Page 46 of Before We Burn

I close the door and move to the dresser, finding clothing of different sizes, undergarments, and all the toiletries anyone would need to make themselves comfortable. I briefly wonder who did all of this, but something tells me I shouldn’t try to figure it out. I need to accept that sometimes people do nice things, and that's all that matters.

I shower, change, and attempt to sleep for most of the day. Even though I don’t need to, I enjoy the realm it brings me to—the place where I can dream of anything and be anyone without dealing with the harsh realities I’m constantly facing.

Ever since I intercepted Everett’s dreams, his feelings have felt like my own. He was upset, sad, and angry. There were so many emotions coursing through him that I knew he was becoming buried beneath them. Once I’m done trying to sleep, I sit up and debate if I should check if he’s okay. He’s probably had to deal with this type of thing before, right? Humans usually have a high emotional response to change, and this is one of those times it would make sense.

He found out his friend is a witch plotting for revenge against the people who took his family. The revenge Everett has been planning was confirmed to not be against the vampires, but the person he has been working for. His entire life changed.

Ultimately, the need to make sure he’s alright forces me out of my room and to the first room I found while exploring earlier. I knock on the door gently, not wanting to scare him. The silence in the room is interrupted by a splash, followed by the sound of someone crying, raising my alarms.

I grip the cold metal doorknob tightly and turn it, taking a deep breath. Comforting people has never been something I was good at. I’ve always moved through life with the idea that if it doesn’t serve you, you shouldn’t acknowledge it—that applies to emotions, too.

The door creaks open, and the scents of tobacco and whiskey assault my senses. The room is dark, the bed made, and clothes line the floor to the bathroom. Light seeps under the door, and the sounds of quiet sobs make my heart break for him.

I stop at the door, unsure if I should go any farther. He is vulnerable, and I’ve learned throughout the years that people—especially men—don’t like to be perceived when they’re like this.

His thoughts are dark and growing darker by the minute, and I’m afraid if I fall asleep without at least checking on him, I will wake up and have to mourn someone who I, very slowly, am becoming attached to. I can’t imagine going a day without seeing him.

As much as I want to deny the chemistry between us, it’s there. I care for Everett. I enjoy the way he is able to adapt. Manuevering life the way he has been is admirable. The way he listens to me…

My thoughts trail off, emotions bubbling behind them as my mind wanders back to Everett in the bathtub.

I knock on the door, and the sobbing stops instantly. I hear him clear his stuffed nose. “I’m going to bed,” he shouts, his words slurred.

I slowly open the door to a giant bathroom boasting a massive copper clawfoot tub and brown tiling along the walls and floor. It really looks like a bathroom fit for royalty.

I lean against the door frame, my head resting against the cool wood to relieve some of the tension in my temples as I take him in.

He’s lying in a tub filled with soap and water, holding a bottle of aged whiskey. His eyes are red and filled with tears, and I see all of his healed wounds on his exposed chest that have bubbled over, forming small keloids. He sits straight up in the water once he realizes it’s me, clearing his throat.

“Sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” He clears his throat again.

He takes a large gulp from the bottle of liquor in his hand before pulling it away. His body is languid; he has had so much of that alcohol he probably doesn’t realize how drunk he is. By the smell of it, he is dangerously close to passing out.

I sigh. “Everett, you shouldn’t drink in the tub. You could drown.”

He looks at me with so much emotion it gathers in my chest. He knew what he was doing.

“That would do everyone a favor.” The words fly out of his mouth, and regret appears instantly on his face.

I step fully into the room and search for something to sit on, like a small stool or an empty trash bin to turn over. I don’t find anything, so instead I sit at the edge of the tub, keeping my face neutral despite my anxiety. I don’t know how to talk to someone like this.

“I don’t think it would be a service.”

“Didn’t you hear on the train? I’m a monster. I was the only one who wanted to eradicate the vampires. Benny was only in it for a cover.” His voice breaks as he speaks. He’s too drunk, and I need him to calm down.

The thought of entering his mind and forcing him to sleep is a possibility, but that won’t solve anything. It would just make this tomorrow’s problem, and I would be an anxious mess another day.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I want to help, and I can relate to how he’s feeling. There are more than a few things I’ve done which classify me as a monster.

“When I was five years turned, I was finally on the council's team as an assassin. An honor to most vampires, but a curse to me. They picked me because of my gifts—it’s unusual for a vampire to enter a person’s mind and hear their private thoughts. It’s even more unusual for a vampire to be able to enter the mind and pull from it whatever they wanted. My first hit was on a family. There were five of them—a mother, father, and their three children.”

I pause for a moment, the memory buried so deep it hurts to bring it out. Everett’s eyes have gone blood shot, deep red veins corrupting the whites of his eyes as his face tightens in concentration.

“My task was simple. Eliminate them all. I didn’t ask why—there was no need to. I was already filled with rage, convinced the council wouldn’t senselessly kill families just because. This had to be something bad if I was being sent.”

Everett watches me with wonder, his thoughts silent as I tell my story, and for the first time I’m afraid he might see me in a different light. That maybe this is all he needs to decide I’m the enemy after all.

“I went during the day—I wanted them all to be up when I killed them. I wanted them to see my face and know there was not an ounce of care for their lives.”