More than Anything

Brielle

    I'm eating dinner in the empty dining hall when I see her. She pushes the doors open, her typical smirk on her face. Her hair has grown out a bit, reaching just past her shoulders. How long has it been since she last cut it? Her skin is paler than I remember it being, but I'm probably just seeing things. She wears her usual amount of makeup: winged eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick. She wears a tight, long-sleeved shirt and leggings with a pair of heeled boots. Her blue eyes are filled with an anger that I always see in her, but it's different. The anger I see isn't anger at me; it's anger at the world.
I almost don't believe what I'm seeing: Everly Johnson, after weeks of missing school. A million thoughts race through my head, and I find myself walking towards her.
"Where have you been?" I say, before I've even had the chance to think about what I'm saying.
She raises an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"
"Let's not do this today, okay?" I say. "Just tell me where you were."
Everly laughs, harshly, sending a chill down my spine. "That's none of your business." There's a certain bite to her tone that makes me want to either slap her or run away.
    "You could've been coming up with ways to kill me," I say, staying put. I won't let her have that power over me. "So, I'm pretty sure it is my business."
    She rolls her eyes. "You're so stupid, Taylor. Even though I hate you more than the Joker hates Batman, I don't have any plans to kill you."
    "That's what someone who has plans to kill me would say..."
    Everly holds her hands up in mock surrender. "You caught me!" she says. "How did you know that I planned on putting a venomous snake in your bed tonight?"
    "This isn't something to joke about," I say, taking a step closer to her. "Where were you?"
    I think I want to know because she could have been planning to kill me, but a small part of me is worried about her, and I want to bury that part. I want to bury it beneath several layers of dirt, never to rise again.
    "As you already know," she drawls, "I wasn't at Watford."
    There's no one else in this world that I hate more than Everly Johnson. All I'm asking is where she was, just for my own safety, but she won't tell me anything. She's always sarcastic and taking every chance to make a jab at me. I don't have time for this. Everything feels rushed, like time suddenly sped up when she entered the room. I need to know where Everly was.
    "Thanks Captain Obvious," I say, rolling my eyes. "Where were you?"
    "I already told you," she says, articulating each word. "It's none of your business."
    "Were you hurt?" I ask, before I can stop myself.
    She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide. I'm surprised by my own words, and wonder how I could let something like that slip. I want to hide in a hole and hide from the world for forever, but that doesn't seem to be an option.
    We stare at each other for a moment, both too shocked to speak. I want this moment to be over. I want to return to my room like none of this happened, but that doesn't seem very likely. Everly will never let me forget about this.
    "I'm fine." She smirks. "I think you're not, though," she says, jerking her head in my direction. "You must be ill if you're asking me if I'm okay."
    I clench my fists at my sides until they're white, wanting nothing more than to punch her in her perfect face.
    Everly rolls her eyes. "Thinking of punching me, are you?"
    It takes everything I have not to punch her. She deserves it, I know she does. But that doesn't mean I should. I'm not that kind of person. But Everly makes me want to be, just for a moment so I can finally punch her and get back at her for all the times she's annoyed me. It's infuriating.
    "You know me so well," I say, taking a step closer and drawing myself up to my full height. She's taller than me, and I hate it. I always have to look up to her, and I know that she just loves it.
    "We have lived together for the past seven years," she says, smirking.
    "I was being sarcastic."
    She shrugs. "I know more about you than you think."
    "You know nothing about me," I snarl, surprised at my own aggressiveness. It's like Everly brings out the worst in me, everything about me that wouldn't be noticeable if she weren't there to coax it out.
    "I know that you're the next Simon Snow," she says, closing the little distance there is between us. "What else is there?"
    Then, she walks away.
                                                              Everly
    I know that I was being harsh, but I need Brielle to get off my back. I'm dealing with enough right now; I don't need to deal with her, too. I didn't know she'd be so set on finding out where I've been. I thought she wouldn't notice, but clearly, she did. Because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
    I'm never going to kill Brielle. I hate her more than anything on this earth, but I don't want to end her life. I don't want her blood on my hands. If I ever try to imagine it, I usually end up with tears welling up in my eyes, or feeling like I have to puke. The thought of holding her in my arms as the life seeps out of her is like a nightmare. Her pale hair would be in its usual braid, strands of it falling in front of her lifeless eyes. The storm inside of her would finally still, and even though I hate her, I wouldn't be able to take seeing her dead. She's alive, and the thought of that being taken away from her makes me feel something that I can't quite describe. But that's how I would react to killing anyone. (Except the vampire I killed to save Brielle. I did not feel sick after that.)
    I wander the halls, thinking of what just happened. Brielle probably hates me even more now.
    Good. I want her to hate me. That's how things are supposed to be; we're supposed to hate each other.
    I find the stairs that lead to the Catacombs, and begin my descent. I almost never go down here, but I know that it's a good place to hide, and I need to be hidden right now. I can't let anyone see me when I feed. I'm still not used to being a vampire; I don't think I ever will be.
    Whenever I feel that terrifying hunger for blood, I feel like I could break down. I usually do. I choke on sobs as I suck the blood out of whatever animal was unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But no one ever sees it. No one ever sees the blood smeared on my face, the fangs that pop out of my gums. No one sees the monster that I am.
Once I make it down the steps, I sit on the ground, my back resting against a wall of skulls. I feel that hunger that will only be satisfied by blood rising again. My fangs pop out, and I sigh, holding back my tears. I don't want to be like this. I don't want to depend on blood to live; it makes me a monster, which is why I can't go back home for the holidays.
I thought about going home, but I couldn't see them like this. I couldn't let them find out what I am, what I've become: a blood-thirsty monster. What would Grace think? She would hate me, and I can't take that. I don't care if my parents hate me; they already don't care about me. But Gracie—I need her.
I have to go home at some point, but I can't bring myself to do it yet. I miss my family more than words can describe. I feel this emptiness in my heart that can only be filled by my sister's love. But I'd rather suffer than accidentally hurt her. I still don't have control over my hunger, and I don't want to hurt anyone. I shouldn't have come back to Watford, but I had no where else to go, no where else to hide.
The need for blood suddenly becomes overwhelming, and I can't put this off anymore. I have to feed, or I think I will go insane. I came here to do this, and there's no avoiding it. If I do it now, it will be over sooner. I just need to get this over with.
A rat skitters by, and lets out a startled squeak when I pick it up, lifting it to my mouth. I can smell its blood from here, coppery and warm. My fangs pop out and sink into the poor rat's flesh. I want to pull away after drinking a small amount of blood, but my hunger forces me to continue. I stop when the rat is dead, and place it gently on the ground.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, holding back tears.
I don't know why I'm trying to hide what I feel; no one's around, so I don't have to pretend to be okay. I allow tears to fall, and stream down my cheeks. I grab another rat and suck all of the blood out of it, unable to stop myself. I choke on a sob, and bury my head in my hands. I'm a monster. I'm not human. I'm not even living (I don't think I am, anyway). I lost everything, and now I'm just a mess.
I drain a few more rats before heading back to my room (after wiping the blood off of my face, of course). Brielle is already there, sitting upright in her bed—was she waiting for me?
She's silent when I walk in; it's almost uncomfortable how quiet she is. She just watches me for a moment, taking me in.
"What do you want?" I ask tiredly. I feel weak, but I hope I don't sound that way.
Brielle sits there for a moment before snapping out of her daze. "Oh, I, uh, I don't know."
"So you just stayed up until I came back for no reason at all?"
"I didn't want you to kill me in my sleep," she says, flustered.
I roll my eyes, even though I'm not in the mood to keep up with our usual arguments. I just want to lie down and sleep. "The Anathema would've stopped me, and as I said before, I have no plans to kill you."
"Where were you, then?" she asks, and my stomach drops.
I want to leave all of this behind me, but Brielle seems to be set on finding out where I've been. She keeps reminding me of what I am: a monster. She doesn't need to know where I was. She doesn't need to know what I've been through during the past few weeks. I wish I could forget it, but the memory will never go away. It will always be there to torment me, along with my hunger for blood.
"When?"
Brielle sighs annoyedly. "You know when."
I force myself to smirk. I think I'd rather have another crying session, but now that Brielle's here, I can't. "I was in the dining hall," I say. "With you."
"Not then," Brielle says angrily. "Where have you been for the past few weeks? And where were you just a few moments ago?"
"You don't need to know that."
"You're hiding something," she says, pointing a finger at me. "What are you hiding?"
I roll my eyes. "The whole point of hiding something is for no one else to know."
"So you are hiding something!"
"I never said that."
"You just did!" she exclaims.
I shake my head. "I never said that I was hiding something. I just said that the point of hiding something is for no one else to know."
She sighs. "Just tell me."
"No." I roll up the ends of my sleeves to hide the blood stains, and climb into my bed. It's comforting to be sleeping in a bed again. I never thought that I would miss it so much, but being chained to a wall for weeks really changes things.
"Everly," she says, her voice suddenly soft. How can her emotions change so quickly? She was angry at me just moments ago, but now, her voice is calm and soothing. I close my eyes, and curl into a ball. I feel as if I'm going to break at any second, like I could just shatter into a thousand pieces.
"Everly," she says again. There's some noise as she pushes back the covers of her bed and shuffles over to mine. I want to open my eyes, to see her standing above my bed like a guardian angel but I don't. I can't let her win. "Everly, look at me."
Maybe if I stay still long enough, she'll think I'm asleep. After a few moments, she's still standing beside my bed. She knows that I'm awake.
"What?" I grumble, opening my eyes. She's wearing her Watford pajamas, and her hair is in its usual braid. Does she ever take it down? I wonder what her hair looks like when it's not in a loose braid. That's something I'll never know, something that I shouldn't want to find out.
Brielle looks unusually vulnerable, her green eyes filled with what I think is worry. She sits on the edge of my bed, and I turn away so she can't see the tears in my eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asks gently. "And no, 'I'm fine' is not a good enough answer."
I shake my head, not bothering to deny that something's wrong.
"You can tell me," she says. "I just want to help."
Her words surprise both of us I think, because she takes a deep breath, sounding almost like a gasp.
"Why should I trust you?" I ask weakly, still facing the other direction. "You hate me."
"Right now, we're putting our rivalry aside."
"Why do you care?" Enemies aren't supposed to worry about each other.
"I just do," she replies, not giving me a real answer. I roll over to face her again. There's something like confusion in her eyes, but at the same time, she seems so sure of herself and what she's doing.
I want to tell her. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, I just do. I could tell her everything, tell her that I'm a vampire, that I'm a monster. For some reason, I think that she won't care. I think that it'll be a relief for someone to know about me.
"I—" I start, unbelieving of what I'm about to say. "It's nothing."
"Ev—"
I cut her off. "Just get off my bed," I say, and my heart breaks. My only chance of telling anyone about what I am is gone.
Brielle gives me a sad look before standing and getting back under her covers. Once I'm sure that she's asleep, I allow myself to cry.