Page 25 of A Touch of Darkness

I’m not sure how much longer it is until they finally do. Time doesn’t exist. Not right now.

My breathing grows ragged, my chest heaving with the force of it. Tears blur my vision, hot and unrelenting, and I claw at my hair, at my skin, trying to keep myself from falling apart. But it’s no use.

I break.

Another raucous sound escapes me—low and guttural, an animalistic wail that doesn’t even sound human. It rips through the dorm, bouncing off the walls, ricocheting back and forth, filling the space with my grief, my disbelief, my utter agony. My body curls in on itself involuntarily, and I rock back and forth.

“No, no, no,” I whisper between gasps, the words spilling out in a mantra of denial. My hands clutch at the hem of my shirt, my nails digging into the fabric, breaking my skin and shredding my abdomen to the point blood flows freely down my stomach. “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Lara…” Her name is a broken plea on my lips. “Lara!” I scream over and over and over again until my throat goes raw, until I taste copper on my tongue, until her name doesn’t even feel real spilling from my lips.

Until nothing feels real at all.

This is my life now.

Lara is gone, and I am alone.

I failed her.

The silence after the officers leave is ear-piercing. It presses down on me, infiltrating my chest, suffocating, filling every corner of the room with the heavy burden of Lara’s absence. I sit on the floor, unable to move, knees drawn to my chest, my breath shaky and uneven. My body feels numb, hollow, as if the news of her death has stripped me of everything but this raw, aching grief.

I should move. I should get up, do something, anything. But I can’t. The heaviness of it all pins me to the ground, and all I can do is sit here, tears streaking down my face, my mind replaying the officers’ words over and over again.Found in the woods. Deceased. Gone.

A faint knock at the door drags me from the haze. It’s soft, almost hesitant, but even that sound feels like too much.

I don’t move. I don’t care.

But the knock comes again, louder this time, more insistent.

It brings me back to 3:14 a.m., when the officers were practically beating down the door. My mind flashes to the alarm clock, the time, peeling my eyes open and fumbling to the door. To their faces as they broke the news.

More knocking. They come faster now.

“Fuck off!” I scream, not giving a single shit who is behind the door. It isn’t Lara, so it doesn’t matter.

Whoever it is doesn’t take the hint. They continue knocking and each time their fist connects with the door it’s a stark reminder that everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same again. That I can no longer pretend she’s somewhere and on her way home to me.

“Go away!” I rasp, forcing myself to stand on unsteady legs. My fists ache, and I see a chunk of my own hair on the floor, stark against the dull carpet.

The knocking doesn’t stop—no pause, no hesitation. Anger flares, a red-hot pulse under my skin. I stomp to the door, yank it open, ready to snap—but the words die in my throat when I see Isabel.

She stands there, her dark eyes fixed on me with what looks like determination… and maybe pity.

“You,” I growl, my voice cracking from my sorrow. I move to slam the door in her face, but she presses back with surprising strength.

“Wait,” she urges, her tone calm yet unyielding. “Sylvie, please. I know you don’t want to see me right now, but you need to hear what I have to say.”

“I don’t need anything from you, Isabel.” I shove at the door again, but it doesn’t budge. “Leave. Me. Alone. I can’t deal with your cryptic bullshit.”

“This isn’t about me.” She slips past the threshold despite my protests, knocking me off balance. Her presence slithers into the room, cold as a draft. “It’s about your sister.”

Her words slice right through my anger. I freeze, dread coiling in my gut. “What about her?” My voice quivers, raw and jagged. “What about Lara?”

Isabel closes the door behind her and turns to face me. Her expression is oddly controlled, like she’s delivering bad news she’s rehearsed a dozen times. “I came to tell you the truth about what happened to Lara.”

My heart lurches. “What are you talking about?” My head pounds, and I just want to bury myself in my blankets and forget the world exists.

“She didn’t simply die,” Isabel says softly. “She was murdered.” She hesitates, her eyes flicking over me as if pausing for show. “By vampires.”

The room spins. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I’m breathing. “That’s impossible. The police never mentioned anything like?—”

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