Violet

23. Of Course It's the End.

And amidst all of this, there was something good. By ridding me of themselves, the vampires also spared me from the tangled explanations to my mom, which I wouldn't have been able to come up with anyway. By replacing her memories with something else, though still close to the truth, they saved me from having to relive everything through words, from recounting events that were, for the most part, not good at all. At the very least, it wasn't «right». I mean, swimming naked in river at night, kidnapping, kissing without asking... But as far as my time at the Resort went, my mom still remembered it, as did my stepdad, and that was enough for me to continue living without any commentary on my regular routine, which only a week ago had been on the verge of disappearing—just like I had. Still, the urge to sob bitterly into my mom's shoulder lingered, though I held myself back. Sometimes I allowed it, but only at night, wiping my tears on the pillow, feeling guilty for keeping secrets from my parents. Because if I told them, I'd confuse not just them, but myself even more with these near-delirious breakdowns.

The days simply went by—it had been ten now—and I was starting to think that everything that had happened to me was only half real. I remembered Toby and his friends, but somehow I'd let go of the eerie belief in the existence of vampires. In my head, they all existed. But the vampires? They didn't. Does that make sense? To me, it did.

It's strange how quickly you can start to forget something, to doubt it, when you stop witnessing it—if only once a day. Or just a minute a week, at least. Believing in something blindly turned out to be impossible and difficult. That's why, first, my fear disappeared. And then, all my memories of it. Just like the ones who'd caused that fear in me: the vampires.

"Hello," I answered reluctantly, pausing a YouTube video.

I'd been watching a tutorial on how to make a candle in a glass jar while munching on chocolate wafers. I was just lying on my bed, thinking about nothing. I didn't actually plan to make the candle. I didn't even check the screen when I answered the call.

"Want to go to the water park together?" It was Ava, her high-pitched, slightly squeaky voice immediately recognizable. Out of all the girls I knew, she was almost the only one who called me, especially in the summer. "I have an extra ticket. My brother got sick, and I've got no one else to go with. My dad and I can pick you up. Come on?"

I didn't see Ava often. Mostly, we just called each other like this or texted. She was a year older than me, so we didn't overlap much during the school year. We'd met two years ago in an extra English class. We were in the same group, and I always copied her work. While she didn't bring the heavy textbook, I carried it for both of us to class. That's how we helped each other. Ava usually carried a small handbag, and I always had a roomy backpack. It was a fair trade, considering Ava was much better at languages than I was and aced all the assignments. She had motivation too—her family was going to move to England someday... but I wasn't. I'd keep lugging around heavy books. And that wasn't so bad if it meant I'd eventually succeed in my studies—and maybe make more friends along the way.

Holding the phone to my ear, I glanced at myself: a messy T-shirt covered in wafer crumbs and slightly bruised knees from falling on the escalator at the mall. I decided to decline Ava's offer almost immediately.

"No, I can't," I said, closing my laptop and trying to come up with an excuse. "I lost my swimsuit. I went to the Resort with my mom and left it there." I fell silent, recalling the real reason for my swimsuit's "loss."

"So what? I've got a spare, even a new one. And if you don't like it, you can rent one at the water park, any color you want. Come on, Violet. I really don't want to waste the tickets, and I'm not going alone," Ava reasoned, trying to convince me.

And I... I wasn't really against it anymore. It seemed. After all, mentioning that seemingly insignificant detail, which I'd intended as a cover for my refusal, brought up some clear feelings that pushed away all other interests and doubts from my mind. These long-buried memories suddenly stirred, sending shivers down my spine and comforting me far more than the chocolate wafers. Compared to that very first night, when Toby appeared to visit and touch me, the wafers now seemed tasteless. Maybe even unappetizing.