Dawson's Secret

Part 5: The Beginning of the End

"Okay," Dawson said after a few minutes. "Start whenever you like."

I sat there on the bed, my back against the bed-frame. I wasn't looking at Dawson when I spoke. "It started when I was seventeen," I started, referring to my self-harming. And my nightmare. "My boyfriend and I, we were going through a rough time. We were at a club one night; we got into an argument about how he wasn't around as much. I got pissed and went to the restroom to cool off. When I came out, Paul was on the dance-floor with another girl.

"I went over and stopped him. I told him we were done and to take me home. We then got into another argument, but this time we weren't paying attention to the road, and we got into an accident. He..."

I cut myself short. I could feel tears running down my cheeks. I bit my lip, trying not to make a sound, but unfortunately a whimper escaped my lips. That was when I lost it. I quickly covered my face with my hands as I started crying. Instantly I felt Dawson's arms wrap themselves around me. He pulled me closer and I was now buried in his chest. His left hand was on my back, while his other held the back of my head and stroked my hair. "Shh, it's okay Erica," he said softly. "No, it isn't," I sobbed. "It was my fault. It's always my fault."

He put his hand under my chin and lifted me so I was facing him. "No, it wasn't, Erica," he said as he caressed my cheek. "It wasn't your fault. He was an asshole." But I couldn't answer him. I was shaking like a leaf by then. I hadn't talked about Paul in so long. It was like I was reopening an old wound.

And it hurt.

Dawson sat there and cradled me for quite a while, listening to me cry. He stroked my hair, rubbed my back, and — at some point — kissed me on my forehead. I don't remember what happened after that, I think I cried myself to sleep.

★

Again, I woke up in a cold sweat. Shakily, I opened my eyes, sat up and looked around. Dawson laid next to me, asleep. Or he was asleep until he felt me move. He opened his eyes and looked at me frantically. "Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded quickly. "Yeah, I just woke up," I replied as I lay back down. Dawson had me under the covers, but instead of wearing my black shirt and jeans, I was wearing my blue and white striped pajama pants and matching scoop neck shirt. What?! "Umm, Dawson?" I inquired. "What?" he said, rubbing his eyes slightly as he sat up. That was when I noticed he was shirtless. And then he realized what I meant. "Oh. I went to your apartment and grabbed some of your clothes for you when I was out."

I raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused. "Really? Is that why you were gone that long?"

"No."

"Oh." I nodded slightly as he wrapped his arm around me. I moved myself closer to him, grateful he did that. I was cold. "Are you okay?" I asked nervously. "Of course," Dawson answered. "Why do you ask?" Oh my god. Here I go. I bit my lip hesitantly, suddenly afraid of asking him this one question. But I guess I can't help myself. I felt like I had to know. I kept my gaze on his chest as I spoke. "That painting on the stairs..." I began. "T-the one of the woman."

"Yeah? What about it?"

His tone had that edge to it. It made me rethink my question. But I went for it anyway. "Who is that woman?" I rushed out as fast as I could. He didn't reply for few moments. I started to think that he was going to have an outburst soon, so I looked up at him. I opened my mouth to speak, but too late — he sensed my fear. "It's okay, baby," he said, "don't be scared." He inhaled a deep breath, exhaled, and then he began his story. "I was in Massachusetts, it was 1692. I had just turned twenty-five. I lived on the edge of town with my mother and my wife, Maggie. We didn't bother anyone, and we liked it that way. But the the town started rounding up all the women — well, the one's that were free-thinking, that's one way to put it. But the townspeople didn't think of that way — they considered them witches.

"The townspeople came to our house one night, because someone in the village accused my mother and Maggie of being witches. Maggie wasn't, but my mother on the other hand..." Dawson trailed off as he caught me staring at him with awe and curiosity. "Your mother was a witch?" I asked softly. "Yes," he said, nodding. "She was a very powerful witch, and somehow, someone found out about her. I went after them, but by the time I got to them I was too late. They'd already set her ablaze. I managed to get Maggie before they could kill her, but I couldn't save my mother." He stopped and stared at the ceiling. He stared for a long time, and I stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he looked back at me and said, "That's how I came to be a vampire. Before she was taken, she performed a spell on me. I swear, it was as if she knew they were coming to take her. After she did it, she told me what would happen to me, I would start to crave human blood, and I would have to do it by the end of the night or else the spell wouldn't work... I killed the man who ratted her out. But first I killed his family, while he watched, one by one. But when Maggie found out after we got away, she couldn't handle it... I wanted to turn her, but she... She didn't want to be with me. She was afraid of me." He sighed. "I got upset and stormed off. I stayed out all night. But when I came home, Maggie had ambushed me." I looked at him, my eyes widening. "Ambushed?" I repeated. Dawson nodded. "While I was away, she traveled back home and convinced a few so-called 'witch hunters' that a vampire was the one that killed some of their livestock. She even got them to spare her from being burned at the stake alongside me." He scoffed, and then smirked at me. "What?" I asked. He shook his head. "Nothing. I want to stop talking about this."

"Okay," I nodded slowly. I didn't suggest to talk about it another time, partly because of it being a touchy subject for Dawson. I looked away and nestled closer to him. It took a lot for him to be so open to me about something like this. I liked that about him. "Erica?" said Dawson, out of the blue.

"Yeah?" I responded, slightly rubbing my eyes. Without speaking he grabbed me, and lifted me up so I was on top of him. "What are you —" I managed to say before his lips suddenly collided with mine.