By the time we get back to the city I’m just about ready to die of mental exhaustion. This must be a dream. A nightmare.
Ethan turns around slightly in his seat, there are still some flecks of blood on his face.
“Would you like me to bring you to my home?” he asks. “I can take care of you there.”
“I want to go to my apartment. And I don’t need taking care of, not from you. I’m fine.” I answer.
“You don’t look fine, you look frantic.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere other than my own home. Thank you.” I tell him, trying hard to stay strong.
“Very well then,” he replies without emotion.
A couple of minutes later he pulls up outside of my block. As soon as he hits the brakes I’m out of the vehicle and running toward the lobby door. A strong hand grabs me by the arm and pulls me back.
“I do not want for you to fear me Tegan.”
“Too late.” I mumble and try to pull out of his grip.
He lets me go this time and I run for the door, swiping my card over the door entry system. I almost jump out of my own skin when I go to open the door and before I can grab the handle, Ethan’s hand pushes it open for me. I step inside and turn to him.
“I don’t recall inviting you in.”
“We have matters to discuss.”
“Don’t vampires need an invite before they can enter a person’s home?” I ask in a matter of fact voice.
“That is a ridiculous superstition. Besides, even if it were true, I could still enter your apartment as you invited me in before, remember?” he replies.
I feel like screaming. I cannot let him inside. I need to be alone. Just when I think that my life can’t get any darker I find out that monsters are real. I feel sick to my stomach with the knowledge that I had been allowing Ethan to romance me, and I had been falling for it hook, line and sinker. Idiot.
I contemplate retorting with some witty comment. Covering my fear with humour seems to be becoming a habit of mine. Instead I turn on my heels and run up the flight of stairs to my floor. I know that Ethan’s following close behind me. I know that no matter how hard I try I could never in my life run fast enough to escape him. With that in mind, I nevertheless turn my key in my door, twist the handle, step inside and slam the door in the face of a two-hundred and seventy-six year old vampire. Perhaps not the cleverest of moves.
I dash into my bathroom and shut the door tightly. Then I sit down on the cold tiled floor. All of the blood and the killing is in my head now. My stomach heaves. I taste bile in my mouth. I swallow and take a deep breath. I cannot vomit. I can-not vomit. But the more I try to contain the food that is trying to regurgitate itself, the less hope I have in stopping it from coming up.
One. Two. Three. Another second passes and I get sick. One, two, three times, until there’s nothing left.
A cold sweat slicks itself over my entire body. It makes me shiver and I feel like there are tiny spiders crawling over my skin. Then I hear the most gentle of knocks on my front door.
“Tegan, let me in,” says Ethan, his voice is a sea of calm.
“Go away.” I shout, because I really can’t face him.
“I could knock down this door if I wanted. I’m merely refraining out of respect for your home,” he replies, through gritted teeth.
“I’m ill Ethan. Leave me alone.” I’m on the cusp of begging now.
“Then let me take care of you.”
I don’t reply. Perhaps if I stay silent he’ll get bored and leave. For several minutes there is quiet. Then, abruptly, I hear a loud bang on the door.
“Goddammit Tegan, I’m not going to wait much longer.”
I hear my neighbour’s door open and somebody steps out into hallway.
“Could you keep it down?” says the old man who lives by himself in the apartment across from mine.
“You will go back inside and return to sleep,” says a cold and mechanical voice. It takes me a minute to recognise it as Ethan’s.