Possessed hearts - стр. 21
And in that silence a horrible scary voice screams, shrieks, and squeals, keeping my thoughts at bay. I can't get rid of them. Every time I wish I could just escape reality, even for a second, it bursts in on me, unwelcome, unloved. I hate it. The eternal uninvited guest before whom anyone would rush to close their doors and keep her off their doorstep. But this bitch kicks down the door, breaks the locks and bursts in, filling the entire space with her. She's in my head. She whispers to me that I'm miserable. She humiliates me. Me as a person. Me as a woman. Me as a being with the highest intelligence on this damn planet.
I love to live. But Life hates me and makes my existence an eternal hell. The Hell that people believe in. But people only get it when they die. I'm punished while I'm alive. For eight years I've lived in a ravenous, raging flame. I feel no physical pain. It's the flame that destroys me morally. And my soul… If I ever had one, it's gone now. It's burned away. Crumbled. I'm burning and crumbling.
I shouldn't have come. That day.
Prague. Mariszka's wedding. I walk into the huge, semi-dark cathedral of St Paul and St Peter. The guests. Perfect creatures. Vampires, like me.
A vampire wedding. An excuse to pull out the best of my wardrobe. My favourite. I'm wearing my short red dress. Oh, I love it. My hair is loose and falls loosely to my waist, shamefully covering the beauty of the nakedness of my back that the deep neckline of the dress affords. Red shoes. I leisurely take a seat in the front row of pews, next to Martin. Everyone is beautiful. Gods and goddesses on earth. Mum asks Misha if she's met Cedric. Cedric himself is standing next to the altar, next to the pastor. God, he's majestic. But his face is aloof, his eyes downcast. He's not here. He's somewhere far away. Misha replies to her mother that she has no wish to meet this "sullen type", and her mother immediately shushes her, then apologises half-heartedly to the Morgans and the guests for her youngest daughter's inappropriate behaviour. Markus takes his seat with a quick step. He's excited and doesn't hide it. Martin jokingly tells me that whoever made my dress must have skimped on fabric, but the deafening sound of the organ nullifies all conversation and fills the cathedral. The guests stand up. Mariszka, under the arm of our father, sails down the aisle. Everything is so sweet that I want to smile sarcastically and roll my eyes, but I restrain myself. I don't take my eyes off Cedric…
– Is my beautiful neighbour bored?
My playboy roommate's voice made me wince.
– You know, Troy, I'll be sure to order an impenetrable blacktop for my balcony so you don't poke your nose into my territory again," I said in a bored tone and took a sip from my glass of blood. Troy wouldn't understand anyway. I could drink the blood in front of him, but even then, the dumb-ass millionaire wouldn't recognise that it wasn't red wine in my glass.
– Are you telling me that you're just lying there on your outdoor balcony, in nothing but sexy underwear? – Troy replied languidly.
I looked up at him, his lustful gaze caressing my beautiful white body.
– It's not underwear, Troy. It's a dressing gown," I said calmly.