Young Writers Society

Chapter Ten

I closed the door and turned to Jasper’s glare. “You were saying,” he said between clenched teeth.

He went back into his sitting room and slammed the doors without looking back. I walked over to the door and said a little louder than usual, “I don’t know why this upsets you so much. You are being completely asinine. And you-you just need to stop. Just stop” I sobbed, my voice growing weaker with each tear.

I heard him walk to the door and with each step my heart rate grew faster and faster. He stopped just on the other side of the door, the shadows of his feet dancing through the crack between the floor and doors.

“Are you crying?” He asked through the door. He sounded appalled.

I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek. “No,” I said but my voice betrayed me and cracked.

Slowly, he opened the door. I looked down, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn’t just apologizing for the words that had upset me.

He reached toward me, hesitantly lifting up my chin. His eyes were gentle and sincere.

More traitor tears brimmed over when he lowered his face and lightly brushed his lips, his cold icy lips, against mine. He backed away to measure my reaction. Something in my eyes told him that this was acceptable.

His eyes were wild and his grin was set without any hint of a change.

He took my face in his hands and I stopped breathing. Then, again, his cool lips pressed very softly to mine. However, this time I wasn’t so unresponsive.

My fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted as I breathed in his mellifluous scent.

The tiny piece of my brain that retained sanity screamed questions at me.

Why wasn’t I stopping this? Worse than that, why couldn’t I find it in myself to want to stop? What did it mean that I didn’t want him to stop? That my hands clung to his shoulders, and liked that they were wide and strong? That his hands pulled me tight to his body, and yet it was not tight enough.

I could answer all of those questions with one simple answer. The answer that was so clear the first time I set eyes on this beautiful creature.

I love him.

He backed away again, running his finger tip over my lips. “Shall we retire to a place a little more comfortable?” He asked, taking me into his arms.

I simply nodded, because any words I could have said would have seemed usless. A spiral of wind weaved around us, lifting us into the air. Within the next moment, we were in the comforts of my bed, still in each others arms.

Several hours later, he held me. He still had his jeans on, scratchy against my bare legs. I’d been kissed before but not like that, not there. If sex is any better than that, I don’t think I could survive it.

The sun was about to rise and I could feel him holding me tighter. I lifted my head to look at him. “You have to go,” I guessed.

He sighed. “If there was a way to fight it, I’d find it. I’d do anything to be with you always and forever.” He kissed my forehead and got off of the bed.

I sat up and watched him put on his shirt and walk to the door. “I love you.” He whispered and disappeared down the stairs.

I sat there for a while just staring at the door. My heart was fluttering like a humming bird’s wings. Cameron never gave me that feeling after we were together. What was the difference? Could it be that I never truly loved Cameron? We spent so long together; I didn’t really know a me without him. Not at that school anyway. But here, yes, here, I made a new beginning. I found new friends and things were going well.

Despite my minor seizure.

When I was eight I had my first seizure, my father couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. He took me to the hospital and it was there that I was diagnosed with epilepsy. The doctor explained the disease the best he could but I still didn’t understand, I mean, I was only eight.

The seizures are caused by something wrong in my brain. Something getting shut down that needs to be functioning for me to act normal. If I take my meds and eat a healthy diet, the seizures go away. I haven’t gotten around to telling my father that I barely eat anymore. I lied to Jasper too, I’m not stressing out, it’s my diet.

My alarm clock went off then, interrupting my thought chain. What an odd turn that took, I thought to myself.

After I hesitantly took my shower—I wouldn’t want another episode— I attempted to find something to wear. “Nothing fits!” I screamed out loud. All of my t-shirts were too loose and my pants almost fell down. Lately, things have been getting big but nothing this drastic. I found a belt and layered two t-shirts so they wouldn’t look that big.

It was too early to wake up Bailey, so I watched some TV in the sitting room. Jasper’s room was locked as per usual, but that made me think of the library. It seems a bit funny that I asked him to go in there for no apparent reason when thinking it was just a dream.

I turned the TV off and went up the stairs two at a time. I hesitated in front of the library door. It had been managed to be closed so I put my hand on the door knob. No electrifying current. I turned it slowly and opened the door. Nothing seemed to have moved and I walked through the doorway.

I walked around the table and looked at the books on it, nothing seemed familiar. Walking around the shelves, I brushed my hand across the leather bound books. Some of these had to be at least a hundred years old. There had to be a book here that I could use to help Jasper. I picked up an encyclopedia and looked up ghost. He didn’t really fit the description.

A ghost is usually said to be the apparition of a deceased person, frequently similar in appearance to that person, and usually encountered in places she or he frequented, the place of his or her death, or in association with the person's former belongings. The word "ghost" may also refer to the spirit or soul of a deceased person, or to any spirit or demon.[1][2][3] Ghosts of animals have also been reported.[4] Ghosts are often associated with hauntings.

Jasper couldn’t be an apparition because I could touch him. He can hold things and move things, even with his special powers. I put the book back and started looking for something else. I picked up a book about vampires. Again, he didn’t really fit the description.

Vampires are mythological or folkloric revenants who subsist by feeding on the blood of the living. In folkloric tales, the undead vampires often visited loved ones and caused mischief or deaths in the neighborhoods they inhabited when they were alive. They wore shrouds and were often described as bloated and of ruddy or dark countenance, markedly different from today's gaunt, pale vampire which dates from the early Nineteenth Century. Although vampiric entities have been recorded in most cultures, the term vampire was not popularized until the early 18th century, after an influx of vampire superstition into Western Europe from areas where vampire legends were frequent, such as the Balkans and Eastern Europe,[1] although local variants were also known by different names, such as vrykolakas in Greece and strigoi in Romania. This increased level of vampire superstition in Europe led to what can only be called mass hysteria and in some cases resulted in corpses actually being staked and people being accused of vampirism.

He didn’t live off the blood of anyone. If my vampire knowledge is correct, he isn’t allowed to enter a house where humans live, not stuck in it.

I shrugged and put the book back on the shelf. Could it be possible that he is a mixture of both a vampire and a ghost? I read a book once about a boy who was bitten by a vampire but wasn’t completely transformed into one. He couldn’t remember how it happened or who bit him; all he could do was sit in the house. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t sleep, and didn’t age.

I gasped at that point and said out loud, “Is it possible that you were bitten, by a vampire I mean?” What seemed to be in the distance was a ghostly chuckle that ran a shiver down my spine. However, he didn’t answer and further than that.