Page 11 of Losing The Vampire King

From the look on her face, I can tell that she feels offended. She probably took it as her not being enough, not doing enough to help me, when that’s not what I meant.

“It’s not safe to go home,” she suddenly tells me, sounding worried.

“What do you mean?” I ask, intrigued. We haven’t spoken of home yet, wherever that is. Maybe now would be a good time to open that can of worms.

“Don’t you think I would have taken you home already if it were safe to do so?” she asks, all incredulous. “Do you think I like being stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, with a man who can’t remember me?”

She shakes her head at me, then turns away. She isn’t crying. At least, I don’t think so. She just refuses to look in my direction, which I can understand.

“Why isn’t it safe to go home, Gala?” I ask again.

She remains silent for a few moments longer, then she continues, turning her face towards me. “When you were attacked, that was just a part of their plan.”

“Whose plan?”

“The vampires,” she explains. “They attacked us. They killed so many of our kind, leaving even more for dead. I knew I couldn’t go back there with you. I couldn’t let them finish what they started. That is why I brought you here, and I’ve been keeping us safe and hidden from the vampires all this time.”

From the sound of her voice, I could tell that she expected me to be more grateful, more understanding, more sympathetic. I immediately feel a pang of guilt, but I don’t let it show. It’s true. She saved my life. She kept me safe. She healed me. And I’m suspicious about everything she does. No wonder she sounds upset.

“Maybe it’s safe to go back now,” I urge. “Maybe we could just go back and check the area, see if the vampires are still there.”

“I’ve been in contact with a few skin walkers who remained in town, hiding,” she reveals. “There are less vampires there now, but we can’t just waltz back in there and reclaim our home. We need to make a plan, a good plan. I need you to be completely healed for that. I need you to remember everything, to remember how much they’ve hurt you, how much they’ve hurt us. I need you to utilize that pain and that anger, so we can get our home back. Only then can we go back.”

She pauses, looking at me sadly. She approaches me, caressing my cheek. This time, I don’t pull away, but her touch feels foreign. I still don’t remember anything about her. If that love I felt for her is somewhere inside of me, shouldn’t it have surfaced by now?

I gaze deeply into her eyes. I wrack my brain, trying to remember. Have we roamed these woods together? Do we have a special place that belongs solely to us?

A special place… The moment those words form inside my mind, I see a lake. I don’t know where it is or what it’s called, but I see it. I recognize it. I know it belongs to me and my memory. I know I’ve spent much time there. Have I spent that time there alone? Was I with someone?

Suddenly, her hand on my elbow brings me back to the present moment. I look at her, trying to see if her touch will evoke anything. I pray that it does. I want to remember something, anything, even if it’s something that I won’t like. At this point, I’m not being picky. I just want to escape the fog of my own mind and find something familiar, something that will clarify even the smallest part of my life.

Only, none of this happens. When she touches me, I feel like a stranger has accidentally elbowed me on the street, then our eyes locked only for her to quickly say she’s sorry, then disappear never to be seen again. This would evoke no emotion in me. That is how I feel now, with her hand on my elbow, gently trying to reassure me of something I am slowly losing all hope for.

“I know I am nothing but a stranger to you right now,” she says, as if able to read my mind. “I know that it is difficult to trust me but believe me when I say that your safety is of the utmost concern for me. I will take you back home, you have my word, but only when it is safe for us to do so. In the meantime, please try to understand that we have to stay here. I can’t risk losing you again. I just can’t…”

This time, I pull her close to me and hug her. She hugs me back, burying her face into my chest. It is a quiet, intimate moment, which once again, I hoped would evoke something. But I feel like I’m hugging someone I’m meeting for the first time.

Suddenly, I feel a knot tightening inside my stomach. It quickly starts to make me nauseous. I feel dizzy, disoriented. I try to hold onto her, but the closer I pull her to me, the worse I feel.

Finally, I release her from my grip, and several moments later, that horrible feeling of nausea is gone.

“Are you alright?” she asks, looking concerned.

“Yeah,” I nod, inhaling deeply, wondering what could have caused that sudden sensation. “It’s probably just the result of being in that cabin for such a long time, and barely going out.”

Unexpectedly, her brows furrow. She takes a step back from me, her face enraged. This only lasts for a moment, then she is back to her calm self. In fact, all this happened so quickly that I’m questioning whether I saw it for real, or if it was just a figment of my imagination, where my mind is creating scenarios that don’t exist to justify my doubt in this woman who has so far, done nothing but be loving and caring with me. Once again, I feel horrible.

“I swear, you’re like a little child sometimes,” she says, with a heavy sigh. “It’s difficult to talk to you.”

“That’s news to me,” I smile, trying to make her feel better. It works, because she smiles back.

I want to get lost in that smile. I want to care about her the way she obviously cares about me, but all I can think about is the woman from my dreams. All I want is to gaze at her eyes and have her kiss me like she did. Guilt is eating me alive, but there is nothing I can do to control my own thoughts. It’s like they have a life of their own.

Maybe you should listen to your mind, instead of trying to make sense of reality outside of yourself, that voice inside of me says something very clever this time. I have to admit that the voice is right. I keep trying to fit pieces together, but they are pieces given to me by someone else.

My memories are gone, but they haven’t disappeared from my mind. They are merely buried deep down. I need to find a way to make them come to the surface. Every time my thoughts come to me with a strange idea, I dismiss it. I shouldn’t do that. I should take everything into consideration, no matter how incredulous it might sound at first. That is the only way I might be able to find my own identity again and reclaim my life.

“I really appreciate everything you are doing for me,” I say, trying to sound as heartfelt as possible. “I’m just… impatient.”

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