Shattered Hope * Book 2, free, on going *

4. How Not to Greet a Friend

Sally-Anne

Year: 1984, 29th May, Tuesday, 4.53 PM, P.S.T, Spring.

‘HUNT’

The demand was strong, irresistible. The instant Zatiheir took that small step I was overwhelmed with the need. Possessed by the primal I flash stepped without hesitation. Consumed by the urge to snare my prey, my arms were around her before another thought could even cross my mind. There was nothing but the base instinct to capture and feed. Zatiheir's hummingbird heart didn't even have time to start singing in another tempo before my lips were against the heat of her tender flesh and my teeth were buried deep.

I purred in delight like the predator I was as Zatiheir's ferociously hot blood was supped up my fangs. The bright notes of strawberry fields, sunshine and freedom lit up my mouth. At this precise time I couldn't think beyond the immense satisfaction of having collared my prey. I drank for victory and nothing else.

It was glorious.

"Sally-Anne." A deep familiar voice called out. "Sally-Anne, you need to stop."

Stop? Why would I stop? This was my prey. I claimed it.

"Zatiheir is your friend." The voice tried.

I growled against her skin.

"Why don't you come to me instead?" The voice whispered seductively against my shoulder. Hands traversed the naked expanse of my back making me groan at the delicious sparks spreading across my skin.

'Mine.' I declared happily turning away from Zatiheir straight into Roman's arms. They were wide, waiting to embrace me and his beautiful eyes held nothing but love for me. I sought the crook of his neck and bit; the sensation more delectable than any that had come before. I took one small sip just to fill my mouth with his taste and then just held my fangs in place. The feeling of his blood whooshing past a simple comfort. Roman sighed contentedly beneath my body.

That was nice.

The shaky breath that sounded behind me; that was not. In that instant my small slice of peace was destroyed. I removed my teeth from Roman's neck and tried to pull away. I needed space. All the space but he wouldn't let go. His strong arms held me tightly as I tried to breathe but my lungs were stuck in my chest.

"Just try and relax, deep breath. This is real, you're safe, no one is mad." Roman said soothingly as I tried desperately to swallow air that I didn't need. "Zatiheir would you please bring the knife and the other thing over for Sally-Anne?"

"Of course." Zatiheir, all long legs, blonde hair and a sage green pastel suit with shoulder pads just as I remembered her, took long strides over to where I'd dropped the two knives. Taking no notice of how one was coated in my blood she picked both up and pressed them into my waiting hands.

Finally I could breathe.

Panting, gasping, fighting the images that were trying to surface in my mind I sank to the floor. Roman came with me, holding me all the way.

"I'm here. I'm with you, I'm with you Sally-Anne." Roman's voice was so soft and kind. I couldn't take it. The sobs came harder and Guy's voice rattled in my head.

I was a monster.

I was disgusting.

I deserved to die.

A river of blood filled my mind. It raged and roared; a thick bubbling, frothing liquid until it was a waterfall pouring from my mouth but as a scream. I was back in that room covered in blood. The blood that smelled so strange.

I couldn't go back there. The things he made me do… I could feel my mind beginning to splinter and fragment like it had so many times under his watchful stormy eyes. After everytime he brought me back. The first things I'd see would be those blue grey eyes, crinkled in the corners as if my pain, my terror was the most amusing thing in the world.

Guy was dead. There would be no one to bring me back, to pick the memories out of my mind like they were slithers of broken glass. I needed to save myself. Before it was too late and I gave in entirely. Attacking Zatiheir was a small consequence compared to what I knew I was capable of. The horrors, the atrocities I'd committed on Guy's command were what I feared. I hoped it was his command - in the end I hadn't been able to tell.

I clamoured for my Tick. Pulling on both Zatiheir and Roman's feelings I tried to calm myself but it wasn't enough to still my mind.

"Aghhhhh." I moaned out loud, feeling cluttered inside rather than finding the peace I so desperately needed.

"What do you need, Sally-Anne? Tell me, please tell me. I'll help you." Roman begged. There were tears in his voice and I didn't understand.

"Tt,ta-ke iit." I barely managed the words.

"Of course. I'm ready." He declared.

I emptied myself of all emotions. Scooped them up and dumped them on him so I could be a void. A nothingness. My mind settled and the river of blood receded, slinking back to the depths from which it had risen.

I got up and retrieved the small trash can for Roman, remembering how he threw up last time. It made me ponder if all my emotions really were gone. Why else would I care?

Settling back on the floor, completely flat and still completely naked, I placed the knives on my stomach so my hands were free. When I offered a hand, Zatiheir and Roman both accepted. That touch - that connection helped.

"This is real." I told the room, needing to hear the words. "He broke me. The things he did. The things he had me do. The depravity of that man. I had no idea there could be such cruelty. Naive. I was naive and stupid." My words were devoid of emotion just as I was but they were true.

"You're not broken, you're strong Sally-Anne or you wouldn't be fighting it." Zatiheir squeezed my hand. Such kindness when only a few moments ago I'd been trying to crush her into my mouth and take every drop circling her steaming hot veins. I hadn't even been thirsty because I'd already gorged on Roman. It had all been for the hunt, to satisfy the predator that lurked so close to the surface.

Roman wretched and vomited. It was time to take it back but not like on the plane. Not all at once or we would be right back to Sally-Anne being a sobbing uncontrolled volatile mess.

With a deep breath I began pulling some of my emotion back. I scraped thin layers off the stack, smoothing them out and making sure they were calm before I took the next thin sheet. It was like how I layered sounds so that they weren’t overwhelming. One piece at a time until I was whole. Well not whole, that was the wrong word because I was still so unbelievably broken. I suppose I’d just taken back all my pieces and put them in an order that was less… less jagged.

"Am I in trouble." I asked, still on the floor.

"No, no of course not sweetheart." Roman replied after vomiting for about the 5th time.

I flinched, he noticed.

"My apologies Sally-Anne I shan't do it again." He said, a rushed but heartfelt apology.

"Do what?" Zatiheir asked, completely baffled. I couldn’t believe she was still here holding my hand after what I’d done.

"Call her by anything other than her name." The sadness in Roman’s voice almost set me off again.

"Ahh I see." Zatiheir nodded but I wondered if she really did understand. I had been Doll, Bethany, pet and every derogatory curse word under the sun. Taking my identity had made me smaller.

"He took a lot." I told them both in a small voice. "I don't mind just 'Sally' though my mother called me that." It felt nice to share something about myself, a kinder memory. I hoped it would help me find myself again

"Ma.." Zatiheir started.

"Please Zatiheir, just Roman. The title is quite unnecessary." He interrupted her. Turning to me he looked deeply into my eyes. "I never asked Zatiheir to call me in that way, it isn't expected of her I promise. Simply it is a sign of respect and there is a little cultural influence there too." His smile was a little sad, his eyes begging.

I nodded feeling drained.

“Roman? Cc-ould…’ Suddenly I felt embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like a blush would give that away but the start of my sentence was hanging in the air and he was looking at me expectantly. “Sorry, I’m embarrassed.”

I looked away from his sympathetic gaze and took a deep breath. The weight of the two knives on my stomach, rising and falling with the breath, were a comfort. Anxious, self-degrading thoughts were threatening to rise up. There were little whispers building in the back of my mind. I shouldn’t ask anything of Roman, he owed me nothing and I deserved less than nothing.

“Sally.” He said, testing my shortened name. “There is no need to be self-conscious. Please say whatever you need to. After all, I thought we agreed this house was big enough for you and all your questions; rude or embarrassing.” He tried to tease. I appreciated him trying to lighten the mood a little but it fell flat.

“I’m tired.” I stated. “Could we go lie down? Together? I don’t want to be alone.” I avoided his eyes and Zatiheir’s, fearing that despite all the kind words they would judge me.