Tip of the Tongue [CMS Bk. 1 - BoyxBoy][Complete/Editing]

Chapter 10

Ren couldn't get Darrien off his mind as he walked the long trail home.

He wanted to push him from his thoughts, but his face and the strange way he burst into Ren's life wouldn't stop hovering above his head. It was like Mantel and the dead girl. They'd fallen into his lap without warning, a sharp contrast to the rest of his life, and now he was fumbling for a way to deal with it. Death, vampires, and a boy who was too nice to be anything but trouble. He couldn't begin to unravel his thoughts about the situation and he didn't think he would be until he'd slept the day away.

He was left wondering, though, about Darrien's words. He'd claimed vampires in Rexington basically didn't exist. Or rather they hid away from humans. Ren wanted to believe there was a good reason for that, that the vampires had chosen that life for themselves and hadn't been driven to isolation by humans.

It was hopeful of him and even selfish to protect himself from the true horrors of the world. But he knew a lot about evil and immorality.

Darrien hadn't showed it, but he probably thought all vampires were killers. The look on his face in class had been a cover. Ren could see through it. He could see what Darrien really thought.

Killers.

Mantel's face, his hardened red eyes glowing and his lips pulled back in a snarl, flashed in Ren's head. Blood—the dead girl's blood—coated his arms like a fitted glove. It dripped down his fingers, spilling to the forest floor below. Ren's breath hitched and he stopped in the middle of the path.

Mantel was there, looking right back at him.

He shook his head, fumbling for words, but nothing came out. He looked down at his feet and bit back a gasp.

The girl's hair flowed out in a fan arching over her head. She opened her eyes and she was looking right into his own. Her blood fell from her parted lips, from the large gash in her throat, and spilled into the river stretching out toward his feet.

He rubbed his eyes. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

When he opened them, he saw nothing but the empty path leading to his house.

It was another sign that he needed to get home and sleep until the next day. He didn't know how he managed to stay up so far. Sleep had been trying to pull him into its black embrace since the moment he stepped inside his house this morning. Last night didn't even seem possible now that he'd stepped away from the scene and could analyze it somewhat.

He hated that he'd done what he'd done. He had left his mom alone in the house because of some strange force. But he couldn't beat himself up too much. He couldn't control the thing that was slowly taking over his body.

He had no choice yet he still blamed his actions that had followed after.

The murder of the young girl couldn't have been prevented by his own hands. He would have never of made it in time to see the attacker or to fight them off her before they killed her. But the what-ifs were a dark cloud over his head.