24. Xander

Icouldn’t let Luke go without saying a proper goodbye. I was so angry with him after he insulted me in my own house, I let my rage blind me. I was better than that, even if Luke didn’t think so, and I initially planned on reaching out through a letter. The more I pondered that option, the less appropriate it felt and I doubted he would read it anyway. If I were Luke, I would have tossed it into the rubbish bin the second I picked it up.

I considered going directly to his house to apologize many times, which seemed like my only good option. Every time I readied myself to leave the house, however, I convinced myself that there was still a glow of sunlight outside and it wouldn’t be safe to leave. Even at midnight, when the moon was but a sliver and the stars were covered by clouds, I couldn’t bring myself to step outside the front door.

The only thought that kept me from hiding away in the darkness forever was Luke, alone in his own house, facing the same dark, deep sorrow I had. He deserved better. He deserved to have our short time together tied up neatly with a little bow, tucked into his memories for a later date.

If it were up to me, I would have attempted to remedy the relationship and bring it back to life. Luke wasn’t ready for that, I knew, and the only other option for both of us was to put a stop to our romantic life together and try to forge ahead as friends, or perhaps even strangers. Whatever made Luke happiest, I would agree to it.

I finally worked up the courage to visit Luke after a long, depressing day locked away in my dungeon. I couldn’t bring myself to drink the blood of any more of the poor rabbits I’d purchased, instead letting them go free in my garden. They hopped away excitedly, free from death at the hands of their captor if only to be devoured by another predator weeks or months in the future. It wasn’t a good ending for them, but the poor creatures never stood a chance given the life they were born into, much like myself. I’d never gone off the taste of animal blood or been concerned about the welfare of the creatures surrounding me before. What had changed me?

The answer was clear as day: Luke had changed me, and it was with that in mind that I went to see him one particularly cold and dark evening.

It was threatening to rain as I approached Luke’s house, a large, fat raindrop falling onto my nose before I managed to get under the safety of the porch roof. I took a moment to calm my nerves before pressing on the doorbell, which notified me with a satisfying ding, dong that Luke, if he was home, knew someone was at the door.

I heard Luke shuffling inside, his muffled footsteps growing closer. He was home, at least, and I didn’t have to steel myself to return a second time. Whether he would see me was another question, however.

“Just a minute!” he called.

Moments later he opened the door, his polite smile disappearing as he saw who it was.

“I want to talk,” I told him quickly before he could shut the door in my face.

“Well,” he hesitated, “all right. I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

He stepped out onto the porch, folded his arms over his chest as a gust of cold, damp air hit him, and waited for me to speak.

“Go on,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay and listen.”