Till Death Unites Us

Chapter 32

“Eternity, are you sure that this is a good idea?” Ivy asks for probably the millionth time. I sigh, letting go of the makeshift ponytail I had made of my hair. “Ivy, I can’t just stay here moping around the house. It’s not getting me anywhere, and I need to get back into the real world, you know? Maybe getting back into things will help me.”

 “It’s just that—“ She starts, “Are you sure you’re ready to see him?”

My eyes darken. “Well, I can’t just keep hiding in my bedroom. I will have to come out some time; what’s the difference between tomorrow and next week? It’s not like what he did will be any less real,” I mumble the last part, pulling my hair into a messy bun. “Umm…closure?” She muses before I turn around and sling my bag over my shoulder. Her eye brows shoot up as she stares at my bun. “What…the hell…is THAT?”

“It’s called a messy bun, duh.”

 She face-palms, “Dear god help me,” She mumbles into her hand, and shakes her head before grabbing her own bag and leading me out of my house. “Have you talked to Angel lately?”

I shake my head, “Not since she said she was going to talk to—“ I look down.

“The man responsible for the bloodline whose name shall not be spoken.” Ivy says solemnly, and I crack a small smile. “I’m really worried about her; This man just scares me.” I shudder.

“Oh, you mean you are scared of the man who beat his wife into a coma, pushed his daughter into committing suicide, and got his own son to commit arson and murder? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

 ***

My profound speech about moving on notwithstanding, I’m already dreading Biology class the minute I walk in and Mr. Honeycutt greets me with a curt nod, before handing me some worksheets. Luckily, Ivy has given me a copy of her notes so I have a general idea of what we are doing. Something to do with microorganisms, and how much of them are swirling in our food.

Starvation, here I come.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding upon seeing the empty seat. He is not here. I dump my bag on the floor and slide into my seat, thinking how much this feels like old times. Looks like I’m back to where I started, empty lab table and all. I’m even bleeding from visions all over again.

I am barely done writing my name on the sheet when I hear the creek of a chair being pulled back, then someone sitting next to me, his familiar presence calling on to me. Every cell, every bone, every nerve ending in my body is aching to be in his arms.

My hand clenches around the pen as I write the date and try not to look at him. I hear him clear his throat, then he reaches out to pull the other sheet from underneath the one I’m holding, “Eternity,” He whispers, and right at this moment, I want nothing more than to be reduced to the size of E. Coli. Think of how simple my life would be! And I would be able to get him sick too!

“Mr. Honeycutt said we should work on the sheet as partners.”

I clear my own throat before responding, “It’s, uh, it’s fine. I will work on this one; you work on the other,” I tell him, not once looking up from my sheet until the letters start to swirl together.

“I don’t know much about this, do you?”

 “It’s an open book.”

“It involves discussing the answer together.”

 “Then write your answer and I will gladly discuss it with you.”

 “Will you please just look at me?”