Indulgence (223 page)

It really was a good day and I felt like I had made a lot of
progress. Sporadic memories popped into my head, even some of the phone calls
that Jenna and I shared over the past few years. Quite a few memories came to
mind of my recent travels with Vincent; he had apparently turned me into quite
the world traveler. Together we had visited Paris, Rome, Egypt and New Zealand.
It appeared I had assumed a bit of a fairy tale lifestyle over the past year.

It was all starting to come together, and much more quickly
than I had ever thought possible. I loved what I was learning about this life I
could not remember. I was still sad when I thought about Matt’s passing, but
the more I talked about it and the more my memory came back, I felt that time
had healed my wounds and that I had moved on. I would always keep Matt in my
heart; he was my one true love, but I had to move on with my life and I
couldn’t think of anyone more perfect to do that with than Vincent.

We arrived back at the cottage as the sun was setting and
were greeted with a dinner table set for two complete with candles and chilled
champagne.

“How did you manage this?” I asked.

“The island’s personal chef. I called him before we ran out
this morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

I wasn’t hungry at all, though I couldn’t remember the last
time I had eaten. I thought that I should probably eat something so Vincent
didn’t worry about me.

“It smells delicious,” I said as Vincent pulled out my
chair. He grabbed the champagne and poured me a glass but returned the bottle
to the chiller before pouring his glass.

“Aren’t you having anything to drink?”

“I am,” he responded. He opened the wine refrigerator. “But
not champagne.”

Vincent pulled out a dark green corked bottle with a label I
vaguely recognized. It was a black label with a crimson red diamond created out
of curved flowing lines and some sort of crest in the center.

“Red wine?” I asked.

Vincent smirked and let out a little chuckle. I wasn’t sure
what was so funny about my question.

“Yes,” he responded.

“Can I have some?” I would much rather drink wine than
champagne.

“Allison, please. That’s a $750 bottle of champagne I just
opened for you. You can’t let that go to waste.”

I didn’t think I was much of a champagne drinker and I
certainly had no idea I had acquired a taste for such expensive champagne. But
Vincent’s comment made me feel silly and ungrateful and apparently this came
through in my expression.

“Besides, you don’t like this
wine
,” Vincent stated,
apparently trying to make me feel better. “It requires a…well, let’s just say
an acquired taste.”

We dined on filet mignon and perch which was fresh from the
lake. I didn’t have much of an appetite and picked at my food. It appeared
Vincent didn’t have much of an appetite either as he barely ate anything off of
his dish. He was quite thirsty, though, finishing off four glasses of wine.
Somehow, the alcohol didn’t have any effect on him, but then again, the
champagne wasn’t really affecting me either. After dinner we enjoyed a dip in
the hot tub with more wine and champagne. Our conversation continued to flow
freely, mostly Vincent telling me about our escapades and me chiming in when a
memory popped in my mind. We concluded the conversation with things we still
wanted to do with our lives.

“I want to travel more,” I said.

“And where would you like to visit, Allison?”

“Seeing as I don’t remember Paris, Rome, Egypt or New
Zealand, I would like to revisit those places. But I would also like to go to
Australia. And Russia. Oh, and a trip to the Arctic Circle might be fun!”

“All of these things are possible,” Vincent said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well what about you? What do you want to do in life?”

“What do I want to do in
life
?” Vincent’s voice faded
on the last word he spoke as if contemplating the meaning of it. “All I want is
to spend every waking day and sleepless night with you, no matter where it is.”

I stared at Vincent, taking in his comment. How did I
deserve this man, this life? He was so perfect – handsome, mannered, a hard
worker and he apparently wanted to spoil me. I couldn’t understand how someone
like him would want to be with someone like me. Not that I didn’t think I was
deserving; after all I had been through I definitely deserved happiness! But it
was like we were cut from different cloths. He was a world traveler; before
meeting him, I had never ventured beyond the Caribbean. He was a very rich
business owner; I had means but only due to my tragic past. We had so many
similarities yet we were still so different. I had no idea how our social
circles ever crossed.

“Come on, let’s get to bed. We have to leave early in the
morning.”

*****

I was actually tired and the comfort of the bed was
welcoming. Vincent tucked me in and gave me a gentle kiss, ever the gentleman,
returning to the living room to log on to his computer to get some work done. I
lay there for only a few minutes, once again making shapes out of the wood
grain, before I fell asleep.

The dream is back, but it isn’t the beautiful garden I had
previously dreamt about. No, this forest is different. It is dark and cold and
not welcoming at all. The air smells putrid; it is rank and vile and
sour…everything I would imagine death to smell like if death had a scent. The
trees are barren, the brown leaves matted against the ground. Only twisted,
contorted branches fill the space above me, stretching out into the black,
starless sky. There is no color here; the landscape is drab in various shades
of black, brown and gray. There’s no sign of life.

I look around, not knowing where I am or where I am supposed
to go. And then, a pain in my stomach knocks me to my knees. It is a burning
sensation like nothing I have ever felt before, as if someone has set fire to
my stomach and a burning fireball is rotating within me. I let out a howl, hoping
the pain will subside, but it only gets worse. The fiery pit throws out sharp
pangs as if trying to claw its way out of me. I throw both clenched fists into
my stomach in an attempt to detract from the pain to no avail. The fiery rays
climb their way up my throat, leaving behind a scorching trail of pain before
it settles in the back of my throat. The heat dries my mouth and gives me a
thirst like nothing I have ever experienced. The pain is unbearable. I open my
mouth to yell but nothing comes out.

I reach a hand up to my face and instinctively feel my skin.
It’s rough and wrinkled and my cheeks are sunken. I pull my hand back and my
fingers curl, yellow raggedy fingernails springing from the tips. I dig my
elbows into the ground and pull my body over the rough surface towards a
puddle. I hoist myself up as I near the edge so I can use the water as a
mirror. I stare at the person looking at me in the puddle.
That’s not me
,
I think.

It is an old lady, but not just old, something is wrong with
her. Her skin isn’t that of an old person, it is more like that of a mummified
body, hardened and aged in color. Her hair is short, like mine, but a gray mess
which is falling out in patches. Her eyes are devoid of all color, black pits
with tiny yellow specks that revolve in a circular motion. I pull a hand closer
to the water and dip a finger. The reflection does the same. I jerk back and
grunt before easing myself back over the pool of liquid. I cock my head; the
reflection does the same. I reach a hand to my face and pull at my cracked
lips. I stick a finger in my mouth and cut it on something sharp. I grunt again
and pull myself to my knees so I can push my face closer to the makeshift
mirror. I slowly curl my lips back and two sharp dagger-like eyeteeth emerge. The
fireball in my pit throws another burst of flames up my throat. I throw my head
back in pain and wither on the ground.

I hear something which sounds like a voice. It is faint at
first and seems to quell the burning flames inside of me. The voice is soft and
smooth and floats through the air filling my ears. It is calling my name.

“Allison…………..Allison.”

The sound is enchanting and intriguing but I don’t know
where it’s coming from. It calls my name again so I stand and walk in a circle
looking for the source. I settle on a direction and start walking, the voice
leading my way. I walk several paces before the voice stops me at the trunk of
an enormous oak tree.

“Ah, Allison,” the voice calls out from behind me.

I slowly turn to see the source of my guiding voice but all
I can see is a black figure with glowing eyes hidden in the shadows of this
sterile forest.

“You are not well, are you?” it asks me. I shake my head.

“Do you know what will make you feel better?”

I shake my head again, my eyes fixated on the two shimmering
blue specks cloaked in darkness.

“I know what will make you feel better. Do you want to see?”

Another burst of fire bellows up my throat, singeing my
mouth. I quickly nod my head in affirmation; anything to suppress this burning
in my pit.

“Follow me,” the voice says from the darkness, outstretching
a pale hand for me.

I walk forward and grab the hand and feel instant relief,
like the flames have been extinguished. The stranger pulls me forward, pressing
his body into mine, his face now visible. The man oddly resembles Vincent yet
looks nothing like him. He has the same strong jaw line and the same dark hair,
but his complexion is lifeless and his eyes black, like the ones I saw in the
puddle, gold specks recklessly spinning at a frantic pace.

“Do you trust me?” the man asks.

I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust this man and nod my
head. The scene changes in a flash. We are still in the forest, darkness all
around, but beyond the forest’s edge, there is sunlight, music and laughter.
It’s a party. Where we sit, the forest is still barren, but on the outskirts
the trees are filled with green leaves and swags of red material interlaced
through the branches.

I’m sitting on a couch beneath the barren trees, the
partygoers out of sight but still within hearing distance. The Vincent
lookalike sits on the other end of the white L-shaped couch, a woman swooning
in his embrace. She has her head buried in his neck but he does not appear
interested. I am not alone either. A man sits behind me, his arms wrapped
around me as he nuzzles my neck. But my eyes never leave the man that brought
me here. I see my morbid, mummified reflection in his eyes.

“You know what to do,” he whispers to me, our guests
oblivious to his words.

I don’t quite understand what he means. What am I supposed
to do? A flame flickers in my stomach and I turn to look at my suitor. My
reflection in this stranger’s eyes paints a different picture. I am beautiful
with porcelain skin and vibrant blue eyes. Gone is the dead, decaying flesh and
gray hair. There is a glimmer in this man’s eye; he is happy to see my sudden
interest. And I am interested too. I want him but in a way I never felt before,
in a way I do not quite understand. I am not physically attracted to this man;
rather, I am hungry for him. The thought of him calms the beast that roars in
my core. I look back at Vincent who nods at me in encouragement.

“Do it,” he hisses.

As he says these words, he curls back his lips revealing a
set of sharp dagger-like teeth that emerge from his gums. I watch calmly, like
I know what he is going to do, like I should expect it. He sinks his teeth into
the woman’s neck and she seems to notice nothing as she falls backwards,
panting in the heat of the moment. The fool has no idea she is dying. I turn
and look at my would-be victim as he inches his face closer to mine. The
boiling cauldron in my stomach bubbles over in anticipation. I feel my fangs
emerge and my mouth fills with venom. My prey leans in for something he doesn’t
know is coming. My teeth penetrate his flesh and his warm blood trickles down
my throat, cooling the burning sensation. The satisfaction is overwhelming; the
more I drink, the more I want. I press my mouth harder against his neck trying
to capture every last drop to satisfy the evil within me. The man does not
realize what is happening to him. I feast until there is nothing left, finally
feeling fully satisfied, the fire in my pit extinguished. I toss the body aside
like an unwanted newspaper. I look over at Vincent, who looks different. His
cheeks are full and his color is back. The reflection in his eyes reveals color
flooding back to my skin in place of the petrified flesh that was there before.
My nails retreat and I feel blood rush to my face. I am strong and satiated. I
am what I should be.

I woke screaming, Vincent already by my side.

“Allison, what’s wrong? What is it?”

I sat up panting, trying to catch my breath. I was sweating
bullets but that wasn’t too odd these days.

“Nightmare,” I gasped.

“It’s okay,” Vincent stated, wrapping his arm around me as
he sat on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it was just a meaningless nightmare.”

I couldn’t tell Vincent about this dream. It felt so real,
like we were both actually there witnessing and performing those heinous acts.
I didn’t know what was more disturbing, the fact that Vincent, in my dream,
seemed to know what we both were or my feeling at the end of the dream. What I
did felt right. It felt like second nature. I didn’t feel remorseful about what
I had done; I felt good and full of life as my body returned to its normal
appearance. This just wasn’t right.

“Well maybe some breakfast will make you feel better.”

“No,” I sternly responded, “I just want to go home.”

Pure relief. That’s what I felt when I was finally back on
the mainland. After waking from my nightmare, I took a long, hot shower,
quickly dressed and packed my bags even more quickly. I wanted to get off of
Rattlesnake Island, and fast. But Vincent apparently had other plans. He
insisted he needed to finish work but the only thing he accomplished was
annoying me to no end. He kept probing for information about my nightmare even
though I told him sternly more than once I had no desire to talk about it. I
had to take myself outside for him to get the picture that I was mute on the
subject. Vincent seemingly dragged his feet all day until we departed in the
late afternoon.