Page 47 of The Unraveling

“Daisy . . .” I swallow a knot seeing her so disheveled. Her soft hair needs to be brushed; her quivering body requires a tight hug.

“Isla—” My name rushes out of her as she scrambles across the room to me.

“Careful—!” I warn. “You’ll wake Victor, and you’re not supposed to be sneaking in here.”

She slows as she reaches the bedside, gently crawling on beside me and wrapping her arm around my waist.

“I love you, Isla,” she wails. “I love you so much.”

I turn my head gently against Victor’s chest so I can reach her clammy cheek for a kiss. “I love you, too, Daisy—my best friend.”

Her deep sob is tantamount to grief, her wet eyes flooding against my shoulder.

“Don’t be scared. It’ll be over soon,” I reassure her, understanding the despairing ache down to her bones so well. “Then you’ll be healed, just like me. We’ll be best friends forever. No pain. No sorrow. Finally, so full of life.”

Her grip tightens, and I kiss her slick cheek again, her salty tears on my tongue when I lick my dry lips. “You just have to hang on a little longer,” I say on an exhale. “Just a little bit longer.”

She nods against me before drawing away, watery eyes holding mine for a long moment. Her shoulders heave as ‌if she’s being strangled, and she chokes out, “You can go back to sleep now, Isla. I’m sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Rest now,” I breathe. “I’ll see you”—I draw in a shallow gasp—“in the evening.”

She nods, the motion dislodging budding tears from her eyes that streak her cheeks as she slowly crawls backward off the bed.

For one moment, clarity finds me with a rush of adrenaline as Dr. Smith and Daisy’s steps withdraw toward the bedroom door.

My voice lurches out of me. “Dr. Smith!”

He slowly rotates. Behind him, Daisy rushes out of sight in a flurry of sobs.

“Yes, dear Isla?” he murmurs.

I squeeze Victor’s body tighter, digging through my mind in an attempt to recall when exactly I must have cleaned him up and placed him here, then crawled in bed with him. “If what happened to Victor and Julian happens to me, can you please complete Daisy’s treatment? She means the world to me.”

He swallows and nods. “I promise.”

Tears well in my eyes. “Thank you. Please, just . . .” I sigh. “Please give me a few minutes alone with Victor and I’ll come out to be with her. She needs me.”

Dr. Smith’s eyes lower to the floor as he steps from the room, doorknob in hand. “Of course, but please don’t rush yourself. Take all the time you need.”

I manage a weak nod. The door clicks closed.

My eyes threaten to slide shut, but I fight with them to stay open. I spot the IV stand at the bedside and let myself relax against Dr. Todd, knowing his treatment will push this weakness—this agony that has made a home in my marrow—aside soon. Closing my eyes at last, I sigh against him and imagine that I might be able to hear his quiet heartbeat once I have vampiric hearing like his.

I focus on the sensation of his cool blood rushing through me, my heart pushing it through my veins as it pulses in my ears. The bed is as soft as a cloud around me with Dr. Todd’s cool chest beneath my hot cheek. My body is so laden with the familiar euphoria of his blood that the little smile on my lips is relentless. It’s crisp and soft like a spring wind sweeping through me, more comforting and long-lasting than any of the painkillers my oncologist could ever offer me.

“I love you, Victor,” I practice on a sigh of relief.

The contrast of my current life with the one I lived a mere two weeks ago—before meeting Dr. Todd—compounds the ache of peace coating my veins. To think I was once so terrified of death, and now I take the very treatments that help me prepare for it.

Immortality is a sweet promise, but it’s much richer knowing Dr. Todd’s at my side. Knowing he wanted me to be close for feedings helped me make the choice—to be wanted and needed for so long would be like a built-in friend for all time—but falling in love with him made me reclassify my illness as a necessary dark twist of fate.

I exhale a breath from the deepest parts of me and slowly begin to give in to the serene tug of a euphoric slumber.

The ache retreats with the distinct sounds of the house. The door shifts in the frame ever so slightly like it does when the window is cracked. A sequence of creaks travels across the floor toward the bed, which I attribute to the old house adjusting against the wind. Victor’s shallow, cold breath whooshes against the peace-numb flesh of my face like he’s rousing.

My lips twitch with a small smile.

I want to tell him a thousand times that I love him, to risk uttering it so close to him waking up as if I can trick him into believing his sleepy response is his own initiation, but the effects of my treatment have pinned me to the bed.