Page 13 of Scorned
My lip quivered when my eyes trailed down my naked body, which didn’t look like mine. Born a thicker girl, I’d never been ashamed of my figure, but this body mortified me . . . scared the shit out of me. I appeared unhealthy, with pale skin devoid of any pink undertones.
Lifeless. I looked lifeless and in only a short amount of time.
The speed at which something can change a person is truly remarkable. The value of my body, of myself, was now measured by a single word—time. Even though the length of time can vary, its nature remains indefinite. Time is never-ending. Even after death, it continues to exist, not caring if you don’t anymore.
My whole life I chased time, ready for the day when I turned sixteen and began my training to become a vampire hunter.
Amaranthine is what the Vampire Research Center named the infectious microbe that causes humans to have immortality and regeneration. With Venom and VRC working together, the goal was to find a cure for vampirism to rid the world of vampires. And of course to save humans, because we couldn’t have detrimental propaganda fed to us without a solid reason for its importance.
Since my family had managed Venom for generations, I was proud to become the president once my father retired. But even if I wasn’t going to inherit Venom, being born into the secret organization made the feeling of being proud inevitable. It wasn’t an emotional mask I wore only when my father was around. My mind, my body, my entire soul came pre-installed with it.
At eighteen, I proudly got a tattoo of a snake and flowers to symbolize my heritage, but unlike time, pride isn’t indefinite. When you die, you take it to the grave with you. If someone doesn’t strip it away first . . .
My sharp ribs were visible beneath my inked skin, leaving me feeling the opposite of prideful.
Knowing my friend Deren died because of me made shame cling to me the way my wet T-shirt had.
Since I’d killed Venom members who were unaware of the lies they were being told, remorse unpacked its bags, now living in my brain.
And because Luka’s abduction was also my fault, guilt shrouded my heart, sucking on my soul like a leech needing blood.
My pride was gone.
Time had taken it.
The same way Venom took Luka from me.
He was my friend.
My lover.
My soulmate.
My everything.
Somehow, he had become the person I had lived for without me even realizing it, and without him, I had no reason to be breathing.
The tightening in my chest finally became too much to contain and small sobs worked their way out of me. I wrapped my arms around myself, finally letting go of my emotions. Tears fell hard and fast, now allowed to drop freely without fear of judgment or sympathy.
Back in October, freedom to make my own choices had been my only unspoken goal.
But what good is freedom when you’re chained to emotions, lost in your own self pity?
The depression was like mud, seeping into me, stealing my air . . . slithering into my soul. The darkness had taken every bit of me I had left.
The cage of despair I’d built for myself was lonely, but being around people somehow seemed worse.
Eventually, I turned the shower on and stepped into the stream. My tears continued to flow while I shampooed, cleansed, and conditioned. At some point, I curled into a ball inside the porcelain tub, allowing the hot water to beat against my skin until it ran cold—cold as the lake.
This was the one good cry of the day I allowed myself to have. After this, I refused to let any more emotions control me until the next day.
With barely any will to live, I peeled myself off the bottom of the tub and dried off. After throwing on whatever sweat pants and T-shirt I found, neither of which smelled like Luka, I noticed the time. I had approximately three minutes before my self-proclaimed therapist knocked on my door, like she did every single night.
I headed into the living room and paused next to the old rickety end table until I heard footfalls against the wooden porch. Knowing it was Steph, here to ask me if I wanted therapy again, I yanked it open.
“I don’t need . . . oh.” I got quiet, surprised by the person visiting me.
“Can I come in?” April asked, her beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears.
