Only a few minutes later, my stomach grumbles.

I groan and sit up, wondering why I hadn't asked for more dinner earlier. I shouldn't have waited until the middle of the night. Oh, right. Every time I try to have a conversation with Levi, it ends on a sour note.

A distant rush of water calls my attention to an adjacent room. He must be taking a shower. My eyes fall to the now jumbled stack of clothing he brought for me. This is the last thing I have in my name, seeing as I can't go back to my apartment. I'm not eager on sending Levi back, either, knowing next time it might be him who ends up dead.

Most people would feel a form of grief at losing their belongings, but I don't mind. The things themselves don't matter much to me, only the pride in having worked so hard to get them. Starting over wouldn't be horrible, I know I could do it, but I don't want to have to do it. This whole situation has added another layer of bricks on the stack that's been crushing me for a while.

My mind wanders back to before Levi left, to the words that made him walk away. Would I regret it, if I had succeeded in my intentions last night? I haven't really processed the possibility, not with all the other drama that's surfaced.

If I had ended my life there would be one thing I'd regret. A part of me seeks closure. If fate is a real thing, then why did I feel the need to work at Transylvania in the first place?

Why did I of all people run into a clan of vampires, and now, why did I survive it?

It's true I can be masochistic and self-loathing at times, but this isn't my idea of coping with pain, and that wasn't my intention the night I met Anne. The memory is distinct even now, a feeling of lightness, of hope, and despite my constant denial, it made me want to see the sunrise one more day.

It's so small and so stupid. No one goes around saying they want to live based on a mere feeling they got from a job—the same thing that led to them being the target of an inhuman psychopath.

I let out a sad chuckle.

But Levi seems to think I'll be able to move on. He thinks I can live with all I've been through, and still find a reason to breathe at the end of the day. He hadn't said one word of disdain to me, and that alone gives him more credit than anyone else who's tried to help before.

I run the edge of the sheet between my fingers, picking at the seam. There's something else. What about Kristi? She knows about Lucien, I know she does. And though I may have many scars, something tells me she has just as much. More wounds than the one I saw on her neck.

She told me to forget. Is that how everyone else does it? No matter how hard I try, I don't think I'll ever be able to erase Lucien, or her for that matter, from my memory.

The realization strikes me—I can't move away, knowing he's still there.

Knowing Kristi and Mags, and however many others, live under the weight of his shadow. Shackled to his command. Slaves to his selfish and entitled will.

There will be more hunted and captured, more victims to a monster as terrifying as vampires are made out to be. That isn't something anyone should go through, I should know, I was—most likely still am—his prey.

The thought angers me. Stirs up a vengeful and justified part of my being.

But, I'm stuck in a catch-22. I can't do anything to stop what's going on. I'm pathetic, an insignificant human who struggles with paying rent and succumbing to depression.

My heart cracks.

Eventually, Mags will become a target, if for no other reason than Lucien's disdain. She's probably worried about me, wondering why I didn't show up to work today. Fear ices over my insides. What if my actions aggravated him, and he takes it out on her? Not Mags. She's too good for the world to leave it.

But I don't want Kristi to suffer more, either.

I don't want anyone to suffer.

"Everything okay?"

I startle out of thought and look up to see Levi standing in the doorway. A white towel wrapped around his waist, chest bare. My mouth goes dry.

"Yeah." Dammit, why do I sound like that?

He walks over to the dresser and gets out a black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. The thin material does little to cover the evidence of his physical strength. In form, he doesn't look like a blood-crazed monster. No, he looks like a man; hard and refined in all the right places.

"I'll bring you a warm rag to wash off, if you don't have enough energy to stand in the shower." He faces me, holding the rest of his clothes.

A shower... I remember the water as it turned crimson. How it looked against the porcelain. The warmth I felt as my body went cold. I don't want to picture what he saw that night. I don't want to admit that what he saw, was me.

Something as mundane as taking a shower fills me with guilt; and it shouldn't, but it does.

"I think I can manage to stand," I say. I want to make sure my legs still work, after being in a bed for this long. "But, um, is there still more of what you made for dinner?"

"Yeah, there is." His eyes search mine. Pools of vibrant crimson. For the first time since I saw Lucien's irises turn, I'm reminded of why I liked the color. When Levi wears it, crimson isn't overbearing. There's a depth to him that is so unlike the others. "Let me change and I'll bring you some more food."

He walks back into the hall and I hear the soft click of the bathroom door close. While I can, I take the chance to change clothes. The bedroom door was left open, so I gather the sheet around me and prepare to walk over and close it.

Testing one foot, I find the floor cold and hard. Everything feels like it's been coated in a layer of frost. I've grown too accustomed to my blanket cocoon.

The first step feels normal, so I test my other foot. As I shift my weight my muscles strain and I have to grab onto Levi's chair for support. Fuck, I'm so weak.

I look to the end of the room, a few more steps away. Each step feels like ten, but I manage to make it to the door, close it, and get back to the foot of the bed. I sit on the edge of the mattress, feeling how heavy my limbs are after my short trip. Who knew that losing blood could affect so much.

I'm grateful one of the items Levi happened to grab for me was my favorite pair of jeans—worn and soft, ripped in various places just like I was—and absolutely perfect.

After slipping on some clothes, I feel much better. Myself. I can do normal things like a normal person. Maybe I can even go help warm up the food.

As I stare at the door, my bones melt into the mattress. Maybe a trip to the kitchen can wait for tomorrow. I should save my remaining strength for the shower, the last thing I need is Levi picking me off the bathroom floor again—once was more than enough.

A sequence of gentle knocks come from the other side of the door. "May I come in?"

"Yeah," I answer.

Levi enters carrying the same tray, with another full plate of salmon and an equally full glass of water. I scoot back on the end of the bed and criss-cross my legs so I can balance the tray on my lap.

Levi sets down my food and briefly leaves to get another plate for himself. I eye his chair, wondering how many hours he sat there while I was unconscious.

When he returns, I pat the empty space next to me. "There's room here."

He raises a brow.

"Your chair looks uncomfortable. And I'd feel weird facing you straight on," I admit.

He hesitates. While I wait for him to make a decision, I take my first bite. I can't help but sigh a little as I taste the flaky fish and rich seasoning again. "Mmm, I'll give you credit, this is the best meal I've had in... I can't even remember. I'm glad to be alive to taste it."

Once the words are out of my mouth, I catch the dark twist of humor. I glance up to catch his reaction, but to my relief he only smiles, humming in place of a laugh and takes a seat next to me.

His movements are graceful, but come across almost awkward, like he's not used to social interaction. Careful to put plenty of space between us, he shifts onto the bed and I smile at the fact his feet don't touch the floor. ­­

"Good to see your energy is coming back," he says, starting on his food. We eat in silence for a few minutes.

"So how did you end up being a waitress at Transylvania?" His question catches me off guard. I swallow, the gloom and frustration coming back from earlier. "If you don't mind me asking," he adds.

"To be honest, I'm not sure." I push around some flakes of fish on my plate. "I was just walking at night, down because I lost another job, and then there was Transylvania, like it found me instead of the other way around. I was in need of work, and I'm only familiar with waitressing, so I went for it." I shrug.

"Do you like to work as a waitress? Can be a tough career."

I smile, knowing all too well why it can be rough. "Yeah, I've had more than a fair share of bad days, but I like it."

Though it's been a while since I first decided to work as a waitress, I still remember why I chose that path in the first place. "It's a unique job, because you get to know a little bit about everyone you serve. To me it feels like learning something every day, but from someone else's perspective."

"For example," I continue after another bite, "some people will order the same meal over and over again, like a broken record. While others are always asking for suggestions, ready to try something they don't even know they'll like." I down half the glass of water, finally feeling satisfied.

"Sounds like you do enjoy it." Levi pauses, setting his fork down next to half-finished food. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

I imagine his somber expression is equally reflected in my face. "Yeah, well." I stare at my empty plate. "It's not like I would have been that much better off anyway."

If I hadn't found Transylvania, I might very well have ended up in the same situation. But seeing as Levi is connected to Lucien, I'm not sure everything would have worked out the same way. It's ironic, the events that might have caused others to die, kept me alive.

"You are worth it, you know," Levi says after a stretch of silence.

"Hm?" I look over at him, confused.

"Earlier, you said you weren't worth all the effort." He catches my eyes, and I can't look away. The drum of my heartbeat gets louder, resonating in my ears and throughout my body. "And for the record, I think those who understand pain are far more valuable than those who don't."

I nod—unable to match the poetry of his statement. The foremost impression I get from those words, is that to say such a thing he would have to be one of them, too.

One of those who understands pain.

❤️‍🩹 ❤️‍🩹 ❤️‍🩹

Siberia