The Garden of What Once Was

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The day had long since vanished to make way for night. Though, that night seemed to hold an air of dreadfulness in its deep winds and dark clouds that blanketed over the bright moon. These clouds held no rain to release down to the Earth. They only seemed to have gathered for the sole purpose of shielding the heavens above from the impending tragedy that had yet to befall below. That tragedy began to set into motion as one oblivious vampire raced around his dorm room, desperately trying to scrounge up what was left of his good looks. He threw on a tight-fitted long sleeve shirt with cargo pants. But, unfortunately, a stylish outfit was no use if he looked like a monster with a bird's nest for hair.

"Fuck," Reed cursed after catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, quickly snatching up a hair brush that had been neglected recently. "I can't win her back if I'm looking like a pathetic wreck."

Once his hair was brushed to perfection, he took the time to check himself out in the mirror, turning every which way to get all possible angles of himself. There was no hint of the pathetic, sulking vampire from before. All that was left was the vampire that was determined to succeed. He wouldn't let Cohen deceive and use Ember, at least not without fighting for her. It didn't matter if he had to scream out the three words that only ever brought him suffering or if he had to get on his knees and pour his heart out, abandoning his pride all together.

Nothing was too high of a price for Ember, not even his immortality. Now this may have been foolish of him to think, but that's just what love is. It's foolish, full of mistakes and sometimes regrets, yet under all of that is a hint of brightness. That brightness was all Reed needed to grasp onto to pull him through the darkness that had gathered around him ever since Ember left him.

One last fleeting glance to the mirror and he was running out of his dorm. His thoughts were so full of what he would say to Ember that he didn't even realize his door hadn't even closed.

As he trekked across campus to the gazebo, it seemed as though nature had drawn into itself. The crickets had silenced their peaceful trill, the wind stopped, and the flowers seemed to have tucked their fragile petals inward. This was a quiet warning that Reed should have heeded, instead he ignored it with every step toward the gazebo. When the sole of his shoe finally met the cobblestone pathway leading to the gazebo, all had gone silent. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of Reed's heart beat.

He quickly looked at his watch, hoping with all his heart that he was early. The digital numbers read, 10:01. His stomach lurched as the lone beating of his heart became magnified. There should have been another heart beat by now. But, there was only his. Am I too late? It had only been a minute since ten, but a minute could have been seconds too long for Ember. Still, Reed held onto the hope that she was just running late. He sat himself down on one of the cold chairs under the gazebo.

After ten minutes passed without any sight of Ember, his eyes began to grow heavy. Each blink became longer than the last until he was unable to force his eyes to stay open for a second longer. Sleep found him, encasing him in a dream that took him away from the nightmare he was unknowingly living in. That nightmare found him as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled him out of his dream.

Although his eyes were still closed, he could feel a gaze on him. It was a gaze that a predator holds in their eyes when looking down at their vulnerable prey. Goosebumps prickled across his skin as he came upon the chilling realization that he was not the predator but the prey in this situation. He fought against the urge to open his eyes, instead using his hearing to figure out who was standing in front of him.

Their heart beat was erratic with almost no rhythm to it, making it hard for him to determine their species. Then, there was their strange breathing. They would inhale for almost 3 seconds, as though they were trying to fill every inch of their lungs with oxygen, then they would exhale sharply. This all troubled Reed greatly, yet he refused to make the first move. He waited with bated breath for them to do something, anything. Then, finally, it happened. Three words were said.