Chapter 21 - Fear

My face was scrunched up in concentration, as I focused my undivided attention on my thumbnail. Ever so slowly, my right hand - holding the brush - approached. And just as it touched, and I moved to brush it over the nail, my brother decided to make his presence known.

'Boo.' He whispered into my ear. I screamed, which in my opinion was a perfectly acceptable reaction, given my current vampire predicament. Of course, Matt had no knowledge of this, and so I elicited a large bout of laughter from him. As my heart rate slowly returned to normal, my scream faded and transformed into a groan of anger.

'Look what you did!' I shrieked, pointing to the line of clear nail polish that streaked across the counter. I grabbed a tissue, wiping it off before it could dry, continuing.

'You better thank your lucky stars that it was the bench that got it, because you could have ruined my perfect nails.'

'Oh, what a tragedy that would have been.' He responded, earning him a glare.

'What are you here for anyway?' I asked, quickly packing up my nail stuff before something else could happen. Like me smashing a bottle on his head.

'Just checking you're still alive' he said, grinning, and ruffling my hair. I tried to school my face into a neutral expression as I ducked my head, leaning away out of his range. His words struck a chord in me; tomorrow there was high probability I wouldn't be.

As he left the room, I raised my hands admiring my handiwork. My nails were a glistening royal blue, with a coating of silver glitter. They looked like the sky; stars sparkling away in the night.

Paul's POV

'There is something seriously wrong with you man.' Jared said, as he lounged on Emily's couch, practically inhaling a packet of chips.

'Why?' I asked, frowning as a sudden bolt of sadness struck me, for no apparent reason. And then it was gone, like the wind had blown it away, and I was left smiling to myself as I stole a chip from Jared's rapidly dwindling supply.

'That's why. Did you see yourself just then? You went from normal, to sad, to happy in the space of 3 seconds. It's not normal.'

'I have to agree.' Quil inputted from his position by the table. I agreed with them.

There were mood swings, and then there was this. Normal people didn't change emotions as much as I had in the past few days. And most of the time it didn't even have a cause. It would just come over me. I could be having a ball, and the next minute I'd be staring gloomily at the floor.

It was driving me crazy.

'And that's not even considering your new obsession.' Jared continued. Nobody needed to be informed of what that obsession might be. My reaction towards Chloe Walker was just as confusing as my raging emotions. There was hardly ever a moment when there wasn't some part of my brain thinking of her.

At first I'd thought it was imprinting. But the amount of times I'd infuriated and attacked her made it plain that was not the case. I'd suffered hearing other's thinking of their imprints, and they felt nothing but love.

And there was Sam. He had ordered me with his deep, booming, double voice, that held the power of the alpha, not to see her again. Yet I had found myself at her house, watching her, without even deciding I was going there.

It shouldn't be possible, but it had happened all the same.

What the hell was going on?

Chloe's POV

Sleep eluded me.

I had kept myself as busy as possible, doing anything and everything to avoid having a spare moment to contemplate the future. Or rather, my lack thereof. I was zombielike in my effort to distract myself.

Going upstairs, going downstairs. Wandering the house aimlessly, straightening curtains and pillows, arranging magnets on the fridge, lining up my shoes. Sorting all my nail polish in colour order, folding all the sheets in the downstairs cupboard, turning all the mugs in the kitchen so that the handles were facing in the same direction. Making sure all the clocks in the house were perfectly synchronised, turning off the switches at all unused power points, and fussing around with anything I could get my hands on. I was a machine, a mindless robot. But it couldn't last, and around 8pm, the major freak out came, as I had known it would.

I was clad in my matching singlet and shorts pyjamas, standing in the doorway, staring miserably at my bed. For the first time in my life, I dreaded going to sleep. Because I knew with certainty that the moment I got in bed, my mind would run wild, my imagination conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios for the next 24 hours.

Yet I climbed in anyway, and I vented my fear and frustration by punching and screaming into my pillow, and violently throwing around my pillow and duvet, as image after image came surging at me.

Me, dead on the bathroom floor. Matt, finding my body in my closet. Blood, soaking into the couch as my life is sucked from me. My screams as I'm dragged from the house and through the woods. Dark, burgundy eyes, staring at me with hunger. Sharp teeth grazing my neck. A pale figure grabbing me from behind. Me, dead in a million different places, dying a hundred different ways, and repeatedly, the face of my brother when my body is found.

I am terrorised for what seems to be an eternity, before I can break momentarily from the frenzy that has consumed me. Stumbling downstairs, peeking around corners and looking behind me for any movement, any sound. Fingers fumbling for the sleeping pills that I so desperately need if I'm to survive the night. Glancing with despair and unseeing eyes at the microwave clock. 9.14.

Some distant part of my mind moans with dismay that the hours of torture have passed barely an hour, but I don't dwell on it. As I begin to fall prey once more to the haunting visions, I have only the brain power to focus on getting back upstairs.

For if Matt finds me like this, there is nothing I can say to explain my condition. I can only thank fate that tonight he isn't at home, to witness this.

With a long, slow rumble, a thunderous crack tore through the air. Jerked violently from my uneasy sleep, I lurched into a sitting position with a gasp. As the pitter patter of rain started up, I slowly came to my senses. Scrambling out of bed, I rushed to the window and drew back the curtains in time to see an almighty flash light up the sky.

I blinked frantically, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness that followed. By the looks of it, it was the middle of the night. I had only slept a few hours, if I was lucky. And after all that time spent lying in bed, even with a sleeping pill. I started as the reason I had taken it struck me. Glancing toward the alarm clock on my dresser, the glowing green numbers stared evilly back.

12.57.

As my brain finally started working at full speed, I glanced around my room uneasily, searching for my expected supernatural guest. There was no way I was going back to sleep now. Though I found no reason for concern, I couldn't prevent the fear I had been hiding for days now from filling me up.

I could feel my hands shaking, my legs trembling, as I clutched the window frame for support, my nails digging in as if holding on tight enough will keep me here, and save me from the monster that terrorises me.

Jumping as thunder once more booms through the air, and a strangled sob escapes my lips, as I stare out the glass.

I see it. Barely. It's just a flash, and I'm almost certain I imagined it. But the sight of the pale figure standing along the tree line strikes me like I've been tasered, and I yelp as I thrust myself away from the window. My hands are clasped over my mouth as I hold in my scream, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as my self control disintegrates.

I am gasping and hiccupping as I continue stumbling backwards, into a solid, cold object. I whirl around, expecting to see that I've staggered into my dresser.

Instead I find myself inches away from him.

My vampire, his hands grasping my shoulders to steady me as my breath whooshes out in a rush. Ice cold, deathly pale in the brief lightning flash that illuminates him. Eyes glinting, a sinister smile on his face. I want to scream, but I can't. I want to yank away, even though it would be pointless, but I can't. I am frozen.

I am rooted to the ground, mute, as his hand travels over my shoulder and sweeps my hair away from the left side of my neck. I feel a twinge as his hand rests behind my neck, and the last thing I'm aware of before I crumple is his whisper.

'I'm here.'