The Knight Of The Rose (40 page)

branching out from where his hand rested against my leg.

I don’t want this end. I don’t want to lose my virginity like this—I just wanted to be loved, to

feel the touch of a person that wanted me like I wanted them.

Please not this, Jason, please—kill me, but don’t do this to me?

He looked back from his distraction and studied my face for a long mom ent, then his e yes

slightly narrowed.

Warm tears ran in streams over the sides of my face, and the burning in my limbs ce ased,

giving way to a dull, knife-like sear through my leg and my arm. They were definitely broken, but

my mind focused only on Jason towering over me.

He shouldn’t be this cl ose to my skin—he has no right to touch me this way. I wi sh I could

move, because then I’d kick him in the groin again, but this time, I’d make sure his balls touched his

throat.

“Now, now, sweet Ara. Be nice.” Jason rose up over my body to wipe the tears from my eyes.

After a second, he cocked his head. “Even as you lay here at my mercy, even so batter ed and so

broken, you are still so perfect. I am sorry I have to take your life; it will be a sad waste.” His hand

covered my face entirely, closing my eyes and stroking past my lip s and chin, stopping against my

throat. “But, revenge, my dear, is often suffered by those who do not deserve it.”

Each breath I took responded to my panic as Jason slowly lowered his head and crept his way

along my flesh, meandering a careful swerve of putridly soft kisses over my navel, then my hips.

When his warm breath puffed against my upper thigh and his hand cl enched my leg, I cri ed

inside, gripping the fingers of my venom-infused hand through my hair.

No, please stop—please don’t, Jason.

The familiarity of the leaves rustling above me and the garden-scented breeze made my heart

ache for normality. Even the stars, once so mysterious, seemed only so familiar to my weary eyes as

I watched them, wishing on each one for something,
anything
to come along and save me from this.

I couldn’t see Jason, co uldn’t tell from the way he touched me what he was about to do, but

his hot breath on my inner thigh made a thousand thoughts rush through my mind—and none of them

were good.

Then, like a cone-shaped needle broke the flesh, he sank his teeth in to my leg. A wash of

fear and agony stole a squeal from my lips; it split the air like a thousand knives through an eternity

of silence and echoed off the emptiness all around me. My thigh bone seemed to tighten with the

ferocious burning, making the scream leave my lips and move deeper into my soul—

resounding from the back of my throat in the highest save-me-God-save-me pitch I’d ever heard.

Finally, all life, all s ound faded, and my cry became only a distant shriek, like a whistle

blowing. But even when I closed my mouth, panting as t he pain shot through my hip, the whistle

continued.

Then, I heard a holler; “She’s over here—over here.”

The whistle blew once more, echoing in my mind as if I were spinning in a plastic bin.

Jason sighed. “Why did you have to go and scream? Now you’ve ruined all my fun.”

The cold night air burned my throat as it scraped into my lungs, dragging vestiges of Jason’s

sweet scent with it—a scent that once reminded me of love, but now, only wreaked of cold fear.

He landed on the grass next to me, his body stretched out alongside mine. “They’re coming

for you.”

I tried to nod. I knew t his much, but I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet, either. Vampires

are fast—he had plenty of time.

Just promise me you won’t hurt any of them, Jason.

His green eyes softened, turning bright as the life-force of my blood fuelled him. “My carp is

not with them. But, I want you to know, Ara,” his voice became low and deep—he leaned over my

body and spoke into my brow, “I’v e enjoyed our ti me together—although it’s been cut short . I will

watch when they come for you. I want to see what your replacement thinks when he finds his tr ue

love broken and s hamed on the ground, like a worthless whore that nobody l oved—that nobody

cared to fight for.”

My body felt no more pain, but the truth of his words ached more than my flesh had. The

venom had burned in my limbs for so long that they were numb to all he could think of to hurt me—

except the truth, which made my heart feel all the rage, sadness and longing of a betrayed nobody.

Jason’s right. David never came for me. Even until Jason dropped me from the tree, I still ,

stupidly, believed he would come—but he didn’t. And now I will die alone. I will die disgraced and

abused, and Mike will find me.

I’m glad—I’m so glad I get to die; I couldn’t bear to live if I had to look, for one second, into

the faces of those I love after disgracing myself, ruining my own life with naïve and wild-heart ed

foolishness. I should never have loved David—but I will love him anyway, for all time.

A sharp, tight grip encapsulated my throat, and Jason’s cheek touched my jaw as he sank his

teeth into my neck. I laid perfectly still. My body twitched nervously—convulsing without t he

knowledge of my brain. But I felt calm inside—unable to process what I was suffering.

“Your blood is running thin.” Jason sat up a l ittle; two lines of red dripped from the corners

of his mouth—just like David wh en he drank from me by the lake . Then, without wi ping it away,

Jason forced his lips on mine.

The blood, like licking salt off a metal spoon, burned my throat as his tongue forced my lips

apart and touched inside my mouth. His tuxedo scratched against my naked chest, and he held my

face in his hands, forcing his lips harder against mine. I couldn’t get away, and I could no longer

breathe. I could no longer even try.

It’s nearly over now. The nigh tmare was fading away with the stars in the sky. Only seconds

left—I could feel it. I’ll miss life—I’ll miss David, but at least the suffering is over.

Jason pulled slowly back from my lips, and studied me. I felt the fear in my eyes flood away

with the serenity of near-death, and I’m sure I smiled. “Tell Davi d...I love...him,” I muttered weakly

into the memory—not a message for Jason to deliver, but a part of the story before the end. David

will hear it when Jason shows him the memor y, and he’ll know that, even in death, it was
his
name

on my lips.

The stars blurred into one t hin silver line, and the ni ght sky surrounded me. For a second, I

saw them; Mum and Harry—not hing more than a flash—just a flicker of a memory—standing there

behind Jason. They were waiting for me. I wanted to run to them, call to them, ask them to help

me—for anyone to help me. But I knew they weren’t really there, an d that even if they were, they

couldn’t help. There is no help. People die every day. People suffer every day. Who’ s there

for them? Who comes to save them?

No one. And no one is coming for me.

I’m dying, Mum,
I whispered inside,
look what he did to me.

“I know.” The memory of her nodded, reaching for me. “Come on, it’s time to go now.”

But I’m not ready. There’s still so much I want to do. I want to see David again, tell him I’m

sorry—tell him I’ll love him forever—and I
will
become a vampire.

“I know,” she said with a symp athetic smile, like everything was okay. But it wasn’t. Not at

all.

Mum, please, help me. This is life. It’s not a joke. Please, this can’t be it. I’m not ready to die.

“Death is only the beginning, Ara. There is so much more for you now.”

No! No. I want to go home!
“Please, take me home?” Cold air brushed out past my lips—

colder than it should be. I thought I felt my hands shaking, but wasn’t sure. The only thing I knew I

felt was the warm, mucky feeling of something sticky under my head and all over the side of my

neck. I struggled to open my eyes—to remember where it was I had fallen asleep—or how I got

there. I fought against t he blackness—screaming inside my head. I couldn’t move anything,

couldn’t even envision myself fighting, because there was nothing left to fight with—nothing in t he

room; no sound, no air, no light. Like I was buried underground.

“Mum!” I screamed. “Mum. Am I dead?”

But she was gone. Everything was gone.

The strange wor ld smothered me, ti ghtening around my ribs and maki ng the air thin and

humid. I felt like I was being pulled down—like I was swimming against a strong current and losing

the fight. I tried to ki ck my legs, to clutch at my throat and tear the belt of restraint away, but my

hands were gone, there was nothing to move, nothing to free me from the sweltering wrap of my own

death. And then, from deep in the darkness, a warm grip pulled me back to the night. A hand.

Something waking me fr om the depths of my own fear. I held ont o it with my mind, focused on it

with all of my strength until I heard a voice; “Ara? Baby, oh baby.” It echoed like an old memory.

“God, what has he done to you—?”

“Mike?” I think I whispered.

“Ara.” His golden voice hit the walls of my subconscious and bounced off the empty space

around me. “You stay with me…with me…with me,” it echoed again. “Ara, pleas e—don’t let go…

let go…let go—” I felt a hand around t he back of my head, and a heavy co ld settled on my limbs,

making me wish I could sleep. Just fall asleep and everything would be okay.

“Mi-ke.”

“Oh, God!” his voice became rough and distraught; “Get help—please, she’s losing too much

blood. Get help!”

Nothing. No stars, no sound. I tried to open my eyes to see against the black, but as I truly

noticed the emptiness for the first time, I felt my heart stop; my eyes were already open.

“Mike?” I called, but my own voice fell flat in front of me, as if I ’d spoken into cupped

hands. I waited; waited past that moment you expect everything to be okay, past the breath you held

when you thought you heard something, and finally felt myself realise what happened.

I’d let go.

Perfect silence. Complete weightlessness, it almost made me breathless—like I needed sound

or orientation to remind me how to breathe. I couldn’t breathe—couldn’t suffocate because there was

only emptiness where my lungs should be.

The only thing I could actual ly feel were tiny dancing butterflies in every inch of me,

fluttering across every part of my body that had turned into air.

I tried to clench my fist, to wri ggle my fingers and toes, but they were gone—all of them,

everything, just gone. I felt tied up , restrained, wrapped in clear film and stored in a tig ht space. I

wanted to break free, but there was nothing to break free from.

I was gone.

Mike was gone.

The world was gone.

Everything was gone...

Floating through space and tim e—for how long, I didn’t k now—I hoped morning would

come. But days or maybe years seemed to pass. I’d waited, losing myself in the weightlessness of

this world, with no way of measuring the unbearable solitude—the existence of nothing.

Maybe this is hell.

It reminded me of the time I went swimming as a little girl; I’d closed my eyes and floated in

the water for a while. With my ear s under the cool water, I could hear only the rushing of the ocean

and the sound of my own thoughts. I thought it was peaceful then, but here in this blackness, all

alone, still floating and unable to find the shore—it was just unimaginably confining.

I always wondered what death would be like. I thought it would be peaceful. But the only

thing in the afterlife was memories, hidden behind shadows in the darkness. And when the darkness

got too much, those memories became nightmare s—unhappy endings I ’d keep going over i n my

mind—over and over again, never able to find the conclusion, because there’d never be a conclusion.

Not for me, anyway.

My last breath would have been taken in the ar ms of my best friend. I wanted to cover my

half naked body—to tell Mike that Jason didn’t ra...well, that he didn’t do what everyone will think

he did. Tears of frustration and anger wanted to release from my eyes, but with no face and no eyes

to cry from, they became trapped in me, lodged l ike a rolled-up sock in my chest—quivering and

growing into a feeling I had never kno wn before. I wanted to rattle the bars of my cage, to scream at

those responsible.

But rage always wore down t o misery, and when mis ery was unreleased, trapped in by

nothingness, it turned to fear, then to rage again. It was an endless cycle. And even that made me

mad, because there was just nothing...nothing I could do to make it stop.

“Let me outta here!” my mind called into the dar kness. I imagined myself circling around,

gripping my hair with both hands, falling to the floor with my head in my knees.

It did no good to picture it though. I still felt just the same.

“Mike!” I imagined myself looki ng up—to wherever up was. “Mike,” I said. “He didn’t rape

me!” I needed him to know that. I needed him to know how sorry I was for leaving the dance—for

trusting Jason—for being so damn stupid.

“Mike? Please, please be there. Please be there.”

But nothing ever answered back.

The rage subsided agai n and I watched my im agination fall to her kn ees. She looked so

fragile and human, so broken and alone.

You were nothing to him
, she thought in her own mind.
You were human, and vampires rarely