Hemlock Clan: What I Am

~ XLII ~

Blake

Panting, I closed the door behind me and pushed my back against it, trying to catch my breath.

Fuck.

Racing from the city to the mansion had taken a lot out of me. It shouldn't have, though. But it had.

Was it because of my injured arm?

Or was it Cameron's words, still punching my chest, stabbing at my soul? I could still feel them tearing into me, ripping me apart.

Tears stung my eyes yet again, but I didn't fight them. I was tired of fighting them. They were endless. Sliding down the door till my ass hit the floor, I stretched my legs out in front of me, hung my head and hugged my waist, hissing when my bare injured arm grazed my nude torso.

Shit.

I had to come home. I had no choice. My arm needed looking at and I was feeling weak. My thirst had increased and I had to stop myself from feeding on every human I raced past. Even though I'd taken more than I should have from that prick back at Cameron's apartment building, I still wasn't satisfied. My hunger had returned full force straight after I'd left him at his door, asleep, with no memory of seeing me today.

My fangs grew, poking my bottom lip, reminding me that I was still hungry, still needing blood.

Tears trickled down my cheeks, letting me know that my soul had been torn apart, shredded by Cameron's words.

As much as I understood his fear, his pain, his anger, it did nothing to lessen the hurt that I felt, the pain that I was in.

I wasn't a monster. I knew that. But to hear Cameron call me that ...

A sob escaped my lips, and then another. Useless tears fell from my eyes, like an endless well of sadness.

It was like my soul was feeling the pain of his words more than it should. And I didn't understand why.

Cameron didn't mean it. Not really. He couldn't. He was just scared ... confused. Upset. I would let him cool off for a couple of days, let him get his head around what he'd seen. Then I would go to see him, explain everything to him.

I wouldn't give up on him. On us. I couldn't. Because my soul couldn't take it. I knew I wouldn't survive without him.

"Blake?" My mother's voice drifted down the hallway and I lifted my head to see her walking towards me, concern etched into her pretty face.

"Blake. What's wrong?" She knelt down beside me, ran a hand through my hair.

I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth as I moved my arms from around my waist. Turning over my burned arm, Mom gasped as she saw the injury.

"Blake! What happened?" She reached over and held my arm carefully, peering at the peeling skin and oozing blisters. "Were you burned?"

I nodded and sniffed, wiping at my eyes with my free hand. "Yeah. The sun ..."

Mom shook her head, her eyes sympathetic. "Come with me. Let's get this cleaned up." She helped me to my feet, then wrapped an arm around my waist as she led me down the hallway. "And while I'm fixing up your arm, you can tell me why you're so upset."

*****

Lying on my back on the sofa in one of the sitting rooms, one arm bandaged up, I stared at the ceiling. A blood bag was fastened to a drip on my good arm in an attempt to help my insatiable hunger.

My tears had dried. It was like my body needed everything it could to help heal the burn, including my tears. Mom had applied some fresh blood out of the bag to the burn before wrapping it up.