FicWad

Play: 1973 ~ James Blunt

I stared into the mirror, trying to remember exactly what the hell I was doing. My face was paler than normal, and I shivered, an icy bite to the air in the bathroom. I felt disgusted with myself. I didn't know what was going on, in my head, in my heart, utterly confused me and all that had happened was a kiss. Perfectly innocent.

But not that innocent, don't think you can get away with this, young lady. You didn't say no, did you? Don't let him back in, he's scum. Look at what he did to you, you could have had a human life and grown old and settled down and got married and...

But I'd be dead. The thought hit me like a heavy weight. Maybe I owe him. Back then I needed him so much. He saved my life, and looked after me, even if for a short time. He must have cared a litte, at least.

But Logan. I just thought of his name and this well of shame opened up and I cast myself into it. I love him, how could I do that to him? Maybe I'm just a horrible bitchy nasty slutty...

"Are you alright? I heard you getting kind of..." Logan muttered, peering around the door. That was the whole thing with Logan. He didn't read my thoughts, ever. Not in the most severe cases, he said it was because he respected my privacy and thinks that it's wrong not not let me even think freely. He could feel them, though, he could feel my anger or frustration or sadness practically through the walls of the house. But I could be human, here. I could pretend nothing was wrong and that everything was fine, as long as I could act well enough. Just one look into his eyes made me decide that I wasn't going to tell him about what had happened. I couldn't do that to him. Well, I couldn't tell him yet.

"I'm fine, just tired, stressed. Travelling has taken a lot out of me." I smiled gently, convincingly, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Are you sure?" he said quietly, and I opened my eyes to see him reflected in the mirror behind me, his arms around my waist, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. He looked back at me, blue eyes clear, but with an air of concern that was typical of him. Wanting to make it clear he cared, but not make it stifling or annoy me. That made it all the harder for me to talk, and therefore all the harder for me to lie to him. "Any way, I need to wash my hair, I look awful." I managed to string together, making them sound like words.

"Come on, I'll help you wash your hair." he sighed, nuzzling my neck. I smiled, grateful for it. When I wasn't feeling quite right he'd always stay constantly at my side, stuck like glue, because he knew it was what I wanted, how I felt safe. He'd discovered this one summer when I had been subject to ultraviolet burns to my shoulders, and was incredibly anxious if I couldn't easily touch him or feel his presence. Burning guilt hit me again. I took my pyjamas off, and threw them in the hamper, jumping into the shower and out of the cold chill of the room. He followed, and the warm water quickly took the chill away.

"You're freezing, how long have you been awake? You need to feed, okay..." he sighed, wrapping his arms around me, trying to stop my shivering. "Oh, Lucretia."

"I'm fine, just let me get warm." I muttered in his ear. The palm of his hand made circles up and down my back, and he kissed the top of my head.

"What's up with you, hmmm? You seem unsettled, tense." he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder.

"I just... I just need you a lot right now." My voice sounded cracked, broken. I couldn't get rid of the strangled feeling in my throat. My love for him overwhelmed me, now that I had lashed out against it once. The hot water ran down my back, and it calmed me, making my breathing less startled, and his breath, travelling from his lungs, to his throat, and from his mouth to tickle my ear made me feel even more at ease.

"I love you, you beautiful, beautiful woman." he sighed, and kissed me gently, for fear of making me uneasy. In this mood I generally didn't like him trying to make a move on me, and would often get annoyed if he tried. For all his childishness and joking, Logan would never try and purposely add to my worries when I was this upset. He was there to be so much more than that. I remembered back to the first time we'd stood here, like this. It was certainly much more nightmarish than the current circumstances.

He'd found me, lying on the floor of the kitchen, covered in blood and as cold as ice. It had never occured to him what horrors I'd been subjected to, what I'd turned into. He instantly picked me up in his arms, carried me to the shower and held me until my pale skin was warm again, despite my protests. Being a weak and recklessly hungry new vampire, I gave in to what I wanted. There and then I attacked him, and by the next morning he was like me. Cold, dead, but very much some how alive. And we survived. We survived together.

I curled up on my bed with him late that morning, and didn't wake until it was dark. Until I heard the screaming. Oh, the screaming.