"Hey, Kiana," Mike greeted me as I dragged my feet into work. I shot him the briefest of smiles, and kept going to the back to put my stuff away and get ready for work. When I hit the floor to start serving, I mustered what little strength I had to smile and be polite, taking my time to serve my tables so I wouldn't expend too much energy by walking fast and being too energetic like I normally was.
I was getting worse by the day and it was a struggle to do even basic things now, though I tried my best to sleep and eat properly, no amount of rest was enough, it was harder and harder to force the food down and I didn't feel hungry much anyway. Luckily, with Katie also being busy with work it was easy to hide it, pretend I'd grabbed dinner on my way to her apartment so I could go straight to bed, that the long hours at work were the reason I was so tired all the time.
The days were blurring together, not being able to shower, or muster the energy to clean or cook, but luckily as I barely ate there wasn't much mess to clean, so that was a win. I wanted to get up, knew showering and eating and going about regular life was what would help me, but I physically couldn't do it and there was nothing to push me into taking better care of myself.
All that, as awful as it was, I could deal with, was used to it; the aches and pains of my body, the feverish temperatures, the exhaustion...it wasn't new to me. I could grit my teeth and wear a long sleeved shirt to cover my tattoo, hide the red that was leeching across my shoulder and chest now, despite how hot and sick and weak I felt. I could even force myself to show up for work and try my best not to fall apart.
It was the visions I couldn't handle. They were just small things at first, black spots dancing across my field of vision, sometimes morphing into shadows and shapes of figures I couldn't quite make out. Whispers of words I couldn't understand when no one else was around. That bloodied stake was just the beginning.
I'd catch clients with red eyes staring at me, only for me to blink and their eyes would return to normal human colors. Bloody handprints on the walls that weren't actually there. All of it so hard to ignore, so hard to act like nothing was wrong, even though there was bloody smears across the floor under my feet like someone had been dragged, beaten and killed, while I listed the coffee specials we had to unsuspecting clients.
"Are you alright? You seem tired," Mike said, though it took a few blinks to get the spots to disappear long enough to make him out properly.
"It's been a long week," I said, cheeks hurting from how much I'd pretended to smile lately. The bell of the door tinkled cheerfully and I looked up and--
No.
No.
"What's wrong?" Mike asked, when the money in my hand slipped from my trembling fingers to the ground.
Aros.
Aros was here.
But how could he be here? He was dead, wasn't he? Didn't we kill him? Didn't I stand there and watch him die right before my eyes how can he--
"Kiana?" Mike's hand on my arm startled me and Aros was gone, in his place an unfamiliar old man in a suit meeting someone who was already here.
I couldn't breathe. Something so natural and easy and I had forgotten how to do it. I don't know that I even answered Mike, that I said or did anything, all I knew was that I was in the employee bathroom all of a sudden, splashing cold water on my warm face, gasping for air like I was drowning.
It wasn't real. A trick of the light and my tired mind. That's it.
It's just like your nightmares. Aros is dead. You and Ace killed him. You watched him die. There was no way he was back, and even if he was, he wouldn't stroll into a random coffee shop out of the blue like that. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
YOU ARE READING
A Slave to Broken Hearts (A Slave to Love Sequel)
VampireAfter the whole Aros debacle, things were going pretty smooth for Kiana and Blade. They found a way to put the nightmare behind them even though the scars of the ordeal remain to remind them of how close they came to losing each other. Even now as t...