Love Sucks

Innocent Blood - Epilogue

Of course, her dad was a completely different issue. Neither of them had forgotten the incident at the club that one eventful night - however long ago that may have seemed. But Abigail refused to bring up the subject with her mother's unhealthy state, and neither did her dad - so the problem remained unresolved.

She felt her hand down the wall as she walked, the familiarity was a relief after everything she'd been through. The apartment was cramped and tiny but it was easy to map out, and Abbi knew she'd never get lost.

As she moved into the living area, barely seeing the outline of the single sofa and assorted chairs set around the room, Abigail tried calming her heartbeat, which still raced like a hummingbird's.

The nightmares hadn't stopped since the night of Lucifer's vanishing. She thought of him when she wasn't thinking of Nathaniel, or Patten, or Evie. And then every night when she closed her eyes, he was there. Perhaps if she busied herself with getting back in the routine of a normal life, then his ghost would go away, but Abbi doubted such.

Lucifer hadn't gone away, and she didn't think he ever would.

So until then, Abigail was stuck shooting out of bed at eleven and forcing down four glasses of ice water, every night.

Abbi sighed as she entered the kitchen, going almost mechnically to the cupboards where her family kept the glasses. Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Abbi, out of habit now more than anything jumped, nearly dropping the glass in the process.

She turned quickly, her eyes wide, as she met Evangeline's curious stare.

Abigail couldn't help but feel torn over how different the once bright and beautiful girl looked. She wore a disinterested expression, even though her flaky eyes spoke otherwise. Her hair seemed more dull, her skin more peakid, and her lips set into a pout. But underneath even that, something had changed. Evie wasn't perky, and she certainly wasn't delighted at the world.

"Nightmares again, Abigail?" The girl said in a monotone.

Abbi nodded quickly, turning back around to fill her glass with tap-water. "They're still the same thing," she declared.

"Lucifer?"

Abigail bit the inside of her cheek, switching the water off. Holding the cup up seemed difficult; her hands were visibly shaking, and her lips quivered.

"Thought so," Evie said nonchalantly, getting all the information she needed by just a reaction. "What about Nathaniel? Do you dream of him?"

The name put a skip in her heartbeat.

Nathaniel. Truthfully, Abbi had tried her best to keep him from her mind. She didn't want to see the look on his face when she told him not to follow her. And she certainly didn't want to see him in her dreams, but as invetible as their romance, he was there.

Abigail had let two days pass before she contacted him. And even then, it wasn't direct contact. She'd wrote a formal-like letter addressed to him, then gave it to Evangeline to give to Nathaniel.

Childish, really, but Abbi knew that her resolve would immediately break if she were to see him again.

Truth be told, Abigail was punishing herself. Whether it was from guilt that had crushed and defeated her, or she was just too cowardly to face Nate after everything that had happened between them, she wasn't sure. But one thing Abigail was positive of, was that Nathaniel Drake wasn't going anywhere - not at least, in her head. He would always haunt her; those eyes, that voice.

But she wouldn't allow herself to have happiness while Evangeline suffered without Patten, or the family members of all those people burned alive and trapped in the manor. Abigail didn't want to be selfish.

"No." She said firmly, taking a small sip of the water. "I haven't thought about him at all."

******

Revenge was the desire to inflict pain on those who'd caused sufferage; it was a match to the flame, igniting retribution beneath the surface of such innocent acts.

Innocent, he scoffed; there was nothing innocent about it.

Stripped of his name, of his title, the man walked the shadows with a scowl twisting his features. Innocence and Insolence were two very different qualities. There was a difference between the two, a very fine line.

Insolence was not to be tolerated. Insolence was a weakness, but so was innocence.

And he'd grown tired of playing insolent games with the innocent.

The summer night made the air thick with humidity and the smell of the girl's pulse that much stronger. She walked alone, her arms crossed in front of her chest. The wind blew against her face, therefore making her scent crash against him.

He felt disgust toward the puny human.

The fight to control his rage proved difficult; it took his strength in trying to prevent himself from ripping the girl to pieces. But no, that would be careless, and one mustn't be too brash.

Revenge was to be taken slowly, sweetly; it was meant to be savored.

And savor it, he would. She would pay for the humiliation she caused, she would kill for the chance to take back those mistakes.

He hummed a tune to himself as he came closer to the girl, his prey, his victim. As he watched the dark swish of her hair, he thought to himself: another one of the innocent must die for the insolent.

And die she would.

******

THE END.