bChapter /b3

I look in every direction searching for the source of the voice, but only the trees and the lonely path answer me.

The words crash into me with weight, and my shoulders shake bas /bbI /bbreak into btears/b.

I’ve been bso /bselfish, such a terrible daughter and sisterb… /b

I almost condemned my siblings to my bfate /band my family to disgraceb. /b

I cover my eyes with my hands, trying to hold back the tears, but theye out with force, unwilling ito /istop.

I don’t know how long I’ll bstay /bsitting there before Ss appears.

“ra!” My brother’s steps grow louder and louder. “ra! What happened?”

The warmth of his arms surrounds meb, /band instinctively, my hands try to cling to him, seekingfort.

I bury my face in his chestb, /bsoaking his shirt with my hair and wet clothes.

He murmurs something bI /bcan’t make out while rocking us both gently.

“There, there, ra… It’s okay now.”

I feel his fingers tangle in my hair as he strokes it.

His embrace is bexactly /bwhat I needed–and I didn’t know it until this moment.

Small clouds of breath form in the air with each of my ragged breaths.

His hands massage my feet and ankles, trying to get my cirction back to normal and drive out the sickly color.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I shake my head, and he doesn’t push.

That’s what I like about him, the bond we have, the mutual agreement not to push each other when the questions are too painful to answer.

We spend a long while on the shores of the bke/bb–/bme clinging to him, trying to absorb some warmth, and him checking to make sure the cirction in my limbs returns to normal.

“I hope you know you’re going to bcause /bquite ba /bstir when we get home.”

One of his arms goes around my back, the other slides under my knees, and he lifts me from the ground.

“Mom and Dad are going to lose their minds when they see you like thisb./bb” /b

I nod. My parents will definitely make a fuss when they see me like this.

It’s obvious I’m already in trouble for noting home before darkb, /band showing up like this bisn’t /bgoing to make things better.

Ss doesn’t speak again; he carries me silently along the path until we reach the empty vige bstreets/b.

The cold still lingers deep in my bones and I don’t know what else to do to warm up.

I sigh in relief when I see our house in the distanceb, /bcasting an orange light through the windows.

When we reach the doorb, /bSs kicks it openb, /band the avnche of my family’s concern begins.

“What happened?” my father asks, rising from his chair beside the fire.

b“/bra!” My mother’s cry cuts through the air. “My girl! What happened? You’re bsoaked/bb!/b”

“Bring as many nkets as you can,” Ss orders as he carries bme /btoward the fire.

I don’t even get to feel the relief of being near the firece.

I pass out on the way to it, and thest thing I’m aware of is my head falling backward with ba /bsharp jolt.

As expected, I spent my birthday and the following days in bed with pneumonia that made the airing out of my chest sound like a horse’s neighs. Four daysterb, /bmy appearance hasn’t improved much, and I hope this will bserve /bbas /ban bexcuse /bso no one buys me tonight.

My thick ck hair bhas /bbeen bneatly /bgathered at the nape of my neck with small floral pins. My skin bhas /ba lifeless tone, and two bsmall /bpurple bgrooves /b1/3

12:17 PM

brest /bunder my eyesb. /b

i* /i

“My little girl…b” /bbsays /bMom through tears bas /bshe pinches my cheeks to give them some color. “I’m not ready for this moment. None of us are.”

My chest tightens with each word, I blink bseveral /btimes to chase away the urge to cry. My tears will only make this harder.

“Don’t worry, Mom. bMaybe /bI’ll be lucky and no one will find me appetizing enough tonight.”

My mother’s eyes look at me without humorb, /bred and flooded with tears.

+15,

“Whether they buy you or not, this bis /bthest night you’ll spend under our roof.” Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she pulls me into her arms. She gently strokes my back. b“/bStay healthy–not for them, but for yourself, ra. Write to us, let us know somehow that you’re still alive.”

“I’ll try,” I reply without conviction.

Most of us already know the fate that awaits once we’re bought.

Each vampire bis /bsupposed to have ba /bcertain number of “feeders” ording to their rank. No more, no less, as long as they remain healthy and capable of fulfilling their duty.

They’re not allowed to hurt usb, /boverstep, or hasten our deaths. But those are just words,ws written by their ancestors and ours to guarantee peace.

In practice, many of them overdrink, leave us dry, discard us, and quickly find a recement, with the cooperation, of course, of corrupt Red

Auctionsb. /b

Mom leaves me alone for a few moments, which I use to try to burn into my memory every detail of what has been my bedroom for eighteen years -my ce of brest /band confessions.

I’m wearing the prettiest and bnewest /bdress I have in my closet.

One that squeezes my chest so tightly it’s hard to breathe.

It’s made of green velvet with golden thread embroidery, the neckline is square and reveals the curves of my breasts. I get up from the little stool in front of the vanity and grab the shawl.

I give myself one bst /blook in the mirror and involuntarily pass my fingers along the curve of my neck, as if I already knew I’d never see it intact again. I wrap the shawl over my shoulders, hold it tightly, and leave the room.

I descend the stairs, listening to bevery /bbcreak /bof the wood, and see all the bfaces /bof my family waiting at the bottom.

b“/bYou look beautiful,” says bSs/b, his eyes shining.

“ra always looks beautiful.”

Dad takes my hand as I bstep /bdown the bst /bbstair /band pulls me into his bchest/bb, /bhugging me so tightly my bones protest.

Still, I say nothing.

bI /bstay there for several breaths, knowing this will be thest time I’ll be in my father’s arms.

It’s painfully hard to pull away.

“ra?b” /ba child’s bvoice /bcalls.

My little sister looks up bat /bme from a few heads below. Her huge honeyb–/bcolored eyes gaze at me, frightened, and I smile to reassure her. I hug her, cradling her face against my chest and stroking her copper curls.

I’m going to miss so much…

I won’t be there to soothe her scraped knees the next time she falls ying, there will be no more candlelit stories, and I won’t be around when she starts smiling because of some boy.

Our parents watch the scene with true anguish, and Ss joins our bembrace/bb, /bwrapping his arms around us both and shielding us from the world with the breadth of his body.

I inhale the bscent /bof home while holding back btears/b.

The sound of a bell breaks the silence.

The Red Auction is open to receive bus/b.