Just a Taste Part 21

Ch 21: That Feeling

Isabella

December 25th, 2024- Abandoned Orphanage- 3:42 AM

"You need to sleep, darling." Dylan murmured, kissing my cheek.

Shrugging, I kept staring at the Christmas tree at the end of the hall through the open door. The one Margaret placed inside Grandpa's old treatment room. 

It brought 'light and happiness' to the dark crypt of sadness, she said. 

To me, it's just a stupid tree taking up space that belonged to a human being. 

A deeply flawed, flesh-addicted human, but still. He was my grandfather, and now he's gone.

Forever.

Dylan sat down next to me, wrapping my body in a plush snowman blanket. "Are you upset with me?"

I locked eyes with him. "What? No, why would you think that?"

His amber eyes swirled with dismay as he muttered, "Well, you've barely spoken to me, won't sleep in our bed, and this is the first eye contact we've had in almost two days."

Oh wow, I did all of that? No wonder he looks so sad.

"It's not... you." I mumbled, tears teasing my eyes. "It's me, okay? I'm not feeling well up here." I tapped my temple.

He sighed in relief. "That's good to hear. Is there... Anything I can do to help you?"

Shaking my head, I confessed. My voice cracked with emotion. "I don't know, Dylan. I really don't."

Dylan cupped my face in his hands. "Hey, I'm here for you, no matter what." He kissed my forehead gently. "I love you, Isabella."

"I love you too, Dylan, and Merry Christmas." I whispered, resting my head against his shoulder.

For a moment, I didn't feel sad or confused. The lingering dread of our uncertain future wasn't so scary. Because I wasn’t alone.

What more could I want?

7:30 AM

My body felt heavy; eyes barely able to stay open as a lazy numbness flooded my limbs.

Dylan was right. I should've slept a little instead of staring at that tree all night.

Girl, every time you tried, you kept seeing your dead Grandpa and Dylan covered in his blood. There's no way you could've slept.

Yeah, you're right, but it doesn't change how I feel.

"Emma?" Margaret said, pulling me out of my sleep-deprived haze. "Are you okay, dear?"

Am I okay? I don't know anymore.

Hands hovering over my breakfast utensils, I blinked a few times. "Um, yeah. I just don't feel good."

She placed her hand on my forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever. Why don't you lie down for a bit? Then I'll wake you up and we'll open gifts together?"

Yikes, lie down, as in sleeping?

Nodding, I mumbled, "I'll try."

When I stood up, Dylan did as well. "Want me to come with you? We were both up late."

Dammit, I can't deny him when he has that glimmer of excitement in his eyes. Even if my mind is terrified of him right now.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I replied with a shy smile.

Margaret saved our breakfast for later, stating there's no reason to 'waste good food', then Dylan and I climbed the stairs. Where our shared room was.

The room was originally the House Mother's room, Margaret's quarters, but Grandpa remodeled it after purchasing the property.

Evidently, after the orphanage went under, he bought the land intending to bulldoze it for personal usage. When Daddy tried to kill him, he sought refuge here and hired Margaret through his various contacts.

Good for him, I suppose.

As Dylan pulled the covers back, I found myself staring at the bed. Its warm, inviting presence made me nervous.

"Hey," Dylan whispered, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "If this makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor, or in another room."

My heart stuttered. I know he's concerned about me, and it's not fair for me to keep avoiding him. "No, it's... fine. I mean it."

Slowly, I climbed onto the and slid under the covers. Dylan hesitated to join me.

"Get comfortable, please." I begged, patting the space next to me.

He obeyed, scooting close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my neck.

"Is this okay?" He asked, stroking my hair.

Warm tingles prickle across my flesh at his touch, sending a jolt of aching wetness between my legs. My breath hitched as I confirmed, "Yes, that's wonderful."

The two of us stared into each other's eyes as a fuzzy cloud of sleep washed over us. We fell asleep immediately.

For the first time in days, I feel good.

Maybe I won't have nightmares this time.

"Isabella, hey, wake up!" Dylan urged, tapping my arm.

I jolted awake. My head felt dizzy, my throat was raw, and lungs felt heavy. Wheezing, I leaned forward so I could breathe better while Dylan rubbed my back.

"Darling, you were screaming and crying in your sleep." He murmured, kissing the top of my head. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Clutching the blankets, I nodded. "I- I think so, but I can't remember it. Usually, I... see things."

"What things?" Dylan questioned, touching my hand. "If you don't mind telling me?"

Shit, this isn't good. I don't want to keep secrets, yet I'm entitled to my feelings regarding all this crazy stuff going on.

"I peeked at Grandpa after you killed him." I confessed, tears teasing my eyes. "I just... couldn't help myself."

He sighed. "Fuck, I'm sorry. You didn't need to see that."

After a beat of silence, I broke the tension.

Curiosity clawed at my mind as I inquired, "You won't kill me, right?"

Dylan shifted so that we're facing one another. "Look at me, please,"

Trembling, I locked eyes with him.

"Are you scared of me?" He questioned, grasping my hand. "Is that why you're having nightmares?"

"Maybe? I don't know." I muttered. "I guess seeing you get angry, and how easily you kill people, it made me wonder if I was next?"

"I only kill threats, Isabella. Not those I love." He remarked, bringing my hand to his soft lips. "I'll work on my anger, alright?"

Hope blossomed in my heart, filling it with fluffy clouds and warm kisses.

"Do you mean that? You aren't going to kill or eat me?” I asked, returning his gesture.

A wicked smirk graced his lips. "Well, I'll probably 'eat' certain parts of you, but yes, your life is safe."

Oh, girl, he's naughty!

Sparks of lust passed between us, making my heart pound in my chest. Just as Dylan's lips descended upon mine, we heard Margaret knock at the door.

"Hey, if you two are up, would you like to exchange gifts?" She questioned.

I replied, "We'll be right there!"

Margaret decorated the lobby area with love and holiday cheer. An enormous Christmas tree sat in the center, covered in multicolored lights, glittering red and white baubles, tinsel, and a golden star adorning the top. The sight reminded me of my childhood spent gushing over our tree.

Decorative throw pillows littered the chairs, while delicate Nativity figures, homemade cotton ball snowfall, and flameless candles invaded the tables.

Off to the side, there was a scrumptious feast of seared ham steaks, garlic mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, green bean casserole, fruit salad, and apple pie all laid out on folding tables covered in red and green tree tablecloths. My stomach growled loudly at the sight.

"We'll eat in a moment dear," Margaret giggled, sauntering toward a closet. "It's gift time!"

Dylan followed her, sensually meeting my gaze as he walked by.

I pressed my thighs together in anticipation. Later, we'll revisit our activity.

Once they had extracted the gift bags full of wrapped items, I sat in a chair and waited patiently.

"Now," Margaret announced, sitting across from me. "I ordered a few of these things with overnight shipping, but some were bought at a local store, or were personal items of yours in the past."

Happiness filled my cold, numb heart. God, Margaret is such a blessing.

"Thank you." I said, grinning widely. "I feel bad though, I didn't get you anything."

She waved her hand casually. "No worries. Johnathan used his personal account to purchase all these gifts. He insisted before, you know."

Dylan and I nodded in acknowledgement.

The next few hours passed in a flash. Margaret personally picked out a maroon sweater dress with leggings and a pair of black boots online. Somehow the sizes matched perfectly. Dylan, apparently, paid her to grab an aquamarine tennis bracelet from the highway outlet mall.

She gave Dylan an item that I requested from the antique store: a brand-new serrated hunting knife with an oak handle. I figured he could use it, and I couldn't go buy it myself.

Affectionately, she handed Dylan a package containing two shirts, two pairs of jeans, new bootlaces, and a taser. "Just in case," she said.

The final gifts, were from my past. A pink leather journal that I never used, bearing the name 'Emma' in gorgeous embroidery, and a stuffed white rabbit. Dylan and I shared an awkward look when I unwrapped it.

Poor Margaret didn't understand why and we didn't elaborate. It's Christmas, after all!

When later afternoon turned to evening, everyone ate Margaret's heavenly cooking. Everything from the savory ham steaks to the sweet, and flaky apple pie was perfect! It's almost as if every item was cooked with tender care and love folded into each bite.

Belly full of food and heart full of joy, Dylan and I went upstairs to store our gifts and to finish what we had started earlier.

Carefully, I stashed my wondrous gifts in our dresser. Dylan wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering in my ear, "Tell me what you need, darling."

Blushing furiously, I purred, "Dylan, make me feel alive again."

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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