Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

4 Haunted

Iris~~

The park is haunting at night.

I lean against the railing, looking out at the dark Patapsco River as small waves lap against the stones below. Erik hovers beside me. Neither of us has spoken for the past few minutes.

"Why didn't you go out west? Extend your day?" Gain extra hours. Not that it really matters. My death is fated. If I was meant to die out west, I would have found my way there. But since I didn't, I know Baltimore is it for me.

"I can't drag this out anymore."

In response Erik looks at his watch. "11:55."

I take a deep breath. "If I could have, I would have gone east. To Europe. Africa. It doesn't matter where." The water is lit up only by the moon and the streetlamps behind us.

"I'm sure they're not that great." Even in my final moments he can't tell me the truth. He's been out of the country many times while the public is forced to stay inside the borders. No one goes out. No one comes in. Unless they have the Society's explicit permission.

"So many people told me that if it was possible, I should have killed myself to end the dread."

"Would you have?" He looks at me as he asks it.

Stars twinkle around the moon. The dome the sky makes becomes too apparent, and I feel trapped even though I'm about to escape. "I don't think so. But I suppose no one can really be sure." My breathing picks up as I become more aware of how small this world is. A world I never got to explore.

"11:59."

I would have thought that I would start sobbing, but I don't. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm all dried out of tears. My ears start to focus on the ticking of Erik's watch. What was background noise now makes my eardrums pound. "I didn't do it." I didn't make them pay.

"Do what?"

It feels like there's a weight on my chest, and I have to sink to the sidewalk.

"Iris?" Erik actually sounds worried. He drops down next to me. "What's wrong?"

"I know who—"

"It's midnight."

His words make me forget what I was going to say. "Your watch must be fast."

"My watch is perfect . . ."

"You've really made being cruel a talent?" I shove away from him and stand, walking down the path, needing to get away from him, the Society.

"Where are you going?"

I spin around to face him. "You're lying to me."

"I swear to you, it's August 11."

I run my hands over my face, my ears, and into my hair. "That's impossible."

"I know it is."

He stands, not looking at me as he focuses on holding the railing, his mouth parted—he's actually shocked.

I'm not sure who's more in disbelief.

I'm scared to allow relief in. I know no one has lived past midnight because of what time zone they're in, but something's wrong here. I don't want to die, but this is excruciating.

"Erik—"

"No."

"Let me finish."

"No."

"Why not?"

He straightens his back, pulling himself together enough to face me. "Because it's absurd."

"How absurd can it be if I'm still standing here?"

He doesn't answer. His face holds regret.

"You're still waiting for me to die."

"Aren't you?"

My left arm prickles as if a few ants bit me at the same time or I was injected with a shot. I scratch at my Expiration Date. An Expiration Date that's now Expired, meaning I'm Expired. The part that's hard to swallow is everyone who has inherited that term is dead.

The prickle turns into a sharp stab, and I jab my fingernails into my skin in an attempt to disperse the pain.

This seems to draw Erik's attention. "What's wrong?"

"My Mark." A burning sensation starts up under my skin and quickly heats up until I can't stand on my feet. I collapse to my knees, cradling my arm.

Erik is at my side, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my arm. "What about your Mark?"

"It's burning—" I clamp my mouth shut to stop a cry from escaping. The pain is searing. If it was a fire, the flame would be blue. He's the Society. He has to know what's happening. "Do something. Please." I crumble to the ground, clutching my arm.

"Well, what would you like me to do?" Sarcasm drips from his voice.

"I don't know. Cut it off. Something." If this is how I die, then I'll embrace death if it means escaping this pain.

"You want me to cut off your arm?"

"Can you quit with the mocking?"

"It's hard not to when you're being so dramatic."

I want to punch him. I want a bucket of water. "My arm feels like it's being cooked."

"See? Dramatic."

"I thought you would understand."

The river. Water. The stone railing isn't that high if I was standing, but the drop is far and ends with rocks.

"Why would I understand . . . Iris? Oh, no, you don't."

His arms wrap around my waist, stopping me from inching closer to the water. I thrash against him, tears running down my face. If I get to the water, all of this will end.

"Let me go."

"The water isn't going to help you."

"Has your Mark ever felt like it burst into flames?"

"No, but—"

"Then let me go."

He yanks me to my feet and drags me away from the water. I claw at his arms, but despite the scratches I leave, he doesn't let go.

"As soon as it stops, you'll be able to think clearly."

"Will it stop?"

"Sure."

"That doesn't—"

Somehow, he's able to clamp a hand over my mouth and still hold onto me. "Will you stop screaming? Someone will think you're being murdered."

I stiffen, and he groans. "Relax," he says. "I'm not going to kill you."

Erik Blackwood drags me through the dark streets of Baltimore. With the pain not subsiding, the journey is a blur. I can't say when I passed from the streets into a bright room or if I climbed into the cot or if Erik laid me down. At some point Erik is there and at others he's not. The pain is always there.

Thank you for any votes and comments! And a huge thank you for checking out my story. 

Instagram: @mikaelabender

#Bookstagram: @oflightsandfaeries

Twitter: @MikaelaBender

TikTok: @MikaelaBender