BITE - a snowbaz fanfiction

16

I'm so thirsty, blood-thirsty.

There's nothing alive in this world. And though time passes so quickly here, but my thirst grows all the same.

Anyone can go anywhere in the world while they're in the Veil, but they're not really there.

I can see all the animals I want, but I can't drink.

It's so, so excruciating.

It's only been a few hours, I think, since I found Lucy, but she was summoned somewhere else. Something dangerously important.

She said she'd be back, soon.

She told me to make myself at home after she took me to her cottage.

But I'm just huddled, cold, in the corner of her room, and half of the things she owns I can't touch because I'm not really dead.

The Veil is not made for vampires.

Nothing is made for vampires, not even reluctant vampires.

My thirst is growing every second, and I'm not sure how fast a second is in this Veil, but it's fast.

I just want Simon.

And I'm scared. For him.

I've vanished while Simon has struggled to even survive the day, and I don't know if he can manage alone.

I don't know if I can manage alone.

I'm scared that I'll turn around and see Simon, dead because of me, and I'll still be half-alive. I'll starve, but I'll be trapped in the Veil, never dead nor alive, but never sent back because I can't say goodbye to Simon that way.

I need to get out of this place.

What did Lucy say to me, again?

"Basilton, there are rules in the Veil, and they have been broken. One of us has offended the higher powers, and she will not be forgiven."

Rules, such as, conforming to the natural ways of this world of dead and not causing any disruptions.

Oh, Mother.

I would forgive you and save all this trouble so long as I could have Lucy back, Lucy to send me back to my home.

To my home, to my Simon.

I get up.

I think this cottage isn't far from where we were—Watford. I need to . . .

I need to get out of this place, regardless whether I'm still behind the Veil.

My mother's grave lies in the Catacombs.

My flowers no longer belong beside her bones.

I reach the White Chapel exhausted.

And oh, it looks so desolate, so different from the live Chapel. Like there's rarely anyone there, nor any life.

It's a deep journey to her grave, but I need to make it.

There's got to be a connection between the living Watford and this dank place.

I have little blood in me, and I can feel myself shutting down, but I have to do this one thing.

Then I'll go.

I reach up to feel the mossy ceiling only a small distance away from me, but it doesn't bother me.

I've made this trek thousands of times, sometimes to find my mother, sometimes to drink, sometimes to lure Simon Snow, my enemy, to find me.

I almost confessed to him that one night.

I was drunk, and he found me, and I let him.

But his eyes when he realized I may actually, truly, be a vampire, I'll never forget that look.

But look, I stole his heart. There's a gleeful little smile that plays on my face when I see how far we've come.

I can feel my cornered breathing slowly becoming larger and freer, and I take another step forward to a familiar opening, where her tomb is.

And there's a little bundle of yellow in the midst of all this grey.

My flowers still bloom.

But I don't want them to bloom, not for my mother, not for the woman that burned me and cursed me.

Because although she adamantly refuses my existence, I still carry on regardless. What else is there supposed to do than just that? If I live in her shadows of doubt that tell me I am not who I am, then I can't live, I can't carry on.

And I need to carry on, for myself, and for my love.

But I won't for her.

I pick up the marigolds that are bundled by her grave, and I toss them aside.

And then I walk out, like nothing ever happened.

Because in the real world, nothing did.

It was only for my head, for my own peace.

And it is peace.