After the class Elize rushed back to her apartment. She was trying to wrap her head around the fact that his scent was dominating her senses everywhere she went. Unwilling to reconnect or associate with Caleb, she recoiled every time. She was not able to stop thinking about him. She could never forgive him. It was his irresponsibility and pure selfishness that changed her life significantly.
On the way back to her apartment, her phone buzzed.
"You must come immediately." It was Dr. McCarthy. "Your father has gone into septic shock and he won't last long!" He sounded helpless.
And instead of going home, Elize rushed to the hospital. She could have run five miles easily, but for the sake of sanity in front of others, she took a bus to the hospital. When she reached there, the nurses and doctors were removing his life support machine and her brother was standing beside him. His eyes met hers and he bared his lips daring her to come near their father. So, Elize stood at the other end of the glass window as she watched the doctors and nurses taking out the life support machines from her father's already fragile veins. He looked so wilted, so still, so dead… She didn't know when, but the tears that stung her now found their way out. Her facial expressions slackened, hands shook and she struggled to find her breath. She leaned on the wall as her knees became wobbly. The tightness in her chest was so raw and potent that it cut her deeply. She didn't get the last chance to bid him a goodbye. Her father died because of her. Could she ever forget that? She was the cause of his death.
"Elize!" Dr. McCarthy's voice came from behind. She whirled to look at him and through her blurry vision, she found him peering at her through his glasses. "Come in, child," said the man who was also her father's close friend. He knew what was happening on the inside but he didn't know of the rift between the siblings. Her lips wobbled as she tried to make an excuse, but all that came out was a wail. She shook her head and then began to run. She ran out of the hospital, into the streets, into the dark alleys. She ran to stop her agony. She wanted to tire as much as she could. And there was only one thing in her mind—she couldn't save her father.
Elize must have run for hours before she finally came back to her apartment. When she returned, she realized that it was close to dawn. And that familiar scent was stifling her.
---
Vigil was supposed to take place at their family home. Elize wasn't invited. Her brother had sent her a message that she shouldn't even bother to attend it.
That evening, Elize wore her black pants and black shirt over which she draped a faded gray shawl she had picked from a second-hand shop. She zipped her weathered boots and walked all the way to her home. She had to see her father… one last time. And then— and then she decided she would leave this town forever. The one thing, the one person who tethered her to this place, her father, was no more. She wanted to fade into oblivion too and die, if death ever came to her…
When she reached home, she saw a wreath below the dim yellow lights of the porch. It was here that she had told her father what had happened to her. Suppressing a lump that threatened to choke her, Elize noticed that the friends and family had already gathered together. She took a deep breath and turned the knob of the door. The pace was packed and Elize realized how well-loved her father was in the community.
No one really took notice of her. She removed her shawl, hung it over on the hat stand on the side and walked to where Patrick was lying in his coffin. She went to stand right in front of the coffin and stood there, watching him. She trudged to the other side and brushed her hand over the edge of the oak coffer. "Papa… I am sorry…" she whispered. "I should have—"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Nessa growled under the breath, behind her. "We asked you not to come. Get out, right now, you filth!"
But Elize didn't move. A shaky breath escaped from her mouth. A sharp object pressed on her back—a pocket knife.
"Get moving now," Nessa snarled as she bowed to a lady who had come to pay her respects to Patrick. All she could see was how Nessa was consoling her sister-in-law. "Get moving, bitch," she nudged her with the knife. When Elize still didn't move she said, "Will you die if I poke this knife in your flesh? Huh, vampire?" And she poked it, deep.
Elize shuddered, but she kept still. Nessa took the knife out and poked it at another place. "Your blood is so black," she scoffed. "It blends with your clothes and your personality."
Another stab.
Another.
And another.
Elize closed her hands into tight fists as she bore the sharp pain, as her blood soaked her shirt. Owen came to stand in front of them. In a low voice he snarled, "If you don't get out now, I will announce to the people out here what you are."
Elize bit her bottom lip. Disregarding Owen's warning, she bent down over the edge of the coffin and pressed a kiss to her father's forehead. Drops of her tears fell on his face. "I am sorry father," she murmured and pressed another kiss. She straightened only to feel yet another jab next to her spine. She contained all the pain in her sob and then slowly left. Nobody was bothered at the tiny drops of blood that trailed her path to the hat stand. Nessa had dropped her hankey to the ground, concealed it beneath her shoe and wiped the trail efficiently as if she had been practicing it all this time.
Elize picked up her shawl and walked out of the house. Once she was in the shadows, she wrapped it around her and her blood stained it with muted crimson. Pain… The pain screamed from her wounds nearly blacking out her vision. She staggered. When all at once invisible hands wrapped around her waist.