Chapter 31

It was cherry blossom season in Paris.

In the two weeks since Addie had died, I lived in a strange, half-frozen state. My friend group—my family—was broken and healing, each of us barely able to stand on our own. We spent our evenings in the dark, watching TV but never talking—never acknowledging the true weight of what had happened.

Outside, though, the city had come to life. It was full of bright shades of pinks, yellows, and purples, and couples in love; tourist season had begun in earnest. The metros were more crowded, making it seem like it took longer to get from place to place.

I’d hoped I’d be able to enjoy this season in earnest, unlike the last time I’d been in Paris, but it seemed I was doomed to be heartbroken in the spring.

“Can we go outside?”

I jumped at the sound of Addie’s voice. She’d been sitting on the other side of the couch for hours, staring out the window and sipping the mug of blood in her hands—which was more than likely room temperature at this point.

Willa looked up in the same instant I did, closing the lid to her laptop to cut off whatever work she’d been doing.

Holland brought Addie here most afternoons to get her out of their studio apartment, expose her to different sounds and people, and remind her of the life she had before she died. Most days, she sat on the couch and stared out the window or watched a movie on mute; she never said much.

Willa and I exchanged a look, then shrugged. I didn’t see why she couldn’t go outside, though the hustle and bustle of the city might overwhelm for her.

“Do you want to go to a park?” Willa asked.

Addie gulped, backtracking on her question. “Can we just open the balcony for now?”

I stood off the couch, crossed the room, and opened the curtains covering the glass balcony doors. The living room became encased in daylight, which was refreshing. Addie flinched away from it, then took a deep breath and forced herself to watch while I opened the doors wide and propped them open.

“Was it like this for you guys?” Addie asked. It was the first direct question she’d asked in two weeks.

Willa glanced at me nervously before clearing her throat. “No, it wasn’t,” she said.

Addie looked at me, her eyes wide with the hope that I would relate to the hell she was living in. I sucked in a breath. “No, I’m sorry.”

Willa cleared her throat. “I don’t think I know how you died, Sophie.”

I drew in a breath. “Why don’t we sit on the patio, and I’ll tell you a story?”

Addie was hesitant, but joined us on the balcony in the sunlight. She wore sunglasses to hide her eyes from the daylight and, after a few minutes, seemed to relax in the outside warmth.

I sat back in my chair and kicked my feet up on the railing. “Once upon a time,” I started. My friends laughed. “There was a girl who lived on a farm in England a long, long time before either of you were born. Her name was Sophie.”

“Was she a princess?” Willa teased.

I rolled my eyes. “No, but she was in love with the boy down the road. His name was Michael. His father owned a farm too, much bigger than Sophie’s. He had horses, cows, chickens, and goats—everything you could think of. Sophie was so in love with him she didn’t notice the bad things, like the way he treated animals or the way he stared at her chest when she talked to him. One night, Michael invited Sophie to the river for a romantic evening. And Sophie was so excited; she thought he was going to propose.”

“Oh, no,” Addie whispered.

Willa clutched her hands to her chest.

I let out a long breath, trying to block the images from flooding my vision. “Sophie went down to the river, only to discover that the boy she loved was a monster. He destroyed the most delicate parts of her, and took them for himself. He left her there, in the rain, to die by the river after he’d taken everything he wanted.”

“God, Sophie,” Willa said.

I met Addie’s eyes when I spoke again. “Holland arrived just in time. He’s always been there. Always will be there.”

She blinked away a fresh round of tears. “I know.”

I waved my hand to brush away the memories I didn’t care to relive. “And so, Sophie’s history of heartbreak began.”

We were quiet for a while before Addie murmured, “Do you think you’ll ever see Eliza again?”

“No,” I snarled before correcting myself and softening my voice—my anger wasn’t with her. “I don’t want to. Not after what she did to you.”

Addie cleared her throat. “Did you love her?”

I didn’t answer, though I supposed my silence was answer enough.

Holland arrived to pick Addie up a few hours later and was surprised to find us on the balcony cutting candle labels for Willa. Relief filled his eyes and he smiled, resting his hand on Addie’s shoulder.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure,” she murmured.

Holland pulled something out of his back pocket and extended it to me. I recognized the hotel stationery immediately, my eyes widening.

“This was on the door for you,” he said darkly.

I tucked it under my hip, not wanting to read it with everyone’s eyes on me.

Addie and Holland left, though apparently it wasn’t going to be so easy to escape Willa’s watchful gaze. She moved right next to me and motioned for me to pull out the note.

With a deep sigh, I did.

Dear Sophie,

I found a therapist to help me. She works with vampires, so nothing I say could scare her away—at least, it hasn’t yet. I’ve seen her three times this week. The first time, I just word-vomited all over her and told her every terrible, despicable part of my life, even from before I was a vampire. It was like once I started talking, I didn’t know how to stop. By the time the session was over, she stared at me and told me to be ready to dive deep into my life piece by piece the next time we met.

Two days later, we started at the beginning—back home in South Carolina. I told you once I grew up in a tiny town where people lived and died. It was what I was supposed to do. But it stopped feeling like home when my friends and family realized I never showed any interest in any of the boys in town. My grandmother once called me a ‘lesbian whore.’ First of all, I’d like to say that I am attracted to men and women—but how do you explain attraction to people who won’t listen in the first place?

Anyway, I didn’t realize it then, but that was the beginning of the end of my home. After I became a vampire when I was twenty-two, a lot of things changed—obviously. I had to hide a lot from my family. They asked where I went late at night, or on weekends, and they weren’t kind about it. And… I never noticed that they viewed my behavior as shameful or disgusting. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.

That was how the first ten years of my being a vampire went. Trapped in a small town with no way out. At least not one I could see.

And then Megan was born, and everything in my life changed. My grandparents came around more. My parents were happy. My mother started laughing again. We had holidays as a family: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July.

But the questions had started. What was my skincare routine to keep my face looking so fresh all the time? Why couldn’t I seem to lose any weight? Look at this picture, Eliza hasn’t changed a bit.

The more time that passed, the more the questions came.

Eventually, I knew it was time to go.

And even though I hated that town… the stares, the whispers, the questions. I hated some parts of my life with my family, the parts that had cast me aside without me ever realizing what was happening. Despite all of that, leaving was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and most days, it feels like that’s a wound that will never heal.

You told me it would. My therapist tells me it will.

I’m not sure I believe either of you, but trying to find a reason to breathe again is better than… better than becoming the monster that took your friend away.

I don’t know if you will ever read this. I wouldn’t blame you if you tore it to shreds and these words never saw the light of day. Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m writing them for you… maybe I’m writing them for me.

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry.

If you’re reading this, I love you.

Eliza