Burning Souls (F.T Sequel)

Chapter Eight

I step out of the scalding shower and wrap the familiar fluffy white towel around my body. With the travel's long hours washed away from my conscious, I rub at the mirror to get rid of the steam. It has consumed the bathroom completely during the whole hour that I spent in the shower. I even stopped the water after five minutes and merely sat there, staring at the smooth marble walls as thoughts ran through my head. Even then, I didn't feel the cold. I didn't know if I hated that or revelled in the feeling of invincibility. I didn't even know if I missed my humanity or was desperately trying to find a thread to clutch onto. Right now, Alice still hadn't been Turned, and I was secretly happy about that, because in some way, she presented my only link to my old human life.

There are no dark circles underneath my blue eyes, no dry skin or parched lips which would have been expected after the long journey from London. My vampire genes have kept me perfect on the outside, but inside I'm a secret emotional wreck. I exit the connected bathroom and step into the familiar, luxurious bedroom; it's a bedroom that I cannot help but despise now. Memories of Jay tracing patterns down my arm, his minty breath fanning my face, or simply him twirling me around the room has tears pressing against the barriers of my eyes. I hastily tiptoe over to the big wardrobe and retrieve a plain shirt and joggers, slipping them on mechanically. Then, I rummage through my jacket hanging on a hook behind the door and retrieve the dagger. The ornate swirls encasing the hilt glitter in the faint moonlight streaming in from the window beside the double bed.

We have reason to believe that Jay is alive.

Alive...

He might be alive. I have to remind myself of that several times to fully grasp onto the words' meanings. But if he's alive, something must have changed. I haven't told Lily anything, not even Hunter, because I don't want to tarnish their vision of Jay. I saw him as nothing else but my perfect soulmate some days ago, but when Lily revealed the news of his possible existence, pieces of an intricate puzzle mended together in my head. If Jay was the only one who knew about that dagger, and its meaning in our bond, what is to say that he didn't place it in front of my apartment door as a warning? Not a warning for me to run away because of the killings of the innocent women resembling me, but a warning that he will be coming for me. Something to tell me that he was very much involved in those deaths, and that I will be next. I look at the dagger further, and at the dried blood on its end. With more resolution than before I march back into the bathroom and turn on the scalding hot water in the tap. I place the dagger underneath the water and start scrubbing.

After ten minutes of painful scrubbing tears are streaming down my face and my actions are heavier than before. The blood won't disappear. It's as if its surface has been stuck to the blade by something meant to conserve it: something for it to torment me. Because the painful reminder of my actions transmitted through that blood, Jay's blood, sends a torturous pulse pounding the hollow of my stomach every time. Suddenly, the door swings open and Alice walks in. "Hey Em, Hunter's been out and-" She cuts herself off abruptly when she sees me scrubbing the dagger restlessly with watery eyes and a runny nose. "-Emma?"

When I continue my ceaseless torment and ignore her hand on my arm she becomes more demanding, turning off the water and ripping the dagger from my hands. She turns me to face her, "Emma, stop. What's wrong honey?" She brushes a strand of blond hair away from my face and tilts her head, concern swimming in her bright eyes. "What's wrong?" I shake my head and she nods with understanding, opening up her arms for me to step into her warm embrace. I bury my face in her shoulder and let it all out, crying until her shirt is soaked down the arm. But then, when I hear a steady pulse drumming in the crook of her neck I hastily take a step back, wiping my red eyes with the back of my sleeve with a hesitant tug of my lips.