A/N: I guess I'll start by saying that credit goes to Stephanie Meyer for creating the characters.
I haven't written anything in years and now I'm trying to start over again. I wanted to test out a story on here. i don't know how long it will be nor do I know how often I can write and post but I will do my best to be consistent.
Please review this for me. I want to be a better writer and what other place to go than here?
Thank you for taking the time to read this!
Humdard: (Someone who shares my pain)
There was only one light on at the end of the hallway, casting a low yellow glow across. The house seemed so eerie, like something, or someone, was haunting every end of it; every corner was shadowed with darkness. Anxious, I tried to feel around me, tried to find something stable to keep me from hitting the ground. My fingertips barely grazed the walls while I put one foot in front of the other, creeping to the end of the hall.
A sudden gunshot startled me; its noise spreading through the empty house. Then another shot rang out, and then another, and another. I tripped over my feet, landing with a dull thud on the Persian carpet that covered the floor right in front of my parent's room. Just as I rolled back onto my knees, the door handle slowly turned.
My limbs froze, my breath hitched, and the small hairs on the back of my neck rose.
The door creaked open, letting a dark figure slowly step out. The smell of ash, gun powder, and the copper hint of blood flooded my nose.
He cocked his head to the side and chuckled, forever ingraining itself into my memory. He raised his left hand as if to help me up but instead forced me to stare down the barrel of his gun.
I woke up sweating, gasping for air. Fear and adrenaline ran through my veins. I panicked and wrestled with the sheets that tangled with my legs; proof of how disturbed my sleep was. Unnerved, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, and leaned my elbows onto my bare legs, wiping away the sweat that coated my face.
"Damn it," I mumbled to myself.
It was still dark outside, the moon shined bright into my room. Glancing at my phone, I realized that if I can't sleep at three in the morning, there's no point in making an effort. Groaning softly, I stood and grabbed my silk black robe from the foot of my bed and slipped it on over my tank top and underwear.
I walked barefoot across the dark cherry wood floor and padded down the stairs; my feet tapped lightly against each step. I kept a habit of leaving on small light on in every room. Living alone in a big city, with those memories constantly harassing me, left me conscious of my surroundings, even if I had my penthouse fitted with state of the art security systems, more so than what the building was already providing.
When I first moved here, the white walls dripped with heartbreak. For a while, I didn't dare add any pieces of myself, leaving the walls bare of any memories and color. Pain and desolation painted the walls instead, for me to drown in my past and my loss. Three years later, they were still coated with loneliness. The walls remained white but there was black and gold furniture and pieces to contrast it. Some darkness and richness to add color into my life. It's comfortable but it isn't a home. I lost that so long ago.
A small lamp in the foyer casted a small glow over the entire floor. Light enough for me to see out, dark enough that no one could really look in. The glow of city lights and the full moon brightened my apartment a bit more than the lamp, highlighting almost every feature.
My place was opened completely, allowing me to see every crook and crevice; nothing could hide in here without me seeing. Stainless steel appliances filled the kitchen. The windows touched from the floor to the ceiling, covering the entire wall facing Boston's Harbor, the expansive seaport, and the financial district.
Living in the Seaport of Boston gives me my dream view of the city. The breeze of the Boston harbor was refreshing every morning, and it wasn't far from my own office in the financial district. Even though it was so late into the night, the city still seemed so alive.
Staring out to the lights of Boston, I took the throw off the back of the couch and cuddled into the recliner facing the windows. I wrapped the blanket around me and laid back, amazed at how the brilliant lights looked like stars in the dark sky. The city masked the real ones up high in the sky but these were almost as beautiful. Sadly, they were never enough to distract me from my thoughts.
Fear is a strange thing. Sometimes it inspires me to beat it with so much passion. Sometime it makes me want to cower in the corner, away from any confrontation. Like I wasn't made to be in this world; at this position of power that virtually no one can touch me; nor can anyone understand me.
It's funny how these thought creep in at the worst time. All I wanted was to sleep through one night without waking up in fear. I was terrified of what would show up in my dreams if I did fall asleep.
Watching the city move and breathe made me envious. People my age were running around from clubs and bars, to each other's homes. They were having the time of their lives while I watched from the tall tower where they couldn't see me.
I envied it sometimes. They felt free enough to run around and be whoever they wanted. They weren't shivering in fear nor were they trapped to fill a mold. Maybe they didn't have any expectations to fill. They were free to meet someone, anyone, and just be with them in any way they wanted. Having someone to cuddle next to, to talk to about anything, to knowing that they would catch you every time you fall. Just the simple idea of someone to care for you and to cherish you.
But I didn't believe that was something for me. I already spent twenty four years without dating anyone. I spent the last three years without having any one around. I know it wasn't without the lack of many trying. My long dark brown and black hair complimented my tan skin, making people think I had something 'exotic' about me. I was once told that my hazel eyes were 'enchanting'. I took care of myself, for myself. I worked out every day at the gym to keep in shape and get rid of any unnecessary stress. I ate seemingly healthy and indulged once in a while.
There was a reason I was different. I lost my only family. I never had the urge to be in a relationship just to say I was. Even though sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in the pain of isolation. It felt too dangerous. Seeing the shrewdness and cruelty of the business world first hand meant that getting involved with anyone was too risky; for both my legacy and my heart. I would inevitably get hurt.
It's simple really. I don't let many people in, period. In my own home and comfort I'm shy and quiet. I spend my free time in the gym, reading novels, Nizar Qabbani, Rumi. I love watching movies and have a few TV shows that I follow. My social life is only limited to corporate events and society shit.
It is what it is. I built walls around me to keep myself safe. But sometimes I wondered if anyone could break through; if I wanted them to. Or if I could even break out.
In a way, there's nothing else I want from this world than to fall in love and to be loved. It's my greatest weakness, greatest secret, and my greatest moments of stupidity.
I relaxed further into the supple leather of the recliner. A few hours ticked by and finally the sky slowly started changing colors. Black to dark blue. Blue to purple. Eventually different shades of reds, oranges, and yellows coated the sky. The city was slowly becoming alive. I loved watching the sunrises anywhere.
When I was in college, I hiked up the mountains surrounding my small college town to watch the sunrise over the valley. A few friends that I had then dragged me to Cancun one Spring Break. I woke up early every day to walk down to the beach, put my headphones into my ears and watch the sun come up, painting the sky and the ocean different bright and brilliant colors. I want to be able to watch the sunrise in as many different places as possible.
When the sun was up high and the sky and the city began to breathe and move, I decided that staying up any longer was useless. My body was limp with exhaustion. Hopefully, that meant I could sleep more than just a few hours. Thankfully, tomorrow was Sunday and meant that I could sleep in for as long as I wanted.
I dropped the throw back on to the couch and walked back up the stairs. I tossed my robe back on to the bottom of my bed and climbed in between the cool sheets. Slowly, but surely the drowsiness began to take over. I rolled over to hug my body pillow to chest and sighed quietly once more before sleep took me away.
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