Chapter 55 55

Chapter 55 55

Morning arrived without asking permission.
Pale light crept in through the narrow window, reflecting off the cracked floor and washing over our exhausted faces. I woke with my body still stiff, my back aching from sitting on the floor all night. Dahlia was asleep in my arms, her breathing uneven, her brows drawn together as if even sleep refused to grant her rest.
I watched her for a long time.
“I promise,” I whispered softly. “I will find a way.”
I shifted carefully so she could lie on the bed. Just as I was about to stand, her hand closed around my arm by reflex.
“sist,” she murmured, half-awake. “Don’t go.”
“I’m here,” I answered quickly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Only then did her grip loosen. I closed the window slightly, holding back the scent of the city as it began to wake. The smell of warm bread from the shop below mixed with vehicle exhaust and blood. Too many stimuli for a vampire whose energy was nearly depleted.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed my fingers to my temples. My head throbbed. Restraint was not only exhausting for Dahlia, but for me as well. Two nights without blood, with our energy drained from constant movement and hiding, had pushed my vampire body to its limits.
“I need to think,” I muttered to myself. “Fast.”
I checked the remaining money. Not much. Enough for one or two days of human food. Not enough to buy blood from the black market, assuming such a thing even existed in this small town. And I did not know who could be trusted.
A soft knock sounded from outside. Not our door, but the neighboring room. The cough of an elderly man followed, then the sound of dragging footsteps. I held my breath and waited. When the sound faded, I stood and locked our door from the inside.
I prepared cold water and washed my face. The reflection in the cracked mirror showed eyes that were too sharp, too dark. I looked like someone perpetually ready to run.
“We need a solution,” I said to the reflection. “Not just surviving today.”
Dahlia woke close to noon. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were clearer.
“sist,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“For what.”
“I almost went out last night.”
I sat beside her. “You stopped. That’s what matters.”
She lowered her gaze. “I’m afraid that one day I won’t be that strong.”
I exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid too. That’s why we have to reorganize everything.”
She looked at me. “How.”
“We live like humans,” I said. “As much as possible. Regular hours. Daytime work. Sleeping at night. And for blood, we find a way that doesn’t endanger anyone.”
“Like what.”
I paused. “Donors. Volunteers. Or stored blood from hospitals.”
Her eyes widened. “Stealing.”
“Borrowing,” I corrected. “Without hurting anyone.”
She hesitated. “What if we’re caught.”
“We won’t be careless.”
Silence settled between us. Outside, a vegetable vendor passed by, calling out his goods in a hoarse voice. Human life continued, indifferent to the inner conflict of two vampires in a narrow room.
“I can help,” Dahlia said suddenly. “I can work too.”
“You’re not strong enough yet.”
“I don’t want to just wait,” she said, her voice firmer. “I’m not a child.”
I looked at her. There was determination there, mixed with guilt.
“All right,” I said finally. “But we do this slowly.”
That afternoon, we went out briefly. Not to hunt, but to read the city. I guided her through the market at a safe distance, choosing shaded paths. Dahlia wore her jacket hood low, avoiding too many gazes.
A fruit vendor smiled warmly. “Apples? Fresh ones.”
I bought two. Dahlia held hers uncertainly.
“Eat,” I said.
She took a small bite. “It tastes… empty.”
“I know.”
We sat on a bench near the bus stop. A young woman sat beside us, staring at her phone.
“It’s getting cold,” she said without looking up.
“Yes,” I replied briefly.
Dahlia tensed. I took her hand inside my jacket, steadying her. The woman did not sense anything. Thankfully.
When we returned to the room, Dahlia lay down immediately. I prepared warm tea. The steam was calming, though it filled none of what she truly needed.
“sist,” she said quietly. “If one day I can’t hold back… don’t let me hurt anyone.”
I looked at her sharply. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Promise,” she pressed. “Please.”
I swallowed. “I promise I’ll stop you. But I will never kill you. Never.”
She nodded. “That’s enough.”
Night fell again, faster than I wanted. I locked the door and turned off the light. We sat against the wall, keeping watch. This time we talked more. About small things. About the palace. About the rose garden Mother used to tend.
“I miss it,” Dahlia said.
“So do I.”
“Can we go home.”
“Not now.”
She fell silent. “I trust you.”
Those words weighed heavier than any crown.
When hunger crept back, we were ready. I recited something softly, an ancient rhythm Mother had taught us to calm the blood. Dahlia followed the breathing, slowly, until the tremors eased.
That night, we endured again.
And for the first time since we ran, I felt that we were not merely fleeing. I was beginning to build something. Fragile. Small. But real.
“Tomorrow,” I whispered to myself as Dahlia fell asleep. “Tomorrow I will find a better way.”
Outside, the human city continued to pulse without rest. And inside that narrow room, two vampires refused to become monsters.