Chapter Twenty-Three

“I don't want to hurt her.” AnnMarie said.

“She knows what she's getting into.” Esther said.

Esther was surprised that AnnMarie had agreed to let the witch come to her house and help them. She was usually so reluctant and fearful when she had to meet someone new, though Esther knew it wasn't without reason.

“But still— it's hard, living with the guilt of knowing you hurt someone.” AnnMarie said, shaking her head as she nervously chewed on her thumb.

Esther winced and turned away, trying to ignore the familiar guilt that came clawing at her chest.

“I know.”

“I just— if she does get hurt, I feel like it will all be for nothing, you know.” AnnMarie said. “I just— wouldn't it be easier if you just— if you made me like you?”

Esther frowned down at AnnMarie, who continued nervously eyeing the kitchen door.

“Annie— Annie, I can't do that. I would have to kill you. It would be slow. It would be painful. You don't want to be undead, Annie. It's a curse and—”

Esther stopped to shake her head.

“Sorry Annie. I won't give you another lecture.”

“No, I'm sorry, Esther. I shouldn't pester you about it when you've already told me

your feelings.” She said, “I just don't want other people to waste all this time and effort on me, just for me to ruin it for them anyway.”

It was hard to listen to AnnMarie give up. Helping the girl had given Esther the most purpose she had felt in decades. She didn't want her to feel like being undead was her only option.

There was a knock at the door, and AnnMarie froze in place, like a deer in the middle of a country road late at night. Esther took the initiative and opened the door, letting the fair haired woman inside.

Esther took note of the way AnnMarie immediately turned away from the woman when she walked in, as if even looking the witch in the eye might kill her.

The witch, however, obviously did not feel the same. She walked excitedly overIto AnnMarie without a second thought, taking the sides of her face in her hands and inspecting her closely.

“I can feel the curse in you— it's subtle, but it's there, like a fruit that's rotten just below the flesh.”

Esther could see AnnMarie swallow, her lower lip trembling. She clearly wasn't used to anyone touching her and flinched when the witch's fingertips made contact with her skin.

“It's sad. Paying the price for a sin you never even committed.” The witch cooed as she gently stroked the side of AnnMarie’s face. “We're all a little like that though— women, I mean. Living in a mire of the pain of the women who came before us.”

“You're making her uncomfortable.” Esther said. “And that's saying something, coming from me.”

The witch clicked her tongue and gave AnnMarie a sad glance.

“Sorry, you're probably not very used to someone interacting with you, are you?”

AnnMarie looked towards the ground, a delicious blush flooding her pale cheeks.

“No, sorry.”

“What's your name again?”

“AnnMarie.”

The witch offered her hand.

“Breanna, in case you forgot.”

“Nice to meet you.” AnnMarie said nervously, drawing her hand back to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear.

The witch glanced over to Esther.

“Is she your heart's delight?”

Esther frowned.

“What?”

The witch laughed, seemingly to herself.

“Nevermind. Do you have my payment?”

“I don't have much money.” AnnMarie said, shaking her head.

“I'm going to pay her.” Esther spoke up. “She wants me to drink her blood.”

That wasn't entirely the truth. Sure, the witch did want Esther to feed off her, but there was something more she had requested, something Esther didn't quite feel comfortable saying in front of AnnMarie just yet.

Esther just needed some time to explain it to her in a way that wouldn't have her immediately scrapping the entire operation.

Thankfully, the witch did not speak up, just stayed eyeing her with her arms across her chest.

“O-oh. Okay.” AnnMarie said.

“Did you want me to do it now?” Esther asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I like my payment up front.”

The witch walked closer to her as she spoke.

“Alright—”

Esther leaned into the woman's throat. Her skin was pale, like the color of fresh milk. Blue tinged the veins that snaked their way underneath the skin. She smelled nice too— like incense and skin. Esther felt herself salivate in anticipation.

She bit down on the woman's neck, hard even. Her skin was soft and smelled sweet and smoky like burnt candles with crumbling wicks. Esther felt her teeth easily sink in. Her blood flooded into Esther’s mouth, and it tasted like it was buzzing with excitement. It was good, but it didn't have the quiet, melancholy longing that she craved from AnnMarie.

A jolt of surprise tracked through her when she felt the woman pull her closer with a content sigh, her fingertips digging into the side of her waist and hip. She suddenly felt embarrassed and pulled away from the woman, not even bothering to lick the blood that dripped on her neck.

She was so flustered by the woman's reaction she didn't even pay attention to whatever it was the woman felt when she did… that—though the buzz of magic did sting her tongue.

She noticed AnnMarie wasn't in the room anymore, and the sharpest pang of guilt she had felt in years struck through her chest like a dagger.

“Sorry— excuse me for a minute—”

She said, brushing past the witch and heading back down the narrow hall, over to AnnMarie’s bedroom door.

She gently nudged the door open, and it let out a low groan as the rusted hinges swung open. AnnMarie sat at the edge of her bed, not crying but clearly upset, eyes glassy and distant as she glared at the floor.

She looked up at Esther, but only for a moment before she turned her eyes back to the tattered carpet.

"I'm sorry I can't give you that." AnnMarie said.

Esther felt her resolve crumble. She shut the door gently behind her and walked over to sit beside AnnMarie.

“Annie, don't apologize to me. There's nothing for you to feel guilty over”

"She liked it when you bit her. She even pulled you closer." AnnMarie said. "All I ever do is cry like a baby when you bite me."

"Annie—" Esther reached out and grabbed just the tips of her fingers.

"She's real pretty, too." She went on, her eyes still on the ground.

"You're pretty, AnnMarie." Esther offered, not really knowing what else to say.

She meant it, of course, but she wasn't used to reassuring someone. She had spent so long pushing everyone away. She was now realizing it might be a skill she no longer possessed.

"I'm just some dumb hick with no friends— no one that cares about me." AnnMarie said. “And I know that.”

“I don’t expect you to like me hurting you. I never have.” Esther whispered.

“But it would make things easier for… us.” AnnMarie said.

Us.

There was an implication there, Esther thought, something ambiguous, unclear. But it was there.

She knew something was there.

“You shouldn’t want to indulge me like that.” Esther said.

“But I do want to.”

“Annie—” Esther said. “I don't even fully understand why you like me. I'm not very pretty, and I'm not alive— hell, I'm not even nice.”

“I think you're all of those things.” AnnMarie said. “Well, except maybe alive, but I don't care about that. I like you the way you are.”

An indescribable pain jolted through her, something that hurt and ached in a way that almost felt good. She gently grabbed the sides of AnnMarie’s face to tilt it upwards before she leaned it.

Esther kissed her softly.

It felt wrong every time she kissed her. It was a type of gentleness and sweetness she felt she didn't deserve. She felt like AnnMarie should be repulsed by her.

No, she knew AnnMarie should be repulsed by her.

And yet she wasn't.

“You can have my blood, my body, whatever you want from me, Esther.” AnnMarie said when she pulled away.

“The only thing I want is for you to be happy, Annie.”

“Well, I want to be your favorite person.”

Esther reached down and squeezed her hand even tighter.

“You are— I promise you are.”

Esther went back out to where Breanna was waiting in the living room. The witch stood casually against the wall, inspecting her nails, only looking up once Esther was close.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble. I can't risk her liking me, you know, so I thought this would be the way to accomplish that.”

Why would you think coming onto me would make her dislike you? Esther thought to herself, but she didn't voice it out loud. A part of her already knew why AnnMarie would be jealous and upset.

A part of her was just still in denial that AnnMarie could actually have some kind of genuine… affection for her.

“Hm.” was all she could bring herself to say to the witch.

“Although… I'm not even sure if you can feel guilty— what with your condition and all.”

Esther flinched like she'd touched a hot stove.

If there was no guilt, then what was the force that sucked her chest inwards at all hours of the day? Of course, she felt guilt.

She frowned.

“Of course I can feel guilty.”

The blonde witch cocked her head to the side, her eyebrow raised curiously.

“Don't you only feel things when you drink blood?”

“No, I can feel things all the time. It's just like… like looking through a foggy window.” Esther said. “Everything is just so much more clear after I've fed.”

Breanna made an incredulous sort of noise, something that was almost like a laugh.

“You know, you've got a real unsettling energy about you.”

Esther shrugged her off as she thought ti herself: And you don't?

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“So I take it you didn't tell her what you'd actually do for me?”

Esther paused, listening to make sure she didn't hear AnnMarie approaching before she spoke.

“She won't be okay with it. She won't agree to anything that might hurt me— even if it's in her best interests.”

Breanna gave her a surprisingly empathetic look.

“You'll have to tell her eventually. If this is the kind of blood curse I think it is, She has to be the one to do it.”

“I know.” Esther said, glancing away, “I'm going to think of a way to tell her.”