The Red Winter

Chapter Eight - P2

I screamed an ear-splitting scream, looking around wildly. Then, without a second thought, I snapped the neck of the therapist. I hated babies, I despised them for all they were good at was dying

My little baby Rufus whom I saved from the warehouse had turned into that monster in Mors. How had I not seen it? A man without mercy who had sworn to kill all vampires, he shouldn't have even been bound by those laws! I closed my eyes tightly, to hide the regret I felt for my actions. I supposed despite any personal connections he would just have to pay the price for what he'd done, no matter how I felt about the aging man.

I slammed the door closed and doctors held clipboards tight to their chests as I stormed down the corridor, one brave doctor approached but backed away when I gave him the 'Myra glare'. Outside our car loomed ahead under a tree's watchful shade with Oliver dressed in a white shirt, denim jacket and brown khakis with sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked up from his phone and smiled brightly, it quickly faded when he saw my expression.

"Myra, what happened? Look I swear it was supposed to be a joke!" He had stupidly left the keys in the ignition so I climbed into the driver's side and put my foot down. Leaving Oliver stood with his arms up in a 'what the hell' gesture.

I wove through the traffic and back to our hotel, my breathing was harsh and staggered and hesitantly I decided to allow my vampire to take over. It made me lust for the blood of every person within miles but if hundreds of years had given me the control of a fledgling then I'd be damned. When I came closer to my lodgings I took control back, painting on a smile.

Within minutes the hotel was in sight and I gave the car to the valet before entering the lift. Alone, my hands wound their way into my hair as they had a habit of doing when things didn't go my way. I sobbed and fell to the plush carpeted floor whilst it became a drain for my torrent of tears.

Three memories,

One my love, one my ruin and one my weakness

All equal in pain.

For one left, one damned and one broke.

They shaped me,

love...

Yet each day I paid the consequence for my acts,

And I'm claimed emotionless.

The lift came to a stop and shakily I grabbed the gold banister and stood. A businessman entered and looked startled, he went to help but I shook my head.

"I'd rather not be touched," I choked out.

Stumbling I entered my room; I ripped the lamp from its bolts and threw it at the gold framed mirror. The hotel's phone fell to my despair, along with the light shade and many other grab-able items in my room. I pulled my mobile out my pocket and pressed a number only several days ago I had considered deleting.

"Myra? Are you there? Is that you? Come home!" Reid said over the phone and I breathed quietly; his voice feeling comforting as I leant against the door. I'm wasn't sure why but I felt more at ease when I heard his voice.

"Bye Reid." Then I destroyed my phone.

I stood, dusted myself off and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, considering the other had a large crack through it. I looked scared, mascara streaks ran down my face, my hair was flat and my eyes were wide and frightened.

"Get a grip," I said to the pathetic image in the mirror.

I showered, then with a towel around my hair, I stepped over the room's debris to the box with a formal dress for the evening. It was floor length, cream, the bottom half being silk with beading which gradually faded to a sheer fabric on the shoulders. When my minimal makeup was applied I plaited my curly hair into a loose side fishtail, letting it drape over my shoulder. I grabbed my clutch and tucked in my invitation, tonight I was going to feel like royalty again. After all, I was Lady Hillington.