Before you kill me for not updating in . . . well, a while, then I'll apologize now. I've been lazy, and spent most of my time either a) watching Sherlock (TV series) or b) reading the Hunger Games. Basically, I have been doing nothing social or creative while spending my time on said obsessions.
The good news is, I've finally got off my ass (figuratively of course. I'm actually laying on my bed -_-) and written a new chapter. Yay!
So enough rambling. Here it is!

Chapter 25: Proving a point

I scratched absentmindedly at the small charm on my leather bracelet. I'd been picking at it for almost half an hour now, and the silver paint had chipped off on one point of the little pentagram. It had been Star's before she'd run away, and David, with no one left to give it to, had handed it down to me. It was pretty but was too personal for my taste. Or maybe I was just kidding myself; after all, I was the only girl left now that Star had run away with some Michael guy when we'd killed Max. David hadn't thought that bit through and was pretty pissed when he found out, but Marko, the optimist, had told him to let them run. We could always find them later.

My mind wandered to my mother, as it often did these days. I looked up at the shaded windows of my old home and sighed. Unbeknownst to me, when I had killed Maria and my mother had died, I could not enter my house. I was a vampire and there was no one left to invite me in. It was sad at first, realizing that I would never again walk those halls and sleep in that bed and sit by that fire, but I'd grown used to it. Now I just sat on the wall outside and stared longingly at the unhappy remnant of some past life, my only attachment to the human world. It would be better if I forgot about it, and never returned. But somehow I would always find myself coming back again. I tried to forget. I tired to cut myself off from my old life.

But it never worked.

For the first few weeks Marko would come with me on these visits, but about four months ago he'd stopped coming. That was when he realised that this was something I saved for me and me alone. I didn't want anyone else wallowing in my memories, especially when they didn't belong. My mother was my past. Marko is my present. I didn't want to blur the lines between the two any more than I already had.

The corner of my mouth twitched as I was brought back to awareness by a cloud of smoke passing over my face. David was sat next to me, puffing on a cigarette. I resisted the impulse to throttle him.

"What do you want?" I asked curtly.

"Always so cold," said David and blew smoke into my face again.

I ignored him and continued to stare up the house, hoping he'd get the subtle hint and leave. He sat there for a minute and then stood up. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come for a walk with me," he said.

"I don't really feel like it," I said as I watched him drop his cigarette and grind it under his boot.

"You're daydreaming, wallowing in the past. At least do something healthy with your time," he replied, motioning for me to follow him. He walked away.

I got slowly to me feet and drifted to the street corner where he was waiting patiently.

"What do you want, David?" I repeated, fatigue seeping into my voice. I hadn't been able to sleep properly for months and my lack of sleep was really beginning to catch up with me.

"I want to talk to you," he said.

"Well say what you've got to say and then we can go home."

"Walk with me."

I sighed. "I am walking with you."

He ran a hand through his blonde hair and turned to look at me. "Did you tell Marko that I compelled you to stay still and kissed you?"

I felt something snatch my willpower away from me.

"Yes." I hated him. I hated the fact that he could make me do whatever he wanted. I hated him for guessing my actions exactly.

I hated everything about him.

"Thought so," he said coolly. "Was his reaction good?"

He didn't compel me this time, so I just glared at him.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm going to bet on him putting up a good fight, too. Too bad it won't be enough."

"Oh, yeah. Your fight for my love. You're forgetting the fact that I could watch you die and enjoy every moment of it."

I was pushing it – lying, even – and he could see that. David laughed and looked down at me fondly.

"You'll learn to love me eventually."

I didn't bother to even open my mouth. He knew what I had to say to that.

The sky was clear and you could see the stars, which was nice. But I missed the sun. I missed the warm, familiar feel of it on my skin. I missed being human.

And he knew it.

"Nice weather recently, huh? Clear blue skies, not a cloud in sight . . . I bet you miss that."

Of course he did.

"Look, if you're here to torment me then forget it. I don't have time for you and your stupid remarks," I said. "I'm going."

"But I don't want you to go." I felt the familiar tug in my mind that confirmed this as an order, and not an innocent comment.

"I want to stop."

I stopped.

"I want you to face me and look me in the eyes, and I want you to think about me. Only me."

Just as the power of his commandments faded, he breathed out and warm air brushed my face. I looked at him and found his cool blue eyes staring in to mine.

"Kiss me," he said. "You know you want to. Kiss me . . ."

I leaned in, enticed by his eyes and by the promise of his warm, moist lips. His mouth parted. I closed my eyes and reached up to kiss him, then felt my lips touch his as that hateful tug reminded me that my will was all but mine . . .

Except that it wasn't there.

I jerked back, surprised, and my mouth disconnected from his. Yet there was still no pull, nothing that made me stay. There hadn't been any pull since . . .

"I stopped compelling you when I told you to think about me," he said as if he'd read my mind. "I think you'll find that I do have a chance after all."

I tried to get angry, to search my memories for that elusive coercion that had made me kiss him. Except that it hadn't. Because when he'd told me I wanted him, there was no compulsion there. No tug. No pull. Nothing to make me do what I didn't want to do.

He hadn't come to force me to kiss him; no. He'd come here to prove a point.

And through my own stupid mistake, he had proved it.

Proved it well enough, at least, to make me reconsider everything I'd ever felt since the night I first met the Lost Boys.