What the fuck was that?
His head was bowed so she couldn’t see if he was still in that state or not. She hit a button on the wall for the intercom.
“Tristan?” She called out and instantly wondered if that was a bad idea. Would he go for her in the panic room? He looked up and around, bewildered. He threw his head in his hands and leaned forward and rocked. She stared at him, awestruck. She went through the slim door to the bathroom and got tissue and wiped between her legs. No more blood. Yet. Her period typically started light and then by the time she was ready to use the bathroom again she was expecting the bleeding to get heavier.
The sting of another cramp spread across her lower abdomen. She leaned under the bed and pulled out a duffle bag. There were some track pants and t-shirts, jeans, a few hoodies, socks, and a few pairs of Tristan’s underwear inside. She took a pair of Tristan’s boxer briefs and went into the bathroom. She wadded up some toilet paper and stuffed it into the briefs and then put them on. She was about to take off her dress and put on one of his tracksuits but then the phone started ringing,
The call display read ‘Sam’.
“Hello?” She answered frantically.
“What’s going on?”
“I-I..I’m in the panic room. He’s not himself. I think he was going to kill me… He’s in the bedroom looking awful and rocking and, I think if I hadn’t gotten away he’d have killed me. I think he can get in here, in through the closet. I don’t know how much time I have, I---he’s freezing cold and his skin is gray or almost blue and his eyes are black. My period came and he acted all freaked out and he, he… “
“Your period came?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah.” Kyla said.
“Freezing cold?”
“Yeah, he’s bluish gray looking and he feels cold, I ---”
“I’ll be right there. Where’s this panic room?”
Kyla felt a stab of fear. Should she trust him to tell him? What choice did she have?
“Kyla, love…where?”
“Uh the back of the master bedroom closet.”
“Be there as soon as I can.”
“Kay, thanks.”
Kyla leaned against the wall and looked at the monitor. She didn’t know if she’d just made a really dumb move or not. She tried to reach out, in her mind, to Tristan. She tried to send love and affection. She tried really hard to push the fear she felt away. Seeing him sitting there, looking like that, it wasn’t easy. He was still mostly dressed up but with humungous fangs and grayish skin and black eyes. He was staring off into space with his mouth hanging open. She closed her eyes and pictured his blue eyes, his dimples, tried to feel the feelings she’d felt the last time he held her. Tried to feel his warmth, feel safe, and protected. She opened her eyes and looked at the monitor. He stood up.
She looked closer at the screen. It looked like the color was returning to his face. His eyes, they looked like they might be normal. His fangs started to recede.
Suddenly, he dashed into the ensuite bathroom. Then he came out and disappeared from the view of the camera. She guessed he’d gone downstairs. Was he looking for her? Was it safe to tell him where she was?
He was back in the camera’s view, “Kyla!” He yelled. He sounded frantic, like he did that night she’d left via the balcony. He was out of view again.
Panic rose. Something in her body started to buzz and pulse. It was a weird sensation. If he knew where she was would she be safe if he opened the door? She’d rather Sam was here to help, if need be. But why would Sam even help her? He wouldn’t care if Tristan killed her, would he? The weird bass-like thrumming inside her got more intense.
His fear-filled face struck something deep inside her; she couldn’t let him freak out and wonder where she was. She hit the intercom button,
“Tristan, it’s okay.”
“Kyla?” He was back in view of the camera. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked toward the camera.
“I’m in the panic room. Stay where you are. Don’t come in yet. I have to talk to you.”
“What?” He looked confused. He headed toward the closet.
“No Tristan, please!” She screamed, her voice ringing with terror.
He stopped cold in his tracks, “What? What’s wrong?”
”You weren’t you. You were gonna hurt me.”
His brows furrowed, “I what?”
“Listen. Please listen. Just wait for Sam to get here. He’s on his way.”
“Sam? Huh?” Tristan shook his head hard, like he was trying to shake something off.
“Please, Tristan. Trust me. Just wait. I’m pretty sure you were going to kill me. Let me stay in here until Sam gets here. I called him from your phone. I got my period. Something about that blood, I think, I think it set you off. It was bad. You went cold and gray and your eyes turned black. You tasted it and then… ” She heard loud knocking, “Get that; it’s Sam.”