“I have not forgotten you, mon amour. We can make new memories.”
Vincent leans over and softly kisses my lips. His kiss turns urgent and it overwhelms me. And I still feel wrong. I don’t know what it is because I love Vincent and I want to be with him and show him. Had they attacked me? Am I repressing some memory that prevents me from being intimate with him?
I press against his chest and he pulls away, searching my eyes. “You’re different.”
I frown and drop my eyes from his heavy gaze.
“What have they done to you?” He touches his forehead to mine.
“Please don’t be disappointed with me.”
His dark blue eyes hold a rueful look. “I could never be disappointed with you. It will only take time. I will kill every one of them who hurt you.” Vengeance flashes in his eyes and it scares me.
The days merge together, and I can’t keep up with what day it is. Each day I await a message from Casper, and I know the more we talk, the more I like him. I can’t be doing this to Vincent, but I can’t stop. I feel like a terrible person because I’m not a cheater. The guilt eats at me and I know I should stop talking to Casper.
Every time I dream, it’s of Vincent and our life at our palace. We spend our days walking, talking, and kissing. And our nights seem to be consumed by parties at the palace. But the voice from my memory still haunts me. Outside of my dreams, Vincent doesn’t send me a single message, which annoys me. I know he isn’t at school because of his suspension, so, where is he? What is he doing? I think something might have happened to his mom.
I text him, asking if he’s okay.
No. I really miss my girl.
I miss you, too. How is your mom?
Worse.
I’m sorry. Anything I can do?
I hate how simple his messages are. If he really misses me, wouldn’t he want to talk more?
Get well. I’m at the hospital. I will talk to you later.
I let out an annoyed sigh. But I feel bad because I’m acting too selfish. I know he needs to spend as much time with his mom as possible. I hate this. I miss him so much and while he’s grieving for his mother, I’m talking to his arch enemy.
My first two weeks of sickness pass and I still feel the same. I wonder if I’ll ever feel normal again. With all the sleep, it’s like my dreams are the only thing going on in my life. It feels like ages since I’ve seen Cherry. I miss her and hope she hasn’t forgotten about me.
My throat finally stops aching and I’m able to talk again, but not much. Mom called the doctor and she told Mom that I’m still contagious and to take it easy. I do a lot of make-up homework and I’ve written more in my story, including the bits that Vincent wrote.
The days seem endless and I’m excruciatingly bored. To walk outside and feel the cool crisp air would be nice. To see something other than the four lavender walls of my room. I’m tired of staring at my band posters. No one can visit either.
One night, I finally get a message from Vincent asking if I’m still sick, so I call.
“Hey, you,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m fine.” I can hear the irritation in my voice.
“It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Can I come over?”
“No. I’m still contagious. My parents won’t let anyone come over.”
“I can sneak into your bedroom.”
“No, they’d find out.”
He lets out a sigh. “Can you help a guy out? I’ll be outside your house at around midnight. I need to see you.”
“What? You can’t come over.”
“I’ll park down the street. See you tonight.”
He hangs up before I can object. I don’t care that it’s been forever since we’ve talked. I want to see him. I need to.
Midnight comes and I stayed up so I can see if Vincent did come. I’m not sure how I’m going to open the front door without making a sound and waking up the dogs. But somehow, I creep across the hardwood floor soundlessly and slowly turn the knob on the glass paned door. I step outside and shiver, even though I’m wearing a heavy coat over my flannel pajamas, a beanie, a scarf, thick socks and shoes. I close the door behind me and walk out into the yard. The full moon is high above and very bright tonight.
I stand outside, shivering and waiting for Vincent. I don’t know what I want to say to him, but it makes no sense that I haven’t heard from him. I hear footsteps and I see him nearing my driveway. I meet him in front of the bush to hide from the house, though everyone is asleep.
Vincent rushes up and circles his arms around me, cradling my head against his chest, but I keep my hands in my jacket pocket. “It’s been so long.” He kisses my forehead. “I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I speak into his warm jacket and shiver.
“My car is warm, come on.” His warm hands take mine and once we’re inside the car, we snuggle in the front seat with the heat on.
“You shouldn’t get this close to me,” I tell him, but I enjoy feeling his arms around me.
I feel him shrug. “I don’t care. I wanted to see you.”
I smile.
“When are you coming back to school?”
“I don’t know. My doctor said I’ll probably be out for a month.”
Vincent groans. “My poor baby’s sick. This is brutal. Having you this close and not being able to kiss
