The Lies Of Dawn

C H A P T E R 22

Someone is outside my house.

Her hazel eyes snapped open as she heard the doorbell being pressed repeatedly, panic filling her being. Why would anyone come to her house at four a.m?

There was something mildly comical about her thoughts surrounding her unexpected guest.

Killers don’t knock on doors, Celia. Her subconscious snapped at her, not even Richard Chase did that, much less the Manson Family. You’re safe.

She knew she was being unreasonably paranoid but she couldn’t help herself. Her hands wrapped themselves instinctively around her stomach. The doorbell continued taking her ears off and she knew she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

But what if it was Brian? No, Ax had taken care of him, he wasn’t going to bother anyone again.

He promised.

She sat up from the bed, leaving her room without looking back. Her bare feet ran down the old wooden stairs, which creaked as they felt her weight. For a human who didn’t enjoy jump scares or any other type of fright, she had made the rather idiotic choice to buy one of the oldest houses in town. In movies, old houses meant ghosts and other creatures of the night but she had fallen in love with the Victorian design.

After all, she was a creature of night herself.

Insomnia had made sure she was.

Her feet dragged her to the front door. She took in a breath and unlocked it, the doorknob burning her hand as she twisted it. What she found on the other side left her completely speechless.

Ax looked like death himself. There was so much blood, everywhere she looked she noticed the crimson liquid sticking to his clothes and skin. His eyes were bloodshot and she wasn’t sure if they were a product of intense usage of his tear ducts or a product of drinking.

Celia was beyond afraid. Her blood ran cold inside her veins and she was afraid it would freeze and let her body slowly shut down from the lack of oxygen. Ax fell with a groan, the doorstep scraping his knees. She didn’t have to think twice before sitting down on the ground next to him. She kept her hands to her sides, afraid that he would flee if she made a wrong move.

She loved him, she couldn’t deny the fact any longer.

And she was so afraid for him.

“Ax?” She called his name, her voice unsteady.

He didn’t even look at her.

“Ax, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Desperation had filled her senses, it dominated her brain not allowing her to think properly. Suddenly, his rich dark blue eyes fell to her hazel ones. He stared at her deeply yet, at the same time, he was looking through her as if she was nothing but a figment of his imagination, nothing but fog that would eventually abandon his vision.

He said nothing.

Celia was growing impatient.

She felt the cold creep through the thin material of her clothing, stabbing her skin like small needles. Her body shivered and wanted to shrink away from the source of so many unwelcoming reactions but she had to speak to Ax first. Make him talk to her.

But first of all, she had to know if he had been hurt. Her hands explored every inch of skin they could find, searching for wounds but not finding any. If he hadn’t been hurt then what happened?

The nerves wouldn’t let her rest. Even if he didn’t carry any visible injuries it was clear that something had happened.

Something very bad had happened.