It's hard to believe that I'm already here, Chapter Thirteen. And this story isn't even close to being over. I have so many other things that need to happen. I'm contemplating a sequel, but I doubt it'll happen. School is about to start again and I'll be pressed for time with this one without adding another story to figure out.

I have finally finished my Draco and Hermione one-shot. Pages kept on pouring from my pen and I worried it would be too long. Eventually, they decided to leave and live their lives away from readers' eyes. I was on a deadline: my sister's birthday. I stayed up to four in the morning several times writing and trying to finish it before it was too late.

Check out The Green Dress; it's in my stories. : )

Chapter Thirteen

Derek and I were sitting on the loveseat watching television, my legs thrown across his lap. He flipped through the channels at such a slow pace that made me want to grab the remote from his hand. I resisted the urge and leaned my head over the armrest.

"Nothing's on, D. Why don't you put in a movie?" I suggested.

"But…"

"But what?"

"The movie cabinet is aaaalll the way over there," he complained.

I stared at the upside down room and sighed.

"You mean the four or five feet of walking?" I asked.

"More like miles."

"Fine, I'll get one," I said, rolling off the loveseat and landing on my feet.

I padded to the cabinet and browsed the movies. I heard him get up and come to join me; he put his head on mine and looked at the movies.

"What, it's not too far now that I'm up?"

I felt him nod. I pursed my lips and said nothing. He grabbed a movie at random and went to put it in the player. I claimed my seat again and watched him hunt for the DVD remote. It was rather amusing.

Ten minutes later, with the device in hand and the movie playing, he plopped down beside me. I threw my legs over his again.

"Took you long enough," I remarked teasingly.

He huffed. "Well, maybe you should have helped me and then it wouldn't have taken so long."

I nodded. "Maybe."

He sighed and I chuckled as the room went dark and then glowed with the flickering light from the television. I glanced out the window and could barely see the trees in their yard; night had taken over and the moon began its ascent.

We watched in silence as the leading man fell down a ravine and laid there for hours.

"What was he doing walking there at night anyways? He should have known he would have fallen," Derek stated.

I hummed in agreement and continued watching. Someone was going to find him within minutes. Sure enough, the fire department and paramedics stumbled across him just as he was beginning to lose hope. He was saved and recovered beautifully months later. He would get the girl and they would live happily ever after. What a load of bullshit.

"Does every movie these days have to be clichéd?" I asked.

Although I had meant it to be rhetorical, Derek answered. "That's what the public demands. If they weren't, no one would watch them."

"I suppose. But take The Skeleton Key for example. It wasn't clichéd and it did all right. It wasn't a big box office hit, but it sold its fair share. I love that movie just for the fact that everything turns out differently from what you expect."

"Yes, that movie was brilliant, but people don't enjoy those kinds of movies. They like the ones where the man and woman kiss, walk hand-in-hand into the sunset, have two-point-five children, and live happily ever after. That's the way it's always been and always will be."

"People need to get new ideas of what is enjoyable."

"Perhaps. But who's to say that those movies aren't aesthetically pleasing and enjoyable? Those who like that kind of movie find them entertaining. Just because we view it differently doesn't mean they're wrong and we're right."

I didn't comment, just watched the leading man and lady share a romantic kiss in the rain. Half an hour later, credits rolled up the screen and Tim walked in the room.

"Care to join us, Tim? We were about to put in another movie."

He looked at me and then at Derek before shrugging. "Why not?"

As he was heading to the armchair, Derek spoke.

"Wait! Before you sit, dad, grab a movie."

"You lazy bum," I said, smacking his shoulder lightly.

He smiled at me and stuck out his tongue.

"Immature as well," I remarked.

Tim returned the disc to its case and replaced it with another.

"What did you put in?" Derek asked as his father made his way to the chair and sat down.

"Only the greatest trilogy ever created. Starring the greatest actor ever born," he hinted.

Derek and I glanced at each other, sharing a smile. My theory was beginning to gain some ground. Then we groaned simultaneously.

"Not The Matrix dad. Why must you subject us to that torture?" he asked.

"Seriously, Tim. Do we have to watch it every time I come over? Couldn't we skip just it this once?"

Tim sighed, long and suffering, and then pushed himself from the chair and ejected the disc.

"Oh, thank heavens!" D exclaimed dramatically.

"All right, enough of that," Tim ordered. "What movie do you two want to watch then, since my choice isn't good enough?"

"Romance," Derek said.

"Comedy," I suggested the same time as D.

"Romantic comedy, it is," Tim announced, pulling out a case with a flourish.

He popped in the movie and settled once again in his armchair.

I laughed, Derek cried, and Tim watched on in horror as the leading man revealed to his fiancée that he was, indeed, sterile. She slapped him as her make-up ran down her face with her tears.

"How you find that amusing, Kyr, is beyond me," Derek said as he wiped his eyes.

"I suppose I do have a twisted sense of humor."

"Twisted? Try sick and perverse."

I chuckled. "Perhaps."

Eventually, the fiancée realized that she had behaved irrationally and if she truly loved him, they would work through it. They visited a doctor and he was able to create some miracle cure for the leading man's sterility. I sighed angrily as the priest announced them man and wife and they kissed passionately yet chastely. How two people could kiss 'passionately yet chastely' was beyond me and I was beyond caring.

People gathered in the road as the newly weds drove off into the sunset. Then the credits rolled. What the director failed to put was that the size zero wife bloated to a size sixteen after their third child. Moreover, that the husband grew tired of his no longer model-sized wife and had an affair with his twenty-year-old secretary.

Maybe I was a bit bitter when it came to the clichéd movie ending, but I held fast to my beliefs that a leading character could die without it ruining a good story. Books were the same way. Why couldn't an author kill off the main character and replace them with another?

It was nearing midnight and Derek was growing tired, so we bid his father good night and headed to his room. He retrieved from their laundry room a fold away bed and covers. I helped him set it up and make the bed. Afterwards, I grabbed my bag and headed to the bathroom to change.

I slipped out of my clothes and, before changing into shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, I undressed my wound. It was an angry color and throbbed as the gauze was removed. I swabbed it down with alcohol and waited for it to dry. As I did, I studied my reflection. I kept the necklace on but took off the headband and combed my hair over the gash.

I carefully dressed my arm with fresh gauze and secured it. I pulled on my clothes and shoved everything back in my bag before washing my face and going back to Derek's room. He was lying on his bed when I stepped through the door. I smiled at him as I replaced my bag in the corner and turned down the covers on my bed.

As I laid down, he flipped off the light and threw us into darkness only illuminated by the moonlight.

"Good night, hon. Pleasant dreams."

"Night, D. Don't let the bedbugs bite," I replied.

He turned on his side and was asleep in mere minutes. I closed my eyes and listened to the soothing music of Derek breathing peacefully to my right. It had been a while since I had stayed at his place. As well as lying down to sleep and not having to worry about LeAnn. I cherished the feeling.

I situated my right arm above my head and the other on my stomach. Snatches of what Derek said in the kitchen earlier played in my head. "Crushing on Edward." I had just barely realized it before my friends did.

Crushing on him seemed so juvenile and liking just didn't fit for how I felt about him. Moreover, I sure didn't love him. It was far too soon for that. I sighed quietly; there was no category for my feelings at the moment.

I liked Edward Cullen. The most unattainable boy in school. The boy that Isabella Swan had gotten. The boy that had lost her and dropped out of school due to his grief. The boy who talked to no one besides his family and now me. The gorgeous boy who was so out of my league it wasn't funny.

What was I doing liking Edward Cullen?

I sat up and looked at Derek's clock. An hour had passed and I still didn't feel the least bit like sleeping. I stood slowly as the old bed liked to groan and squeak when it moved. I succeeded in silently extracting myself from the bowed bed and went to sit in his armchair. I folded my legs beneath me and laid my head on my arm, staring out the window.

The moon shone dimly and I could see everything perfectly. Trees swayed in the wind and brown leaves fell from near-bare branches. Birds had long migrated to warmer climates and summer animals had burrowed snugly in the ground. No rain fell, although clouds covered half the sky.

I looked on with chagrin. The scene out Derek's window was beautiful. Though it did have a melancholy shade to it. Winter meant everything slowing down and dying. It portrayed the dormancy of the world writers and artists for centuries have tried to capture unsuccessfully. I sat there, awed by the simplicity of a winter night's beauty and charm.

No words could describe the peace that overcame me. I stayed there in front of the window for hours admiring the night scene. Finally, when my eyelids began to droop, I stood reluctantly and silently reclaimed the bed. I fell asleep with the trees and clouds in my mind's eye. However, unfortunately, the serenity of the night did not invade my dreams.

I was swimming in a lake that was bathed in ivory moonlight. Turning to float on my back, I felt the chilled wind blow over my exposed skin. My bikini didn't provide much protection and soon my flesh broke out in goose bumps. The wind died down and I was able to float along comfortably.

Grey clouds drifted across the sky, occasionally covering the moon and plunging the woods into darkness. These eclipses happed infrequently, but when they did, my eyesight remained sharp enough to see everything perfectly. The trees were bare and skeletal, the branches like skinned fingers reaching for the sky. Birds flitted from one to another as they called to each other and filled the woods with their trilling cacophony. Other than the birds, no animal made its presence known. They were quiet and kept to themselves.

Hours later, I emerged from the lake, water dripping from me. No scar or deformity marred the expanse of my flawless skin and I ran my hands down my sides, sluicing water off my body. I began to travel around the edge of the lake, watching the moonlight upon the ripples.

Halfway around the circle, I tilted my head to the side; the water should have been still. I had gotten out long enough ago for the water to have settled. My gaze followed the movement of the circles and landed upon a head of hair in the middle of the lake. It bobbed up and a face emerged.

"Kyra!" it yelled.

I had no idea who this person was, but I had the intense determination to rescue her. She depended on me and I wasn't about to let her down. I would save her even if it meant sacrificing my own life.

She went below the water but her hands broke the surface and grasped at the air. I stood rooted to the spot and watched in horror as the person flailed her arms and pushed her head up.

"Kyra, help!"

I ran in the lake, barely registering the water splashing at my calves, knees, waist, and then shoulders. I swam towards her, hoping that I wouldn't be too late. I was reaching for her when a dark-skinned young man appeared and towed her backwards.

I treaded water and watched for a moment before lunging at them. I was going to save her, not this stranger. His dark hair clung to his face and black eyes stared out from sunken eye sockets. He bared his teeth at me and growled.

The man wasn't saving her; he was taking her away from me. I stared at the man warily but continued swimming; he had the girl, there was no way I was going to be easily scared away. He reached the shore and cradled her in his arms, as one would do a child. I was still yards from the shore and I knew if I didn't hurry, he was going to disappear into the woods.

I kicked frantically but it seemed to get me nowhere; the man and the shore didn't come any closer. I was stuck in the water. I screamed; no words, just noise. I thrashed against the bonds holding me in place and finally broke through. The shore snapped to me in a startling speed and in seconds, I was on land.

The man turned from me and I realized he was from the Indian Reservation, a Quileute. I snarled at him and lunged. He dodged smoothly and took off through the trees. I followed after him, my feet barely touching the ground. I tore through leafless branches, trampled dead shrubbery, and bounded over rocks in my quest.

The Quileute remained in my vision as I pursued them. I chased him through the endless expanse of forestry. He veered sharply to the left and my heart jumped to reside in my throat as I lost him. Relief flooded me when I caught sight of him again shortly after. The game of cat and mouse ensued for more than an hour, with me growing increasingly tired. If I didn't catch up soon, I was going to lose them.

A branch snagged my top and ripped it from my body. I didn't care; I was intent on saving the girl. Modesty was nothing compared to that. Over an hour later, the man jumped into the air and landed on the other side of a line of trees. I continued running, determined to catch up and save this stranger, to whom I was oddly drawn.

I broke through the trees and into a clearing. Breathing heavily, but no longer tired, I glanced around searching for some sign of the Quileute. There was nothing. I was walking further into the meadow when someone stepped from the trees on the other side. Halting, I stared at them. The moonlight bounced off their skin, causing it to shimmer softly.

I gazed at the person and noticed with shock that it was Edward. With even more alarm, I remembered my lack of a top and quickly crossed my arms over my chest. My arm throbbed and I looked down to see a long gash sealed with stitches. My eyes widened as I took it in and then noticed a fresh burn scar on my chest. It rubbed against my bare arms and I raised my head to look at Edward.

He walked slowly into the clearing as he stared at me. Shame flooded my veins as he gazed at my deformities. What must he think of them? Surely that they marked me as some ghastly girl never to be truly loved.

I was exposed to him. I wanted to die; right then and there. But the girl. She needed to be rescued. I couldn't do that, someone else had to. I was weak and unable to protect her, how would I be able to bring her back? I had failed her. I deserved to die.

I slumped to the ground under Edward's intense golden gaze and looked up at him pitifully. My hair had dried during my run and it now blew around my head and in front of my face. As he neared me, Edward began to unbutton his shirt. I watched him in confused fascination.

Pulling it from his pants, he slid his arms from the sleeves and when he halted a foot from me, he held it out. I shifted my arms and, sure I was covered with just one, I reached for his shirt hesitantly. He smiled at me softly and I wrapped my fingers around the material of his shirt.

He turned around and I stared at his bare back a moment before slipping the shirt on and buttoning it. The moment I pushed the last button through its hole, he turned around and held his hand out to me. I gazed up at him confused and he dropped his hand, keeling down in front of me. He lifted his hand again and this time, he brushed hair out of my face. I met his eyes and leaned into his touch.

He moved in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead before he got to his feet. With one last smile, he turned and walked back to the spot where he had emerged, disappearing. I watched him go with intense agony and while I wanted to follow after him, I was unable. I was held fast to the ground as if roots wound around my legs and secured me. Wind blew harshly, whipping my hair across my face and biting into my exposed torso.

Looking down, I saw my bare skin and realized with shock that Edward's shirt was gone. I held my arms out and gazed at them. The stitched injury was no longer there, instead, my arms were covered with crescent shaped wounds and the fresher ones oozed green liquid. I gasped and hugged them to my chest again.

The roots retracted and I scrambled to my feet, finding myself in the middle of the lake where I had begun my chase. My head went under and I gasped, swallowing water. Breaking the surface, I sputtered and choked before getting air. I treaded water while I gathered my wits and then started for the shore. Fingers grabbed my ankle and jerked me down. Gasping in surprise, I swallowed water again and kicked at the hand. When the tentacles slipped from me, I pushed for the surface. Grasping at water and air, my hand hit a branch and I gripped it frantically.

The hand returned along with a burbling cackle. It pulled and tugged at me, screeching its laughter, but I wouldn't release the branch. It was my lifeline; without it, I would be dragged under. More slimy fingers wound around my other ankle and yanked me under. My head went below the surface and I fought to hold my breath.

I looked at my pale hands glowing in the moonlight. My fingers were slipping and I was barely hanging on. If something didn't give, I was going to lose myself. My left hand lost its grip on the branch and the lake drained away around me. It swirled in circles, tugging at me, willing me to go down with it. Then I was suddenly hanging far above the ground.

I was still holding myself with my right hand, but no longer on the branch. In its place was a dismembered arm. It shimmered and the fingers twitched before the wrist snapped back to snatch at me. I screamed yet no sound emitted. Only a gurgling akin to water flowing down a drain escaped my mouth.

I looked below me and saw Edward standing there. He was smaller than the size of a nickel; I was that high in the air. I stared at him in horror as he extended his arms. I heard his mellifluous voice in my head.

When you're no longer able to hang on, I'll catch you. But keep hanging on, Kyra, I'll wait patiently. I'm not going anywhere.

I adjusted my grip on the moving arm and warily watched the fingers. They were trying to get at me. I kept my distance from them, for I knew if they were to reach me, they would claw at my eyes. Rip my lips from my face. Tear open my stomach and burrow in my intestines.

I whimpered piteously and swung my other hand up to grip the arm. I wasn't going down without a fight. I had lived with LeAnn all my life; I was tough and able to survive anything.

The girl from the lake flashed through my mind and I froze. No matter how strong I was, I couldn't subsist through that. My grip grew weak and I felt myself slipping. I shifted my hands and body weight, trying to alleviate some of the pain blossoming in my shoulders. It was no use, I was beginning to lose it; I wouldn't be able to hang on much longer.

Hours, days, weeks, possibly years passed and still I continued hanging on; I fought with everything I had. But even that proved not to be enough. My fingers slid from the slick arm and I fell through the air, screaming my gurgling shriek.

I was days falling to the ground. During that, I realized why I had such a raging protectiveness towards the stranger from the lake. I knew who she was. Still gurgling, I landed in the outstretched arms of Edward. He smiled down at me and cradled me to his chest. His voice resounded through my head.

You didn't believe when I told you I would be here. Have I finally proved to you the intensity of my feelings?

I nodded and snuggled my head against his bare chest. Casting a quick glance at myself, I found myself once again wearing his shirt. His gentle grip turned bruising and, frightened, I raised my head.

Edward smiled cruelly at me and his skin split at his lips. It rolled up his face and peeled back to reveal the Quileute. I screamed, this time piercing and blood curdling, and, turning to tatters Edward's shirt with his nails, he threw me in the air. I fell, flailing my arms and legs, and landed in the lake. Water splashed up and as it descended, it turned into blood. Thick, warm, pulsing blood.

It soaked into the strips of white shirt, turning it dark crimson, and made a mockery of Edward's kind gesture. It filled my mouth and I choked, watching blood spatter from my lips. It crept up my nose and all I could smell was the salty, metallic zing. It covered my eyes and pushed against them until my eyes were swimming in blood. It trickled into my ears and forcefully pressed against my eardrums until they burst and then flooded into my brain.

It was taking over me, filling me with its warmness. Soon, my body would reach its limit and still the blood would flow through me. It would push at my skin from the inside until my flesh broke and blood gushed out. I would be a gory explosion of someone else's blood.

My eyes shot open and I gasped for air, receiving none. Picturing blood gurgling in my throat, I calmed myself with considerable force and relaxed my neck muscles. I breathed in, shallow and erratic, looking at Derek's wall. Turning over, I repressed a scream. Derek was smiling broadly at me an inch from my face.

"Morning!" he exclaimed.

My heart raced and I pulled my head away from his. I stared at him with wide eyes and didn't say anything in return.

"Kyr, hon, you all right?"

I nodded and brushed my damp hair back.

He gasped and narrowed his eyes at my forehead. Oh, shit.

"What happened?" he demanded.

I rolled over on my back and stared at his ceiling. I raised my injured arm above my head and quickly ran through what I should tell him.

Sighing, I decided on, "I was picking up glass along the road and I tripped, falling down the ditch. In the process, I managed to slice my head open."

I glanced at him and saw that he was buying it. I hated myself so intensely at that moment I wanted to run in front of a bus. I wished I could tell him the truth. But I knew I couldn't jeopardize Kyle like that.

Derek reached up and lightly ran his finger along the edge of the gash. "It's pretty deep. You might need stitches."

My shoulders slumped and I sighed quietly. I should have gotten Dr. Cullen to do that when he finished my arm. Now I'd have to wait until I went back next week.

If I returned next week, that is. That dream…it had something to do with the Cullens, far more than the mere appearance of Edward, of that I was sure. The blood. I shivered and closed my eyes. It had enveloped me like a blanket. A blanket that wrapped around me with the intent of winding along my neck and cutting off my life. I coughed, the memory of it forcefully gushing down my throat fresh in my mind.

A sudden knock on the door had me jumping and envisioning the young Quileute barging in and flinging me through the window. Glass creating even more cuts on my arms and legs as Derek watched on mortified and confused.

"You kids hungry?" Tim's voice, muffled by the door, called.

My breath left me in relief and I relaxed against the pillow. Derek looked at me questioningly and I shook my head, both as the refusal to food and the plea for him to let my behavior go without investigation.

"Yeah, breakfast for one," he called in answer to his father.

"What? Kyra not up for the traditional, complimentary Stints breakfast?" Tim teased.

I shook my head and Derek answered for me. Tim went away and Derek stared at me concerned.

"You're trembling, what happened last night?" he asked.

He knew of my recent inability to fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time. It seemed to be getting worse with each passing month. Apparently, he thought something occurred to me while I was awake to cause this behavior.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "Nothing happened."

Silence. Then, "A dream then. Hon, what did you dream?"

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Swallowing thickly, I brokenly related my dream, "Water. Turning into blood. Infecting me with its warmness. Thick and pulsating. Creeping along my insides as I floated there, defenseless. A girl…" My brows came together as I tried to remember who she was. "I knew her, but I don't now. Drowning, then taken away from me. Running, chasing. Breaking through trees into a meadow. Rooted to the ground; unable to stand."

I stopped and turned wild eyes to Derek. I neglected the fact that Edward had played a major part. I didn't even want to tell him what I had; I felt as if I owed him, though. I had lied once again about LeAnn; he deserved to know something.

He breathed through his mouth quietly and stared at me in horror.

"There's more," he stated. Not a question; he knew I was withholding.

I shook my head. "I don't remember the rest. Mostly the blood," I lied.

I didn't wish to, but I recalled in perfect detail every second of that macabre nightmare. I wanted to scour the walls of my mind with alcohol and erase it from memory.

He nodded and wrapped his arm around my middle, pulling me to his chest. I rested my head on his shoulder and I gave up trying to repress the shudders. I shook uncontrollably and vaguely felt embarrassed for losing it in front of Derek. I gasped loudly through my mouth, trying to get enough oxygen in my lungs.

Derek didn't say a word, merely held me and rubbed my back with his large hand. He pressed his face into my hair and I occasionally felt him stroke it with his other hand.

Some time later, my breathing began to even out though I continued to shake. While I had let my horror run its course, it was about time I took control again. I stopped breathing and then restarted again in a normal rhythm. I held myself completely still and soon Derek halted his hands. I raised my head and met his anxious eyes.

I smiled to show him I was back to normal. He returned it hesitantly and kissed my forehead.

"Good. You up for some breakfast now? Well, technically lunch."

I nodded and he released me before pushing himself back and rolling off the bed. It groaned in protest as it lost his weight and the bow regained some of its body. He walked around to my side and bent down; pushing his arms underneath me, he picked me up, bridal style.

Instead of protesting, I wound my arm around his neck and rested my head in the crook of his neck. It was nice to have someone else carrying some weight, if only for a moment and metaphorically. He paused in front of the door and I raised my head and freed my arm to open it for him. He smiled in thanks and continued on to the kitchen.

Tim was sitting at the island, drinking tea and reading a book. An empty plate sat at his elbow as well as a half-empty glass of orange juice. He looked up as we entered and, smiling, he shook his head. Derek deposited me beside his father and went to fix himself a plate.

"You're about two hours late; it'll be cold now," Tim told Derek.

He just shrugged and piled bacon, sausage, pancakes, and French toast on his plate. I watched him in avid fascination; he ate more at one sitting than I did in a day. Tim noticed my stare and marked his place before closing his book.

"If you want, I'll make something else. No need to starve yourself just because you don't want what's prepared," he said.

"Thanks, but I'm not that hungry at the moment. Give it a few hours and then I will be."

He nodded and slid from the stool to wash his plate and glass. Behind his back, I pointed to the patio door. Derek nodded with a fork in his mouth and picked up his plate to follow me. Opening the door, the chilled wind ruffled my hair and whipped tendrils across my face. It smelled like the changing of seasons, cold with a hint of remaining warmth and a waft of dusty antiquity.

I went to stand at the edge of the raised patio, wrapping my arms around my abdomen. I gazed at the balding trees and imagined running through them in a bikini. The sun peeped through the clouds and briefly blazed down on Derek and me. I cast my eyes down at the ground feet below and looked at the dying grass.

"I'm guessing you wanted to talk?"

I nodded without turning to face him.

"That…nightmare," I said, although it was much more than a mere nightmare. I would rather have a dozen nightmares than ever experience that one again.

"It…terrified me," I admitted reluctantly.

"You terrified me this morning, Kyra. I've never seen you like that. You're always so strong and confident. Seeing you shaking and working for air, it made me want to erase your memory of that dream."

My eyes closed. It was worse than I thought. I had shown weakness when all that he had known of me was unwavering strength. Why had I told him?

I didn't respond; just watched colors dance across my eyelids. A flash of red brought my mind back to the lake of blood. Bursting my eardrums, crushing my eyeballs, assaulting my nostrils. The feeling was so intense it was as if it were happening all over again. I clutched at my head and doubled over. My eyes snapped open and I saw crimson. I heard a rushing roar in my ears and I smelt the scent of freshly spilt blood. The sensation of pulsing blood ran over my body and I envisioned myself once again in the lake of blood.

I choked and gasped, clawing at my eyes. I could handle the sound and odor but the sight was too much. Whichever direction I cast my eyes, all I saw was pulsating red. I tried to scream but all that reached my ears was an oceanic rumble. I was lost to the tide of crimson rushing through me.

I wanted to die. I would take LeAnn dragging the shard of whiskey bottle through my arm any day over this torment. Everyone fled my mind and I focused on myself for the first time ever. I would merrily climb the highest cliff in the world just to throw myself off once I reached the top.

My fingernails scratched over my open eyes and trailed down my cheeks. I wanted to pull my eyes out so I wouldn't have to witness the blinding red. I hated myself at that moment. I believed everything LeAnn had ever spat at me. I was just as ugly and unloved as she told me. Why else would this be happening to me?

Hours later, it seemed as if the crimson was retreating. The roar subsided faintly and the odor lessened. Fraction by fraction, the blood drained away and left me wobbling from the sudden vertigo.

"…me! Kyra, please."

I blinked and squinted as the bright sun shone in my eyes. I glanced around me, taking everything in. My eyesight seemed heightened, if only slightly. As well as my other senses that had been under the enchantment. My eyes lighted upon Derek and I gazed at him.

He sighed in evident relief. "You scared me for the second time, Kyra. What happened?"

I blinked. "What do you mean what happened?" I asked.

His brows furrowed and he looked confused. "You jerked and then stood completely still. I've been trying to get your attention for about half a minute."

Not even a full minute? It had seemed to last an eternity. The agony…my body remembered the pain and rejected the mere thought of it. I hesitantly lifted a trembling hand to my face. No raised flesh had joined my other wounds. I had not marked my own face in my fit of anguish. How?

"Still? I stood still," I repeated flatly.

Derek nodded hesitantly. "What's going on, Kyra?" he asked.

I raised my gaze from my curled hands to him; they trembled as I answered.

"I don't know," I whispered brokenly.

He had set his plate on the table some time earlier and now rushed unhindered to me. He gathered me in his arms and I buried my face in his chest. I was losing my mind; that was the simplest explanation.

"You're not going crazy," Derek said, stroking my hair.

I had spoken aloud and not even realized it. One of the most common signs. I stared out at the trees, barely registering that I gripped him to the point of upsetting my arm. He was my rock and didn't even know it. Of course, on Monday I would go back to being my own support. But for the moment, I could cling to him and not worry about losing my grip because he would be holding me.

"Kyr, let up," he suddenly said, "You're squeezing me. Tightly."

I released him immediately and took a step back, staring up at his face. I had never hurt him before, what was with him now? He looked as confused as I felt, staring down at me and rubbing his sides. He winced and I wanted to cry; I had just hurt my best friend.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," he told me.

I nodded and dropped my gaze to his chest. After soothing the sores that I had done with my own hands, he turned and went back to his plate of food. I sighed and sunk to the edge of the patio, my feet dangling over the side. My hands rested limply in my lap and I stared at my fingers. Derek sat beside me and ate his breakfast.

I didn't look up when he later set his plate on the floor beside him, nor when he turned his attention to me. I continued studying my hands. My skin was smoother, softer. Prettier. A few more shades paler and I would resemble a china doll. I raised my head and briefly met Derek's gaze before staring at the trees. Soon he followed my lead and turned away from me.

I bit my lip, sucking on my lip ring.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I said.

"Nothing's wrong with you, hon, your subconscious is just trying to tell you something."

Falling from the dismembered arm into the blood instead of Edward's arms flashed in my mind and I shivered.

"My subconscious is rather demented then."

We sat in silence and looked out into the woods. The trees danced to a wind that failed to reach us and leaves swirled to the ground. Shadows flitted to and fro, acting as the energetic base line to the show.

"Are you sure you don't remember the rest of your dream?" Derek asked softly.

My heart stuttered and I glanced at him. So he didn't believe me after all. No surprise there, I had to admit. I hadn't exactly done my best to convince him earlier.

"It might give some clues as to what your subcon is telling you," he added.

I nodded absently; I was lost in my own thoughts. If it meant something, then what? What was it trying to tell me? That I was going to die in a lake of blood soon? The girl…she wasn't too young, not childlike. Only two years or so younger than I. What part did she play in all of this? Symbolizing myself? That I'm unable to save myself at the moment? That I'm slowly losing myself and no one's there to help me?

I dropped my head to my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. I was really losing it, wasn't I?

Derek slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him; I dropped my hands and rested on his shoulder. I wasn't alone; I had Derek and Angela. And maybe Edward and Jasper? Of course, I wouldn't tell them the main problem in my life; I couldn't. They would just have to blindly hold me up. Thankfully, I knew they would.