My heart speeds up, wondering what will happen to Polly Anna, and there she is, too. Right from the off.
She’s running, just like she was in the cliffhanger, her breaths choking as she runs, exhausted. She stumbles over a fallen branch and takes a frantic look around her. Jeez, he must be close by. He’s always so fast in the woods.
I stiffen, listening as she pants. My eyes must be as wide as hers as I watch, already consumed by the tension. A crack of a branch behind her, and she’s off again with a whimper, trying to sprint. But she’s tired. Too tired to run. So she hides, pressing her back to a nearby tree trunk in the shadows as the crackle of branches grows closer.
“Oh, Polly… where are you, Polly?” The Count’s laugh is so cold. “You can run, darling, but you’ll never escape. You belong to me now.”
Polly Anna has been in love with the Count since she first arrived at Kington Springs, but she didn’t know his true nature then. No one in the village ever speaks about it.
Polly closes her eyes, and I feel her internal struggle. Fighting the urge of passion. Her heart belongs to the Count, but her head is screaming no.
I get that.
And I also get her curse of frustration.
I understand how hard it would be to run from someone you want so bad, even if it leads to your own demise.
Someone like Heath as well as the character he plays.
“Accept your fate, Polly,” the Count says. “We both know where your road leads.”
His shadow shows on the screen, approaching her so slowly. Stalking her like a wolf after a lamb.
She grabs a branch from the ground and leaps out to confront him in the moonlight.
“Stay away from me! This isn’t fate calling me, it’syou.”
“Iamyour fate. I’m the one who controls your destiny.”
“Yeah?” She steps backwards. “And what is that? You’re going to drink the life out of me and leave me here to rot, are you? Like so many others.” Her eyes brim with tears. “Don’t think I don’t know. The village can keep secrets, but the woodland can’t. I can virtually hear the ghosts all around me. People you killed, you evil bastard.”
The Count tips his head, smirking like Heath does. The moonlight through the trees catches his gorgeous face perfectly.
“Oh, I can hear all of the ghosts around here. Every single one of them. I’ve been slaying people and setting their souls free for centuries. So many poor victims.” He looks so evil, toying with her. “Some struggle and fight. Some wilt like flowers. Some welcome me with open arms.”
I know that. I’ve seen his massacres and chases through every series.
Polly jabs the branch in his direction, like that will ever deter him. “And which do you prefer, you sick fuck?”
He shrugs. “That depends on the victim.”
“What about me? How do you think I’m going to go? I’ll fight to the death, I swear it!”
The Count is such a bastard, he laughs at her.
“That branch is hardly going to be a stake through my heart, Polly. Come! Wilt like a flower in my open arms.”
He opens his arms, and I want to be Polly Anna. I’d love to be that terrified, staring at the monster while he coaxes me in.
Her lip trembles as the tears start up. Her blonde hair is so pretty, her stunning pink dress from the gala torn to shreds.
“At least let me say my goodbyes before you leave me here as an empty corpse. I’ve only been in the village a few months, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean people don’t care aboutme.”
“You don’t need to say any goodbyes. The moment you ran from the hall, everyone knew you were doomed to my will.”
I see the pain in her eyes. Her friendships shattered at the realisation that nobody tried to save her.
“You were doomed from the moment we locked eyes across Church Street, and everybody knew it.” The Count pauses. “Everyone except you.”
