Page 22 of Thanatos' Craving

All I saw was the regret in my life. The things I didn’t do, the things I didn’t have the courage to step forward and take part in. I didn’t try out for sports, go to school dances, or ask out the cute guy at the coffeehouse.

I didn’t do the big audition.

Iblended in.

Played it safe, so I didn’t get rejected.

As I watched the hulking guard’s heavy footsteps resonating against the cold, damp floor, his menacing gaze fixed on me, theweight of his threat consumed my thoughts. In that moment, a surge of regret washed over me, accompanied by a bitter taste of unfulfilled potential. The vivid images of all the untapped possibilities, the uncharted paths I could have taken, and the wonderful experiences I could have embraced flooded my mind.

I could have laughed, seen, felt, ran, and explored. Let go of the longing.I mean, I’d never even fallen in love. Nearly thirty years old and I had never in my life told a man I loved them.

Because I couldn’t keep them, didn’t know if they even wanted to. Hell, I couldn’t even get past the first few dates. Too scared, too worried about rejection and what it might lead to.

I played it safe.

I had held back for so long; I didn’t know what it was like to be an adventurist. I envied so many who could throw themselves into a crowd and take over with a joke, a smile, a laugh.

Regret, disappointment.

I could have done so much more. I didn’tlive.

At least I helped a few in my time, Amanda being the turning point. I’d had no one rely on me, and maybe that is what it was, but that tiny push helped me get those women out.

The rest of the women? Not so much. How long did I let myself just follow like a blind little sheep and wait until the butcher came for me? What more could I have done if I had acted earlier?

Guilt churned in my gut.

I could have died sooner, but at least more could have escaped.

I didn't see my life flashing before my eyes because I hadn’t done enough, explored enough, had enough of a life worth having a rewind.

Or it could be the fact I killed a guy.

But that was in self-defense!

Surely, they don’t count that.

I groaned and felt the gentle touch of my hand gliding over my stomach. The fabric that draped over it is incredibly soft, caressing my skin. Surprisingly, it remains untouched by any stains or dampness from my blood. Strangely, I don’t sense any pain. I actually feel rested and not like someone has stabbed and punched me twice in the gut.

My eyes fluttered open and above me isn’t a dumpster, tall buildings, and a clouded sky but dark drapes that meet at the ceiling and flow beautifully downward to wrap around a large four-poster bed I’m lying in. The comforter is a dark, silky crimson. My hands, calloused from gripping a stripper pole, pick at the fabric and I pull back, afraid to damage it further.

When I sat up, I took in the rest of the room. It’s dark, the only light being candelabras filled with ivory and crimson colored candle sticks casting shadows around the walls. Instead of being transported to the bowels of hell, I feel like I've stepped into Bram Stoker's Dracula.

The furniture is dark cherry red, and the embellishment is fancier than I have ever seen. Hints of gold fluttered in the light around the handles of the drawers. To my right, the nightstand held books, while the left one next to me contains gauze, stitching, and other medical equipment.

I touched my body which is draped in a white gown. It cinched at the wrists, with a high collar, and when I look under the sheets, it’s fairly long.

“I really got transported back in time,” I muttered to myself.

That was the only logical thing that could have happened.

I twisted my body, ready to get out of the bed, but I felt a twinge of pain. I groaned louder this time, and someone immediately threw open a curtain, causing me to gasp in shock.

A mysterious figure, shrouded in a cloak as black as night, glided into the room. The whisper of his wings echoed in the silence, sending shivers down my spine. His imposing auracommanded every inch of the space, suffocating me with its weight. I sank into the bed, feeling a sharp pang in my gut, but I refused to let my gaze waver from the hood obscuring his face.

As if I woke from a dream, I remembered who this cloaked figure was. The dark angel that came to me in the alley.

My hand went to my mouth to cover my gasp. I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I was in awe of this person. He wasn’t a creature or a monster. I mean, he spoke. That was what the difference was, right? If they could talk to you, they weren’t a beast or an animal. They had thoughts and feelings, so I could talk to them.

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