Before Time Runs Out

Chapter 10

Carmelita had taken the train back home once again, making a few stops on the way to get some gifts for Ethel. Aside from that, she was far too excited to see her again to sleep and was restless like an eager child the entire ride home, to Elise's dismay. Ethel had stopped writing to her, and it vexed her. Carmelita continued to send her letters every day even after Ethel had stopped writing back, and she knew they were getting delivered. She had gotten off at the train station, disappointed to not see Ethel waiting for her there. It had gotten warmer since it was now the end of March, only a day or two until April. Carmelita had given up looking at calendars, being disappointed each time she saw how close it was to her twenty-fifth birthday. The first place she had gone was straight to Ethel's house to see her.

"What do you mean she's not here?" Carmelita's face was full of surprise and concern, knowing this was not normal for Ethel. First, she stops writing back, then she disappears.

"She left at some point, saying she had to go somewhere or do something," Verna had a cigarette balanced in between her fingers as she spoke. "She didn't leave her room for a month or two. Seemed distraught. I expect you will find her somewhere at some point. She took the car too, she's probably up on her favorite hill somewhere, getting into trouble again."

Carmelita had gotten back in her car; Elise having gone to town to get some groceries for the chefs. She pondered over what could have caused Ethel to start acting so strange. She thought back to when she had first stopped replying. Carmelita had sent out a letter that was for Ethel, and she knew she had gotten it. She had also sent out one to Matthias the same day. They had been sitting next to each other on the desk when she had put them in the envelopes that she had already signed off. There was no way she had mixed up the letters. 

She cannot have mixed up the letters.

 She remembered exactly what she had written to Matthias, word for word. If Ethel had read that, she would not understand, she would know she had lied, would know about her secret, and have taken it out of context. Carmelita swore under her breath, pressing her foot to the accelerator quickly and driving off, checking the spot where she and Ethel had first met face to face. She was not there, meaning she had to be at Carmelita's house, the only other place she could think of.

She pulled up and rushed inside, quickly taking her coat off and throwing it to the side. She was here, Carmelita could tell as her instincts went off in the back of her mind, the one thing she was avoiding trying to surface. She pushed her hunger down, rushing up the stairs to the library. Lancelot was curled up in front of the doors to it, them being closed. He always did this when he waited for Ethel, knowing she was in a room or coming to the front door. Carmelita slowly opened the doors after willing up the courage to, and Ethel was standing in the middle of the room, letter in hand. Her face was stained with tears, and Carmelita felt as though a knife had been stabbed into her stomach, seeing her like that. Carmelita took a few steps toward her, and in return, she took a step back.

"You lied to me," It broke Carmelita's heart to hear those words come from Ethel, them so full of sadness, anger, and betrayal. "You left to get away from me." Her voice was breaking as hot tears streamed down her already blotchy cheeks and face, her wiping them away with her sleeve.

"Ethel, I need to talk to you." Carmelita advanced toward her, but she quickly backed away, and Carmelita had never seen her look so terrified. She noticed her now bandaged wrist and forearm, processing why Ethel was so afraid. 

She was not afraid of her. 

She was afraid that Carmelita would hit her.

 Carmelita quickly grabbed her, and she let out a scream,  and Carmelita embraced her tightly, pressing Ethel's head into her shoulder. Carmelita's heartbeat was going faster than it had ever gone, the one thing she was pushing back finally surfacing. She buried her face in the crook of Ethel's neck, able to hear Ethel's pulse and smell the sweet scent of her blood through her skin. She could not push it back any longer, her sharp fangs puncturing deep into the side of Ethel's neck, right into her carotid artery on her left side.