Without a Sound

When I felt that Mikey and Gerard were very close, Celia must have felt it too. “Come on, Adam,” she said. “We’re going to go on a drive with Daddy so that Uncle Mikey and Charlotte can talk alone.”

“But I still have my pajamas on,” Adam complained, pouting.

Celia rolled her eyes at me behind his back, and I giggled despite my intense fear for what would happen when she left. “We won’t get out of the car, okay?” she told him, losing patience. Mikey and Gerard were already almost coming in the house.

“Fine,” he said, and they left me to go to the front porch. I didn’t notice how much of a burden his beating heart was until he was out of the room. I felt slightly more relaxed now.

I heard Adam exclaim, “Uncle Mikey!” outside the front door. I didn’t have to listen very hard. I think in my years of darkness, my hearing must have improved.

Then I heard the voice I didn’t think I would ever hear again. It was more melodious than Celia’s flowing voice, Adam’s innocent voice, and Gerard’s articulate voice. This was the voice I wanted to hear all the time. It was Mikey’s voice.

“Hey, Adam,” he answered, although I heard that he was hiding some deep emotion.

“Okay Gerard,” Celia said briskly. “We’re going for a little drive. Is that okay, Mikey?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” he muttered. That hurt a little bit. He stood on the porch and waited for them to leave.

“Charlotte,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him. But I think he knew I heard him. Why else would he have said it?

I looked down at the table when he walked through the front door, through the family room, and into the kitchen. No, I didn’t want to look up. I was afraid that if I looked at him he would disappear, and I would be all alone.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

And I had to look. I had to see his face again. Even if he had disappeared a second afterwards, it would’ve been worth seeing his face one last time. But he didn’t disappear. He continued to hold out his hands helplessly and gaze deep into me with his sorrowful eyes.

He had tried to hide the fact that he had been crying. He’s washed off most of the tears, but I stills saw a few glistening wet spots hiding in the torn flesh in his cheek and jaw where I had bitten him.

“Come on,” he urged persuasively. “Come in the family room. We’ll sit on the couch, and I’ll tell you everything. No more secrets. No more anger. Does that sound good?”

It took me a few seconds for it to register in my brain: he was offering me everything I wanted. Everything I could’ve hoped for. I started to stand up gingerly, wincing at the pain it caused me to stand.

He saw this immediately, even though I barely cringed at all. I don’t even know how he saw it.

He looked at my feet and grimaced. “Oh, no,” he said to himself. He looked torn – angry and concerned all at the same time.

“Oh, Charlotte,” he said as he strode towards me. “You don’t have to walk when your feet are like that. I won’t let you. What have I done? It’s my fault. Everything is always my fault.”

Then just like in my wildest dreams, he lifted me off the floor again. He held me in his arms, something I thought I’d never get to experience again. I think he felt my muscles release their tension, because he smiled.

He carried me to the leather loveseat in the family room and set me down gently. Then he sat next to me.

“I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean what I said. I did’t want you to get out of my house. I want you to come back. I can’t believe how lucky I was that you found your way here. It could’ve taken me days to find you, and who know who – or what – might’ve found you first,” he babbled.

I just looked at him, my stupid eyes starting to get wet. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He wanted me to stay? I must’ve been dreaming.

“Anyways,” he continued, “I have to make you understand why I got so angry at you. I… I have good reasons. Well, they’re legitimate reasons in my opinion, but you can be the judge.”

He looked at me like he wanted me to answer. I nodded in bewilderment. What else could I do? Besides, I needed to know what was bothering him.

Taking a deep breath before starting, he said, “Twenty-seven years ago, I married Ivy. She was so perfect for me. I was perfect for her. We loved each other, and we married very young. But over time, our love did not deteriorate. It grew.”

I saw his eyes glaze over. He was remembering. I actually felt a little jealous. I don’t know why.

“Four years later,” he continued, “we had a daughter. I couldn’t believe how cute she was. I worshipped her, and she loved me. We named her Sylvia.”

He smiled at the memory, but then his smile faded and his expression darkened. “It was seventeen years ago. I had to have been the happiest man on earth. I truly did have everything I wanted. But I guess maybe I didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t meant to be that happy.”

Suddenly he got up and started pacing. When he spoke again, it was like I wasn’t there; like he was talking to himself. He was reliving it. “I was sleeping next to Ivy. We heard a crash and a scream in Sylvia’s room. So we got up and went to her immediately. There was a man… No. He was too cruel to be a man, too cruel even to be a vampire. He was a monster. A real-life monster.”

His face twisted in pain when he said, “Sylvia was already dead. He’d broken through the window and killed her right away, but he wasn’t merciful enough to kill the rest of us. If he had, I wouldn’t be so messed up. Even if he had only killed Sylvia and Ivy, it might not be so bad.”

“But he only killed Sylvia and bit me, changing me into a vampire. That takes time. I must’ve been lying unconscious on the floor for a day or two. I don’t know what possessed Ivy to paint us. She must’ve been overwhelmed with grief. She knew she couldn’t call the police. The thing that had attacked us wasn’t human. She understood that.”

“She was a talented artist, but she liked painting most. She said that when she painted, she could forget everything else and be transported to a different world. She must’ve been trying to escape.”

Now tears started pouring down his face. “When I woke up, I wasn’t in my right state of mind. I… All I could think about was how thirsty I was. All I could think about was quenching it. So when I felt her blood near me… I didn’t know what I’d done until it was over. But now I know it: I killed her. Ivy, my wife. I killed her!”

I felt his broken heart in my own chest. I was crying with him. He was still pacing, but I got up and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop and look at me.

I pulled him into a hug, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He needed this. At first he hesitated, but then he hugged me back.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. It came out so naturally, leaving my lips without any force or discomfort.

He froze. “Did you just say something?”