Immortals in Bloom

She remembered her death.

Strange, but she could recall counting her heartbeats, her last breaths. Then there was nothing.

She sat on freshly turned earth and wondered, if she was sitting here, who was buried six feet below in a wooden box?

A pot of marigolds sat near a small tripod holding a placard with dates and a name. She’d always liked marigolds. The bright, bold blooms had always seemed like happy flowers. Her grandmother had taught her how to pot them, showing her how deep to plant, how firm to pat the soil, how much water and how much sun. She remembered her grandmothers’ soft voice calling her.

“Tris,” she said aloud. “My name is Tris.”

At that, she remembered her family, her mother and father and younger brother. She could picture their faces smiling, could hear their laughter as if they stood next to her. Her mother had always smelled like lavender, her father like Irish Springs. She remembered the house she’d grown up in, swimming in their pool, riding bikes to school.

Greif welled up inside her. Was she really dead?

How had she ended up here?

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

At the sound of the voice, she stood and turned.

A man stood behind her. Tall with sandy blonde hair and dark eyes, he was handsome and somehow, she knew him.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“You don’t remember me?” He frowned. “Strange, they usually do. No worries though.”

He stepped towards her and raised his hands. She flinched back, cowering.

“Get away from me!”

“Tris, I’m trying to help,” he explained. “Stop being so dramatic.”

He clasped her head in his hands, ignoring her protests. At his touch, memories of the two of them appeared in her head. She saw them wrapped around each other, his breath in her lungs. She could almost feel the heat and weight of his body where he lay atop her.

“I’ll love you forever,” she heard herself say in her mind. “Don’t ever let me go.”

She remembered their last kiss, a sharp pain, and a bead of blood on his lips when she’d pulled back. Afterwards, she’d been so tired.

She jerked back out of his hold.

“You did this to me!” she accused.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you.” He shrugged. “And because I could. Beings such as I do as we please.”

“I want to go home. I have a life! A family!”

“You had a life,” he corrected. “Now you have a new one with me. Come now,” he offered his hand.

“No, I want to go home,” she repeated.

“You will.” She saw his eyes darken in anger when she stood there. “Tris, we belong together now. Come.”

She was shaking her head as he spoke.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

She turned around. Freshly turned earth, potted flowers bright even under the moon, and there. Her name on the placard. She hadn’t noticed before or maybe her mind just couldn’t comprehend.

“I’m dead?” she asked, heart aching. “Really dead?”

A hand on her shoulder turned her and strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“No,” he breathed into her ear. “You’re just now living.”

* * * * *

He took her to his home, a large house on the coast of Anamur in Turkey. She didn’t remember much of the trip there and suspected he’d kept her subdued somehow so she wouldn’t cause a scene. His home was grand with marble floors, granite counters, and ceilings soaring up to twenty feet in some rooms. Gardens bloomed with lilies and hyacinth. Roses climbed the columns, scenting the air.

It was beautiful and elegant, like the man himself, but she only wanted her old home.

He plied her with extravagant gifts. There were diamond necklaces, sapphire encrusted bracelets, and ruby earrings.

He stroked her mouth when he gave her the earrings.

“To match your lips,” he told her, lowering his head.

She put her hands on his chest, pushing him away.

“You killed me,” she reminded him. “I won’t sleep with you.”

“Some relationships have started worse,” he said, putting his arms around her. “You told me you’d love me forever.”

“That was before you killed me!”

“I weary of your complaints.” His eyes were dark and hard. “I’ve given you forever. Immortality. People have killed for that.”

“I don’t want it.” Ignoring his warning look, she shoved him again.

“Everyone wants immortality.”

“Not me.” She turned away. “I just want my family. I want my life back.”

“Stop this!” He grabbed her, made her look at him. His face was terrifying, eyes black like coal, cheekbones stark under his skin. “You’ll be grateful for my gifts and you will love me.”

“I can’t,” she snapped, struggling to get out of his hold. “I won’t love you when you took my life from me. My family mourns me but I’m still living.” She couldn’t stop the tears, didn’t try to as they ran down her cheeks. “It’s a terrible thing, knowing that I can’t ever go back and tell them the truth. I won’t ever hear them laugh again or hug them.”

She sobbed then, grieving for her family who was lost. She would’ve crumpled to the floor if he wasn’t still holding her.

“You can laugh with me,” he told her. “I’m your family now.” He shook her.

“Never,” she cried. “How can you be? Family doesn’t hurt each other like this!”

He shoved her away so abruptly that she stumbled and tripped. She lay on the floor, chest heaving, and vision blurry through her tears.

“You know nothing.” His voice shook. “But you will.”

* * * * *

The first time he struck her, she was so surprised, it didn’t even hurt.

They’d just finished dinner. He insisted that she eat with him every night even though she’d rather take her meals by herself. He’d kept her wineglass full and at the end of the meal, he’d tried to kiss her. Again, she’d refused him, telling him she’d never allow him to kiss her and he’d gotten angry, demanding that she stop being childish.

“Children hold on to impossible dreams and expectations,” he’d sneered. “Adults live in reality, accepting things they cannot change.”

“I can accept that I can’t ever go back to my family,” she replied. “I can even accept my ‘death’” She put air quotes around that word. “What I can’t accept is sleeping with my murderer.”

His hand was a blur, the crack of flesh striking flesh loud. Her head rocked back and the shock of it kept her from feeling the blow.

“I’ve given you a gift that others have begged for.” He stepped closer and she cowered. “Others have killed for this honor and you,” he grabbed her hair, twisting it till she cried out. “You call me a murderer.”

“Because you are,” she gasped, throat tight with fear.

“You loved me before.” His eyes were blazing and she couldn’t look away. “You’ll love me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Immortal means you’ll live forever. In time, you’ll forget about your family. You’ll forget why you loved them and you’ll only remember me.”

“I won’t,” she repeated. She reached up to his wrist and dug her nails in, trying to get him to let go. He didn’t even balk. “I’ll never forget them if I live a hundred years and even after they’re gone and I’m still here, I still won’t love you.”

His other hand came up and he gripped her chin, squeezing till her teeth pressed against her tongue and she tasted blood. His nostrils flared.

“Beings such as us do not ask. We take what we want, as I took you.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, forcing her lips apart. His hold on her chin prevented her from pulling away.

When he moved back, red stained his lips. He licked it away.

“I’ve given you a gift I’ve rarely given others,” he told her, voice strained with fury. “Your place is here now, with me.”

“Only because you took me.” Her own voice trembled with fear and anger. “I had a family who really loved me. What you and I had before was nothing. It wasn’t real.”

He raised his hand and she flinched.

His hand fisted in the air, shaking, and then he lowered it to his side.

“It was real,” he said softly. “I will have that again.”

She shook her head.

“Not with me. Never again.”

His mouth curved but it wasn’t a smile. It was a threat.

He said nothing, just left.

* * * * *

Enduring was how she got through the long days and even longer nights. Dinner with him was a trial in patience. Every night, he’d force her to drink, and demand that she love him. When she rejected him, he’d grow angry and sometimes, he’d hit her again. In the mornings, he’d come into her room to wake her with gifts.

Pendants of rose quartz and amethyst which he strung from the ceiling, casting rainbows about her room. Beautiful dresses in silks and satins which he told her to wear for their dinners. Golden hair-combs decorated with jade and a ring with a large perfect diamond.

This is what caused her to snap when he tried to slip it onto her finger.

She jerked her hand away.

“What’re you doing?” she yelled. “Why would you think I’d wear that?”

He said nothing, eyes narrowing as he grabbed her hand.

She wrenched it back, surprising them both with her strength.

“I won’t wear it. You’ll have to break my hand to get it on my finger,” she warned.

“You think that would stop me?” he chuckled. “I already killed you once.”

Frustration and grief welled.

“Why won’t you let me go?” she moaned as she sank to the floor. Hands pressed to her throat, she tried to hold back sobs. “I’ll go mad if you keep me here. This isn’t any good.” She peered up at him as tears pricked her eyes. “I won’t ever love you, never again. You must know that.”

He stepped to her, grabbing her hair, and yanking her to her feet.

“You’re a child still. You have no idea what ‘never’ means.” He put an arm around her waist and tugged her hair so she was bent over that arm. “I’ve lived for millennia. When you’ve seen as much life as I have, you understand things differently. I’m not human.” He lowered his head to her throat, running his teeth up and down it. “You’re not human either, not any longer. You don’t know what that means yet, but you will. You’ll learn to take what you want.”

He took his arm away and she fell to her knees, just his grip on her hair keeping her upright. She cried out at the sudden pain and he snatched her hand. Jamming the ring on her finger he curled his hand over hers into a fist so she couldn’t take it off. She felt the crunch of bones.

Then he let go and stalked out of the room.

She sat there, holding her hand and staring at the ring for a long time, cheeks wet although she wasn’t sure why she cried.

Take what you want, he’d said.

Her eyes cast about the room and landed on the hair-comb. Standing, she walked over, picked it up and smashed it on the side of the dresser. It snapped and she picked up a jagged piece. Looking into the mirror, she barely recognized the girl looking back and that was fitting. She wasn’t the same. Would never be the same again, so why keep going?

She closed her eyes as she jammed the shard deep into her heart.

* * * * *

She opened her eyes.

She remembered her death, counting her final heartbeats, her last breaths.

A man’s voice spoke behind her.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?”