The Lost Girl (20 page)

“Yes,” I finally let out on a regretful sigh.

The blunt force of such a small word halted him in shock.

“No.” He turned to stare at me with crazed, despairing eyes. “How does leaving you make any sense? I’m not going to. I don’t care about anyone else but you. I’m not leaving.”

“Tris … please try to understand. We have to.”

“No. Why? Why do we have to? You’re not making any sense. Just because this stupid Jessic—”

“This isn’t about her,” I said, interrupting him. “It’s not her fault, or yours … or anyone’s fault, for that matter. There is no one to blame here, Tristan.”

He walked back to me and knelt in front of me again. He was about to protest, beg me to listen, when I cut in. “This is about
us.
I think we need to do this. Please, try to understand that I’m not trying to punish you. I’m not trying to make you suffer. I’m doing this for
us
,” I said, taking his hands in mine.

I blocked the grief that threatened to surface and forced the numbness to fill me completely. “You know why I almost lost it when I saw you and Jessica like that? It wasn’t because I thought you were cheating on me. It was because, for a split second, I thought about what it meant to not have you in my life any more, to lose you again.” I sighed. I remembered when I’d lost him the first time, in the first year he was alive. I remembered what it felt like. It was the most intense and unbearable pain I had ever felt in my life. I remembered how I drifted through life like a ghost myself. In pain, and hollow, living without a heart, like a crippled soul.

“And when I realized, Tristan, how much this single frail thought could destroy me, I ran. I couldn’t face it. It was … too much for me. That’s when I also realized how weak I am.” I shook my head when I saw he was about to protest. He used to say all the time that I was the bravest person he’d ever known.

I was the biggest fraud.

“No, Tris. It’s the truth. Just the mere idea of living without you terrifies me to death. And that is just so wrong.
Can’t you see?” I asked, slipping down from the bed and kneeling in front of Tristan, facing him, on the floor, my hands never leaving his. “I know it terrifies you too. We are so mashed up together, mixed in to one another, that we can’t tell where one ends and the other begins any more. We’ve stopped existing as individuals, that’s why the thought of losing each other is so damned scary. We have crippled ourselves. And we can’t keep doing this. That is why we need to leave each other for now. Do you understand?”

Do you?
I silently asked.
Do you understand, my love?

I put my hands over his heart, begging for him to understand. He shook his head, refusing to let go. His cheeks were wet with salty tears and he pulled me close and hugged me tight, his face buried in my neck.

“Don’t leave me, Joey,” he begged, his voice a frail whisper.

“Please, my love, don’t cry,” I whispered in his ear, cradling him in my arms. He pulled me closer to him so my legs were wrapped around his side, and we rocked silently in sorrow.

“I-I … can’t do it. I can’t do this without you, Joey.”

“That’s why you need to do it, Tris. We owe it to ourselves to be true and honest. Don’t you think we need to find out who we really are, to stand on our own two feet, without each other to lean on all the time? Or would you rather stumble forward with crippled feet for the rest of your life? We need to find a way to be truly complete while alone. Only then would we be worthy of each other. There wouldn’t be any more fights about guilt or jealousy. We could be together and strong,” I said, stroking his dark locks. “Because, right now, we are together, but we are
weak. We are together
because
we’re weak. So we might as well not be together at all.”

“I knew it … I knew in my gut something bad was going to happen today,” he sobbed.

I hugged him for some time while he cried. I forced myself to remain numb. I had to be strong for the both of us. I couldn’t allow myself to cry, to
feel
. After a while Tristan’s sobbing subsided but he still had his face buried in the crook of my neck. I continued stroking my fingers through his hair, trying to sooth his grief, to give him strength for these next steps in our lives.

“Let us be brave, now, Tristan,” I said, leaning slowly away from him when I noticed he was calmer.

“I can’t … I’m not ready,” he said, with so much sadness in his voice. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t leave you, Joey.”

I gazed at him with a soft smile and wiped the tears from his face. “Do you think I’m wrong?” I asked him softly. “Do you not agree with me?”

He blinked, pushing back the tears that kept coming, unable to answer my question. He knew I was right. He knew he had to agree with me. I nodded in silent agreement, and started to pull away, but he grabbed my hands and pulled me back into his arms.

“Please. Don’t,” he whispered, hugging me tightly. “Just … don’t leave. At least, not tonight. Stay with me tonight?”

“I’ll stay here tonight … if you prefer,” I said, caressing his face while he looked at me with his piercing gray eyes. I was too tired; I had no strength left to fight him any more.

A final single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, despite him willing himself to remain strong. I leaned closer until our foreheads were resting against each other’s.

“I love you.” I cupped my hands around his face. “I will love you always. No matter what. You know that, don’t you? That could never change.”

He nodded in silence and stared down, unable to meet my eyes.

“Tris, don’t be sad … I-I’m doing this for us,” I said, my voice faltering a little. Seeing him like this was breaking my heart, making me falter and doubt my decision.

He still didn’t say a word, but he looked up, our foreheads still touching. He looked at me deeply for a long time in silence before kissing me softly on the lips. It was a delicate kiss at first, filled with so much emotion and so many unspoken things, but then he deepened it, and I was lost in the warmth of his lips. His body smashed against mine; his scent in his every pore intoxicated all my senses, and the hot flavor of his taste was in my mouth. He was like a drug and once again I was lost in my addiction to him. I was too tired to fight it.

I shouldn’t have let him lift me up onto the bed, his hands tangled all over my body, our lips never leaving one another’s. I shouldn’t have let him undress me, with such urgency, need and longing, despair flowing from each of his fingertips, from every stroke of his hands over my skin, burning me with desire and pain and so much sorrow. I shouldn’t have let him have me just out of fear of losing me.

I thought of so many things I shouldn’t have. But I was too lost, and too tired.

And for tonight, I needed him as fiercely as he needed me. Tomorrow, I would have to start learning how to live without him, but for now all that mattered was that I was in his arms, and the pain of separation was dulled by the
hunger of his kisses, and my lips were numb and swollen with my craving for him. I needed him like an addict, and tonight I would have my fix.

The whole time we were burning and melting into each other on that bed, gasping and moaning in pleasure and despair, I knew I should have been stronger. I should have stopped this from happening for it would only cause us more pain in the morning and fill us with more regret.

But I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop myself, not while we both rolled in waves of pure ecstasy exploding deep inside our cores, in anguished release. In the end, I could only sigh a quiet plea for forgiveness, for not being as strong as I should have been.

For giving in when I should have walked out.

But I was just too weak, and so, so tired.

I remembered not getting any sleep that night. At some point I watched as the sunlight broke through the window, casting its warm glow over the hardboard floor, stretching its rays over the bed, lingering over the sheets and then stroking Tristan’s smooth skin with a soft, gentle touch.

I watched Tristan’s chest rising and falling slowly, his face free of any sorrow and his whole body safely cocooned in the relief of sleep. His nose was slightly buried in the pillow and he faced the other side of the room; a few locks of hair covered part of his eyes. I wanted so badly to brush those locks out of the way so I could see him fully, so peaceful and perfect in the morning sunlight, but I was scared of touching him. He would certainly wake up if I touched him.

I snuck out of bed, dressed as silently as I could and walked out of the room holding my breath so I wouldn’t wake him. If Tristan were up, if he looked at me with his blazing silver eyes, I knew I wouldn’t have the strength to walk away from him. His eyes would always be my doom.

I only dared to let out the breath I’d been holding when I reached the front door. I stepped outside, locked the door and was about to turn towards the garage when I bumped into Jamie. He looked at me with his usual blank stare before greeting me with a quiet good morning.

I always had a hard time reading Jamie; he was very good at hiding his emotions. I think the fact that he was behind a camera most of the time made him build up an unintentional protective mental barrier. Looking in his eyes was like looking at blank lenses. Now that I didn’t have my sight, it was near impossible to read him.

“Seth told me to come early today. We have plans … Is everything all right, Joe?” Jamie asked, frowning.

“Huh? No, yes, everything is fine.”

“I mean, because you’re never up this early. And you sound a little off …” He seemed anxious, like he wanted to ask something more but didn’t know how to do it.

I fumbled with the car keys in my hand, trying to avoid eye contact. Jamie was a good observer; I didn’t want him to see how troubled I was. “No, everything is okay, Jamie. Some friends are waiting for me, so … I have to go.” I quickly excused myself and ran off to the garage before he could ask any more questions.

I sped out of the driveway in Josh’s car and drove straight to Celeste’s house. I arrived relatively fast since it was so early in the morning and there was no traffic yet.

The first strange thing I noticed when I arrived was that the front door had been left open. The Harker sisters weren’t careless like that; something was definitely afoot in there. I walked inside the house with cautious steps. Then I knew for sure something was very wrong. Jars and vases lay broken and shattered everywhere: art canvases slashed
in tattered frames, benches tossed and turned on the floor, claw marks on the walls. It looked like there had been a war in here.

I could feel my eyes widening and I kept silently praying that nobody had been hurt. I couldn’t see any blood stains anywhere … that was a relief … of sorts.

“Vigil? Celeste?” I called out in a small voice. “Anyone?”

“Joey?” Arice’s worried face peeped around the kitchen door. “Oh, thank God you’re okay!” She ran in my direction, curly auburn hair bouncing all over her scared face. Luna, Celeste and Vigil walked out of the kitchen shortly after, all of them looking disheveled and ragged as well. Celeste was supported by Vigil, who was holding a bloody cloth to her forearm. Vigil looked like he was about to be sick, but was holding up the best he could.

“Oh, God, what happened here?” I gasped, seeing their faces.

“What the hell happened to you?” Celeste cut in, only just restraining herself from shouting. I could see the anger radiating from her in heated waves. “We’ve been calling your cell phone for hours! We left messages; we were worried sick,” she snapped, waving her bandaged arm and wincing in pain. “You said you’d be back soon, and you were gone all night. You never called or answered your damned phone!”

“I-I’m s-sorry!” I stuttered. “My cell phone isn’t working and I stayed home tonight because … some stuff came up … and then I got up really early and didn’t remember to check for messages. Is everyone all right?” I asked, walking up to her. “Is Vigil okay?” My voice was coming out a little strangled.

“Yeah, yeah, we are all all right,
now
,” Celeste grumbled,
while rubbing her temple with her slender white fingers. It looked like she had a hell of a headache.

“What happened?” I asked again. “It’s like the place has been blown up,” I said as we made our way into the living room.

“Raided.” Celeste sat down on the couch with a weary grunt. “The place has been raided. Your little friend ‘Nick’ turned the place upside down looking for his magical things last night.”

“Did he take the glass ball?” I whispered, sitting down next to her, dreading the answer. If we didn’t have the ball any more, all would be lost. The possibility was too terrible to fathom.

“No, the glass ball is safe,” Celeste reassured me, taking the bloody cloth from her arm.

“Oh, my God! Did … did he bite you?” I asked, worried.

“No, I slipped and cut myself. Too much broken glass on the floor.”

Vigil sat down the other side of Celeste, dressed in black sweatpants and a crumpled white T-shirt. His glossy black hair was as messy as the girls’.

Only then did I notice how pale he was – even more pale than usual. His skin was so transparent I could almost see the outline of green veins beneath it. He looked kind of ill.

“Are you okay, Vigil? You don’t look so good …”

“I feel like my head is liquifying, my insides are agonizingly sick, and breathing either makes me want to throw up or makes me feel like hot needles are being stuck deep inside my brain. Other than that, I am fine,” he said, sounding tired.

“He’s
fine
. Just a little hangover, that’s all,” Celeste interjected, a little miffed.

“That’s what too much wine can do for you, pal,” Luna jeered.

“This hangover thing is awful! If I survive this, I will never drink wine again,” he vowed, grimacing.

“Yeah, heard that one before …” Arice said, trying hard not to chuckle.

“How did Nick get in the house in the first place? I thought you guys have protective spells and wards …” I asked.

Celeste looked flustered, and was staring hard at the floor. “Erm … yeah, well, you see, every night I cast new spells on every entrance, but yesterday I kinda … forgot … a few spots,” she mumbled.