embers of redemption

chapter six

Bridget Winchester

As I sit in my room, the memory of my encounter with Dante plays on a loop in my mind. His enigmatic presence, his piercing gaze—it's all I can think about. I find myself drawn to him in ways I can't explain, despite the nagging feeling of caution that tugs at the edges of my consciousness.

Since that day, everything feels different. The colors seem brighter, the air crackles with an electric energy I've never noticed before. It's as if Dante has cast a spell over me, awakening something dormant inside of me that I didn't even know existed.

I catch myself wandering aimlessly through the streets, my feet carrying me to places I've never been before. It's as if I'm following some invisible thread that leads me closer to him, closer to the mystery that surrounds him.

Amidst the allure of Dante's presence, there's a voice in the back of my mind warning me to tread carefully. There's something about him that feels...dangerous, yet irresistibly alluring. I find myself questioning everything I thought I knew, my beliefs and desires thrown into turmoil by the mere mention of his name.

As I dig deeper, piecing together fragments of information like a jigsaw puzzle, I realize that my encounter with Dante is just the beginning of something much worse.

When I woke up a few mornings later, the first thing I did was check my wound in the bathroom mirror as it became part of my routine. The cut on my shoulder was healing, albeit slowly. I gently peeled back the bandage, wincing as the adhesive tugged at my skin. The edges of the wound were pink and tender, but thankfully, there was no sign of infection. It was clearly visible of its shape – the shape of someone's teeth etched into my skin.

I stared at my reflection, memories of the past few days flooding back. Meeting Dante, his cryptic words, the way he seemed to see right through me. I traced the outline of the wound with my fingertip, feeling a strange connection between the physical pain and the emotional turmoil swirling inside me. The encounter with Dante had left a mark, not just on my shoulder but on my mind as well.

With a deep breath, I rebandaged the cut, trying to push thoughts of Dante to the back of my mind. But as I went about my morning routine, his presence lingered, a shadow I couldn't quite shake. The questions about him, about us, felt like they were multiplying with every passing hour.

After rebandaging the cut, I head into the kitchen to make some coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, providing a small comfort amidst the chaos in my mind. I sit at the table, staring out the window at the world outside. It looks the same, but I feel different, like there's an invisible barrier between me and everyone else.

My mother walks into the kitchen just as I'm about to finish my coffee. Her presence is comforting, grounding me in the familiarity of home. She notices the bandage on my arm and frowns, giving me a skeptical look but doesn't press further. Instead, she starts preparing breakfast, the clatter of pans and the sizzle of eggs filling the room. The normalcy of the scene contrasts sharply with the turmoil inside me.

"Any plans for today?" she asks casually, turning her attention to the stove.

I hesitate, unsure of how much to share. "Just running a few errands," I say, avoiding eye contact. I decide not to mention Dante. It's too complicated to explain, and I'm not even sure what to make of it myself.

"Well, it's a good day to be productive," she says, her tone lightening. "I've been thinking a lot about our community's future. We're going to need to prepare more thoroughly if we want to stay safe."

I nod, grateful for the change of subject. "Yeah, I was thinking the same. Our supply runs have been getting more difficult, and it feels like the forest is getting more dangerous."

She turns to me, her expression serious. "It is. And that's why we need to start training the younger ones. More intensive drills, better strategies. The threats aren't going away."

The idea of more training isn't new, but the urgency in her voice makes me realize how critical it is. "I've noticed some of the newer recruits struggling with the basics. Maybe we should focus on smaller, more focused groups for training sessions."

"Good idea," she says, nodding. "And we need to scout more frequently. Make sure we know what's coming before it gets too close."

"Agreed," I say, feeling a surge of determination. "I'll talk to Father Tony. We can set up a rotation to ensure there's always someone out there keeping watch."

My mother smiles, a hint of pride in her eyes. "You're a natural leader, Bridget."

Her words warm me, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose. "Thanks, Mom. I just want to make sure we're all safe. The world's unpredictable, and we need to be ready for anything."

As she's placing the eggs onto a plate, a sense of secrecy washes over me. I don't normally keep secrets from my own mother, but something like this seems too extreme to share. The words I let a demon take advantage of me doesn't sound too great.

Are those even the right words to say? He didn't take advantage of me, at least not sexually.

God, he was making me go crazy. I don't know if it's the bite mark on my shoulder or his words that make me this way. The memory of his touch lingers, both thrilling and unsettling. I almost want to hang onto every word he says, tempting the limits and hoping to be praised for crossing the line.

There's something about the way he calls me his little temptress that makes the thoughts more alluring. The nickname dances in my mind, igniting a fire that's hard to control. It's like he sees a part of me that I've kept hidden, a part that craves danger and excitement.

Every interaction with Dante leaves me teetering on the edge, wanting more yet fearing the consequences. His enigmatic presence pulls me in, making me question my own boundaries. Am I ready to dive deeper into this mystery, to embrace the role he's cast me in? Or should I pull back, regain control before it's too late?

The questions swirl in my mind, mixing with the thrill of anticipation. Seeing him again feels inevitable. I know one thing for sure: Dante has awakened a part of me that refuses to be silenced.

I feel like Eve in the Garden of Eden being tempted by the devil himself. Did the snake make temptation look this divine?

"What're you thinking about?" my mother questions, bringing me out of my drawn-out daydream.

I blink, trying to refocus. Her concerned eyes are searching for my face, and I realize I've been silent for too long. I thought about how to answer, wondering how much to reveal.

"Just... everything that's been happening lately," I say finally, choosing my words carefully. "There's a lot on my mind." The wound, our community, the future.

She nods, her expression softening. "It's been a lot to handle. We'll get through this."

I force a smile, appreciating her confidence in me. "I know. It's just... sometimes it feels overwhelming. Like there's so much more beneath the surface, things we don't understand."

My mother reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "It's natural to feel that way. But remember, you're not alone."

Her touch is reassuring, grounding me. I take a deep breath, letting her words sink in. "Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that."

She smiles warmly. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just take it one step at a time. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

I nod, feeling a bit lighter. "I will. I promise."

As she turns back to the stove, I feel a renewed sense of determination. Usually when she says something that encouraging, I speak up about my inner troubles, and her response is always therapeutic.

Not this time. I watch her for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt for not sharing everything with her. But this is different. This is something I need to navigate by myself, to understand what Dante's presence in my life means without burdening her with my confusion.

This time, I have to handle it on my own. Clean up the mess I made and move forward. But how can I when the mess is a demon that calls me his temptation?