"You cannot love her," They whisper. "For it is a sin." I only smile at their words knowing that they have not knelt at her altar nor tasted the divinity staining her lips. They have not heard her giggles murmured between every kiss. "So be it then," I say. "I will walk into hell gladly knowing I've held heaven in my hands."

Arabella Karve I like to believe my thorns were once flowers. That maybe 'I love you' wasn't always a death sentence in my mouth.

I know that the thing I am now isn't what I was born, that the ashes I carry with me are what's left of the girl I used to be. She was the cost of what it took to survive, a little girl who was never mourned except by me on quiet nights. Nights where I am left to feel her rotting away beneath my skin that is too alive.

Undeservingly alive.

I wait until the day I look down at my hands and finally see the decaying flesh, falling off my ivory bones and reflecting the disarray of my soul. It would all finally make sense again—I would make sense again.

I would know that I did in fact die that night, and no longer feel insane for mourning someone who is still alive. Someone who still wakes up every morning and fills their lungs with air.

But a part of me knows I'm not that lucky.

I may not have been born the girl I am now, but I do know that I was a child born with tragedy in my blood.

I hiss quietly under my breath as I throw open the small window, the cold night air slicing against the flushed skin of my cheeks. I look behind me— waiting for any sign of life within the dark bedroom that could threaten my dwindling chances at freedom. Nothing.

I turn back to the open view, letting the stinging of the fall breeze soothe my erratic heart before throwing my legs over the stone window seal.

Slowly angling my body, I find footing in the brick wall that is veiled by overgrown ivy crawling up the manor. I go against every instinct screaming at me not to look down, regretting it the second I do. I freeze.

Three stories up, an unsteady body, and only gravel to soften the fall.

Either I am dead or paralyzed on impact. Or I escape and never have to think about these grounds again.

The thought is enough to unlock my stiff limbs.

I clench my teeth together until the point of pain in order to die out the quiet wince, my body slicing against the remorseless wall. I slowly scale down, every movement taking more effort than the last.

I am almost five feet from the ground when I push off the wall, going into freefall for just a couple seconds. I let out a breathless curse as I harshly hit the ground, the gravel crunching beneath the heels of my boots.

Before letting another second go to waste, I push my body up against the wall—concealing myself within the shadows that hide from the soft glow of the moonlight.

I try to pretend that the shadows are on my side, letting them envelope my body in a comforting hug so that for once I don't feel so alone.

So that I don't have to run away from the only place I have ever known without anything on my side.

I'm not alone, they will be here with me, protecting me, rooting for me.

I don't take my eyes off of the small camera suspended from the roof.

It is uncoincidentally faced right at me, watching my every move, waiting for any sign of movement. All I can do is hope that the shadows are truly the one thing in this world on my side, and that he is not watching me.

By some miracle, I hope he has let down his guard for just a few moments.

My heart races as it turns—painfully slow— in the opposite direction, moving on to capture some other danger hiding in the dark on the other side. It is now or never.

I refuse to be someone who isn't brave enough to do something.

Without another thought I throw myself off of the wall and out of the shadows, breaking into a full sprint towards the woods surrounding the sleeping manor.

I don't even bother looking back at the place that I grew up in, where I became unable to distinguish the line between a childhood home and a prison. The memories I have here are better forgotten, undiscovered.

The dead leaves and fallen branches crunch under my feet, harmonizing with the sound of my ragged breaths. My lungs burn, every bone in my body beginning to ache.

I can't stop, I have to keep moving.

I chant my memorized directions over and over again—navigating my way through the maze of trees and darkness.

"Stay north until the willow tree, turn right at the river," the ragged words come out between my chattering teeth and frozen lips.

I try to ignore how well I know this part of the woods. And why I do.

This time I cannot mess up. I don't know how much longer I will survive if I have to stay here.

My body floods with relief as my eyes finally land upon the labyrinth of buildings that make up the quiet town just a few miles out from the manor.

I made it further than I ever have before.

A sharp chill runs down my spine, something about this feeling too easy. I push the thought down.

I wrap my black hoodie tighter around my shivering body, regretting the other layers that I left behind while in a hurry to leave.

My dark hair gently blows behind me in the bitter wind, reassuring me to keep moving as it rakes through the long strands falling down my back. I take a deep breath, beginning to walk towards the empty streets.

He won't find me this far out, I tell myself over and over again.

Saying he won't find me is easy, believing it is what is hard.

I walk along the dimly illuminated streets, studying how different the town is at this time of night. During the day it's filled with smiling people and the blissful sounds of laughter. But now in the veil of darkness, it 's become a ghost town.

The street is eerily silent, filled with nothing but the light sound of my heels tapping against the asphalt.

My face stings against the crisp breeze, the air numbing my pale skin.

It's lovely that the night I decide to leave it happens to be the coldest day this month. Just my mother-fuking luck.

My heart jumps into my throat when I suddenly become aware of a second set of quickened footsteps echoing from behind me, my pitying thoughts going silent for once.

I snap my head behind me, praying I am just being neurotic like I have been for years.

The breath gets knocked out of my lungs, seeing a sinewy figure dressed in complete black following closely behind me. They don't even bother to stop as I stare directly at them.

An intense gut feeling floods my stomach as I somehow know that something is wrong and that I need to get away, now.

I hastily turn back around, quickening my pace up the street. My pulse becomes the pounding of a drum in my ears, the footsteps behind me getting closer and closer.

And now I know for a fact that they aren't just going on a late night walk and minding their own business.

Of course they aren't, I am a twenty year old girl walking by myself in the middle of the night.

I make it a few more blocks, completely unsuccessful in losing the concealed person, before rapidly turning into an empty alleyway. Please, please just leave and give me a break for once in my life.

I'm scared and I hate it. I'm terrified and I hate that I have to be so familiar with the feeling.

I walk a little further into the alleyway that is dimly lit by a single flickering light that looks like it is going to give out any second. Me and you both.

I bring my trembling hands to my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing, sending a quick prayer to whoever is out there and will possibly listen to me that this person will just leave me alone.

What did I do in my past life to make me deserve all of this?

Maybe I am the reason some people have it so good. Why there are people with good families, a happy childhood, and people who love them. Because there are people like me to balance out the universe.

It would make me feel better at least if I knew that was true. I would know that all the shit I deal with everyday is at least working in someone else's favor and not just because the world hates me.

But who am I kidding, I don't help. I have never done anything good for anyone and everyone who knows me knows that's true. It's just who I am.

I don't even pity myself anymore because I've just accepted that I deserve every single thing that has ever happened to me.

"I hope for your own safety that you are a smart girl. Now hand over the bag." I hear a sinister voice ring out from the bottom of the alleyway, making my knees quake from beneath me.

I squint my eyes to try and make out the figure, but the darkness cloaks every inch of the passage. I take a shaky breath, weighing my options.

I accept defeat after a second, deciding to do nothing as I always do.

I slide my old backpack off of my shoulder, reluctance in every movement.

I purse my lips, secretly opening the back pocket of the bag. My gut screams at me not to do it, that it's not worth it, but I go against my rational judgment and quickly pull out one of my books.

I tuck it into the pocket of my hoodie, the familiar bind brushing against my scarred palms.

I'm risking my life for a copy of Romeo and Juliet.

It has always been my favorite book so when I received this copy as a gift a few years back, it became my everything. Every single margin is annotated with all of my most personal thoughts. Therefore, I'm not entirely fond of giving it up to some random man robbing me.

And on top of that, it's the most pathetic robbery to ever happen.

I don't bother zipping the backpack up before throwing it into the darkness towards the man, giving him exactly what he wants without any issues.

I hope he enjoys the tampons, retainers, random pieces of gum, and a few items of clothing.

My money is tucked in my bra so he won't be getting anything with any actual value.

I count to sixty in my head—just to be safe—before slowly releasing an unsteady breath. I assume it's been long enough that the man has to have fled by now, and taken my only bag of belongings with him.

The moment I take a step to leave, a shriek breaks past my lips as a figure comes charging out of the darkness.

Before I can even manage to react, the man wraps his large hand around my throat, cutting off my airway with overbearing strength. I desperately gasp for air, tears pricking my dark eyes.

I feel my feet slightly leave the ground, the man raising me higher as his grip tightens.

"What did you put into your fucking jacket?! Did you take the money you little bitch?!" He screams in my face viciously, small drops of saliva flinging onto my cheeks.

I claw at his dirt covered hands with a hoarse cry, desperately trying to get him to let go.

"Please," I choke out. I can feel his blood and skin under my nails, but it does nothing to get him to release me. "It was— a b-book."

"Don't try to lie to me!" He screams again, raising his other hand in anger.

I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the pain of his hand.

My body is going limp. I should just be done fighting.

Just as I give in to the temptation of death, a single gunshot echoes throughout the alley, the noise deafening.

My hearing goes in and out as my body hits the cold ground beneath me. I barely even notice that the man let me go, my mind trying to process everything that is happening.

My eyes fling open as violent coughs rack my body, gasping for the air that was taken from me. I struggle to focus my vision, my eyes locked on my trembling fingers that are coated in a light layer of blood.

I finally am able to breathe normally again, my head slowly turning to the side. I am scared to look, because I know what I am going to see. The man's lifeless eyes meet mine, the man who was just robbing me of my belongings, now laying dead on the ground.

There is nothing behind them, the memories and life and whatever brought him to this moment fading away into the nothingness that this world is. They are empty, so painfully empty.

Sometimes when I look into the mirror, my eyes look the same.

My lip quivers as crimson red steadily flows out from under his head, painting the sidewalk a ruby color beneath his hefty body. Uneasiness grasps my racing heart.

He was shot in the back of the head.

I finally look up, fear laced in my dull brown eyes. I have to know what other threat lurks in the light eating darkness.

That's when I see it.

My stomach drops to the floor, like a rock being thrown off the edge of a bottomless cliff.

Two piercingly blue eyes stand out from the ruthless darkness, locked unwaveringly on me. Nothing but malice is within them, a coldness like I have never known before locked inside.

No remorse, no warmth, no kindness.

This time it was not the cold that makes a chill run down my spine.

He found me.

Eros Vandare.

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