All Chapters of Bloody Full Moon: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Laura - Mama’s RestaurantBogdan is speaking, but it's simply background noise to me. I can't focus on our chat or his thoughts anymore. Instead, I fix my focus on Paul, who begins flirting with that woman. Is he acting like this on purpose?Paul's hand grabs hers and gently kisses her fingers. She grins at him, leaning in and exposing her large breasts. It doesn't bother me since mine are perkier and bigger. But, to be honest, I do mind. To persuade myself, I keep telling myself that it does not.I resist the impulse to interfere and put myself between them. Or maybe I don't have to since Paul isn't staring at her anymore. No, his sight is drawn to mine and lingers. As if we were the only two people left on earth, I lose track of where we are and what I'm doing.B

Laura - Paul’s villaMy heart is in pain. I should be proud of how human I am, but instead, I feel foolish. What did I expect? To be able to tryst with him without any strings attached? That's not how it works.I can't help but think about him as I pace across my room. His mood swings irritate me. He follows me to the cemetery and says all those beautiful things. Then he pushes me away, booting me with three words I don't understand yet. "Not like this."Then he comes after me on my date with Bogdan. His heart beats faster every time he’s near me. When he kissed me, it wasn’t an act. That kind of passion and desire, no one can fake. As I remember everything, my strides increase and my nervousness reaches new peaks.The last several days have been filled

Laura - Bucharest’s suburbsPaul already had a letter of resignation on his desk awaiting my signature. But all the other paperwork had to be made as well. He preferred to keep me in his office and go back and forth between me and HR for all the formalities.I took it all in and kept silent all day, even in the car as he drove me to the city’s outskirts. Nice suburbs stretch at the borders of Bucharest, with fancy houses mixed with old ones in a combination of colors and styles.For a second, I want to be able to read his mind as easily as I do with humans. Upon realizing my wishes are pointless, I force myself to focus on the details of my surroundings.Paul stops his car in front of a one-story home with brown roof tiles. My childhood house was razed many y

Laura - The house in the suburbsWhen my grandfather died, I was too young to remember him. Everybody says he was tall and handsome. The women in the village swooned at the sight of him. People said he had a girlfriend back in his birth hamlet, but they were both poor.He married my grandmother even though she was already pregnant at the time with my father’s older brother. She had cows, land, and almost everything you can think of for those times, except for a noble title.After his death, people reported sightings of him strolling through the main street out of the village. The more courageous ones tried to approach him, but he wouldn’t look any other way than straight ahead. It was as if he was sleepwalking.They followed him into the next village, his birthplace. Every night he went to the same house, a modest cottage among fields. He cut wood, built a fire in the hearth, kissed the sleeping woman and child in the bedroom, and then returned to the cemetery to slide back into his t

Laura - The house in the suburbsThe first rays of the sun find me on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The carpet is fluffy and has the typical scent of old things. I can’t imagine how hard it was for Paul to find all these things for the house. But I guess he simply delegated someone to do it for him.I stand and look around. No, that’s not it. Everything falls into place in a natural, human-like way, not as a designer would envision it. Somehow, I bet he had personally overseen the renovation.My eyes stop over the backrest of the chair in the corner. Paul’s jacket is leisurely draped over it, a reminder that he was here last night. How can a person be both warm and cold at the same time? Do I have the strength to want to find out?The jacket compels me to go at it. At first, I just brush the soft material with my fingertips, not wanting to wrinkle it. But why would I care about a damn jacket that he left behind? I yank it from the chair and crawl onto the couch with it in my arms