I fought to stay conscious, I slowly lost the ability to struggle. Things were sliding out of focus. Each time he pulled at my arm, my heart pulsed painfully. God damn it. Futile tears slid like ice down my cheeks. All of the shit I had been through, only to die like this. I wanted to be filled with rage, but instead I was starting to feel all peaceful. There was a light scuffing of shoes on the sidewalk to our left. Peter probably. It was right about then that I passed out.
I don’t know how long I was out, but I woke up when Viktor broke my back. I came to a screaming alertness. Somewhere in the fog of pain, I realized there were worse things than terrible motor control. Like, say, complete paralysis for example. I couldn’t feel my legs. I couldn’t feel much of anything with any certainty, but I had absolutely no sense of even having legs. I heard Peter nearby, his voice low and deadly. It was his vampire voice. I was in and out of consciousness for I don’t know how long. Events around me came and went like flashes, as I missed out on big chunks of time. At one point there was shouting and fighting. At another, there was fervent pleading. And then it was quiet and I was lying with my head in Peter’s lap.
“I’m so sorry Melody,” he whispered into the darkness. I wanted to see his face, but my eyes didn’t seem to be working right. He cradled my limp body in his arms as he bit me. I was dimly confused. Viktor was killing me. Why was Peter killing me? Then I was gone.
*****
I woke up in a panic, threw off the clinging blankets, and flung myself out of bed without thought. I was being attacked! Where was Viktor? I squinted in the bright light, and my eyes watered and burned. I took a deep breath, smelling dryer sheets and linen, and a hint of masculine cologne. The room was empty, and I relaxed a bit. Then I froze in sudden shock as I realized that I was standing six feet from where I’d been sleeping…and I’d gotten here under my own power. My legs felt week, and I was already feeling tired, but I had flung myself out of bed and across the room without hesitation. I lifted my hands and studied them in the bright light that suffused the room. Not a scratch. My palms had been shredded when I fell on the sidewalk, as I was fighting Viktor. I’m pretty sure he had broken my body like dry twigs. Had I dreamed that?
I made my way across the room with the shaky steps of a newborn fawn, and plopped down onto the edge of the bed. The room was too bright, though there was no light on and the curtains were pulled against the sun. I had no idea where I was. The place was filled with expensive, masculine furniture in deep, soothing tones. Not my bedroom. Not a room I had ever seen before. A tear leaked from my eye and I wiped it away, wondering absently why I was crying. There was a creaking sound and the shush of sliding fabric that I distantly identified as the sound of someone shifting in their chair. It was unbelievably loud. I shook my head in denial. No. I couldn’t be.
I called up the vague memories of Viktor and Cynthia’s argument. Viktor had said I would thank him for hurting me because he knew Peter wouldn’t let me die. I pushed up off the bed, heading for an open door that led into a bathroom. I walked there. It was slow, and I still felt weak. But I could walk.
I flipped on the light without thinking, gasping in pain as it flared to life like a floodlight, temporarily blinding me. Swearing, I turned it off. The person in the other room must have heard me, because hurried footsteps were headed this way. I made my way to the mirror over the sink. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head and studied my reflection. I could see myself just fine without the light.
I was wearing an unfamiliar t-shirt that hung to mid-thigh. I lifted the hem to find a pair of lacy underwear I had never seen before. Someone had obviously cleaned me up and dressed me. My hair hung over one shoulder in a thick