The silence, no longer is it devoured by taunts and warnings, peace has reclaimed its title of supremacy. Our hearts drum in a relaxed synchronization, and they share the dread slaughtering the calm atmosphere. We both acknowledge that David shall be arriving soon, yet we persist to sleep. We only persist to sleep so we can be rid of the ailing truth we are intelligent enough to fathom.

They didn't come tonight, just like Marko and Paul predicted. According to them, I have to trust and have faith in my mother, a duty that is complex due to the emotional strain I have felt for eight years and a decade. After eighteen years of breathing the same air I inhale and exhale every day for those eighteen years, the strain has only been alleviated slightly. For some outlandish reason, this tows a memory from my bank of recollections about my name choice.

If my mother had obtained her right to making a decision, I wouldn't be Sierra May Frog. Instead, I would be Violeta May Frog to endorse the memory of my Spanish maternal grandparents who my mother was estranged from for many years as she went against their faith which they were extremely critical about and other anonymous reasons my mother doesn't care to recall. That was the focal reason for a choice my mother hasn't informed me of. Delilah did before she left in 1984. The other trivial reason was because it was 1969, a conclusion of the decade my parent's continued to be attached to and reside in until recently, and Mom extracted the word Violet from it. This reflected flowers, thus, reflecting the natural beauty of Earth my parents were and carry on being so fanatical about. Though I admire nature, I don't go to the extents of adoration they do. The name choice of Violeta was soon shunned by my father, leading onto my mother opting for the name Sierra. To my mother's delight, the name Sierra is of Spanish origin. She hastily agreed with my father on this name in a sly method to get what she wanted due my father being oblivious to my mother's close hereditary or origins of names.

Coincidentally, this name displays my personality as my mother once told me people called Sierra are intensely shielding of their loved ones. Treachery impairs us in an emotional slaughter which reminds me of Dwayne's betrayal to my trust and the affects it had on me during the process where I was naive enough to believe I had feelings for him. He did it in such a way though that made it rational to have the opinion I was merely a bemused teenage girl. The power of it was so strenuous, I started falling for it.

Friendship is an important component in those named Sierra's lives and is respected to the highest regard. Linking to this respect showered over those we care for, the value of appreciation is favoured to be reciprocated with the same amount distributed from our side. Above all, we desire love. Whether my mother had a premonition of me as I am now is another matter, but it forces my mind to wonder. My mother, born as Petal Corona in the state of New York, became the heir to my grandmother's wisdom as she developed, so this further leaves the question of my mother sensing future events open for answering. It could be further defended by the words to describe Delilah's name – languished and weak – something that now makes me laugh due to the word choice accuracy echoing my older sister's personality.

Through all of my thoughts, Michael and I rest. We rest to forget, to savour every moment we can steal from this period in time that will conclude shortly. David will come soon; the blood that belongs to him streaming throughout my veins taunts me over this fact. Being in this agitated slumber is the only thing causing us to be tranquil. We have each other again, we are in each other's arms, and so, it composes us.

Hours before the weakening globe of blazing fire declined and the murky night engrossing the sky with its ally being the snow white moon gleaming over the flourishing citizens who are so innocently unaware of the children roaming the hours of darkness, the light originating from it being the hero inside scratching out to demolish the evil. The moon, it is always with us but shrouded by beaming shadows we entitle the sun's rays.

Once, I despised those shadows and favoured the opposite to them, the sincere shadows that depicted the true classification of the word. Now, I yearn for those shafts of light and wish to be unchained from their immoral twin which with the power of motivation, can be morphed into something kinder.

His calming gentle snuffles he produced from his mouth during his slumber lessens the tension within me, the motioning of his chest nonchalantly rising and falling almost drifting me into a forbidden sleep. Michael is the first person I have fallen in love with, and because of this, anything he does generates a sense of serenity for me. Our bond cannot be fractured and rarely do I question this. Was it because we made love as half vampires? Did we craft a human mate bond that night three months ago? I don't tend to muse over it very often, but when I do those are the two major questions I ask myself. I'm fortunate for it, and always will be.

Whilst I rest on his soothingly levitating chest, my ear pressed against his bare chest where I can perceive the placid beat of his heart, I am trapped in sleepless thoughts. David is keeping me in this worried state so he can belittle me, but I am calm with only mere aspects of unease. I haven't reached the extent of anxiety he covets me to reach, I refuse to reach it.

Michael voices my name in a mumble, his mind living temporally in a dream, a dark heaven, a metaphor, a figure of speech for dreams and nightmares. At one time in our mortal lives we experience these two versions of a fictitious idealism. Sometimes it may be horrific, but other times it may be an undiluted paradise. We have no control over them, they solely design themselves. His hands continue to rope around me, a protection through instinct of my presence. As he exhales lengthily, grumbling a little with a smile on his lips, his robust arms tighten around my torso.

I slip my eyes to a close, willing to endeavour accessing those quaint dreams Michael is having. After mere seconds, they snap open again with a hushed groan of annoyance to escort it, not wishing to awaken Michael who is so peaceful.

My heart lurches with dread at the very noise – a bang. It was a loud bang, but prohibited Michael from deserting his own land of dreams, instead allowing his muscular arms to constrict around my lean body accompanied with another murmur travelling tenderly out of his mouth, his fingers clutching onto masses of coffee brown hair sprouting from my scalp. It may have been Grandpa fumbling around with his taxidermy objects, it could have been the wind outside causing a trash can to lose its balance. But the wind is melodious and Grandpa is asleep, and that dismayed instinct of mine asserts that it is in fact three vampires who have come to complete their unknown retribution driven by insanity.

Every limb I own disentangles from Michael's arms, elevating my spine to position myself upright. My body shielded by a striped white shirt Michael loaned me and pink shorts with a repeated pattern of white polka dots moves along the yielding mattress, glides out from the cotton blankets acting as a refuge to those who are relaxing in that dreamland, then placing my feet steadily onto the wooden planks. Seconds away from Michael's security rouses Michael whose eyes flutter open sleepily, the same amount of time – a singular second – being the length of time that registers where I currently stand, my position being near the door, my fingers ceasing movement and their intention of creaking open the solidly closed door an inch to scour the eerily quiet corridor.

"Baby? What is it?" he yawns, supporting his next action of sitting upright, his back against the wooden bed frame, with his hands. Once I reply with an explanation about the thunderous noise and my belief of what it could be, and what it most likely is, his ocean blue eyes that are identical to mine in the pigment hue widen. "Come back to bed, baby"

I furrow my eyebrows, not comprehending the reasoning behind his words. I want to discover the source of the noise, which will either conclude in two things – alleviation or battle. Alleviation being sought through the noise not being created by David, and battle through the contradictory to that. I open my mouth to protest, but Michael's voice is heard in place of mine.

"Sierra, drop your stubborn nature for once and come back to bed, sweetheart" Michael says in an uncompromising tone, folding his arms to exhibit the dominance in his words. "I'll come over there and get you back to bed myself if I have to" Michael then smirks, a devious scheme created within a short span of moments. "Don't make me count to three, Sierra May Frog"

Unrelenting to move, half of me wanting to locate the roots to the noise, the other half frightened of the truth, I remain where I am standing. Without further hesitation, Michael springs off the bed, the metal spirals creaking slightly with this shift, hastily bundling me into his arms with a deepened caress on my lips to assure me that everything is going to be fine. We both know that it isn't, but he doesn't hope for me to fret over it.

"You're so stubborn, baby" he chuckles through thirsted and gentle fondles on my lips, his kisses being the suggestive that these are our last precious seconds on this surface we call Earth under the velvet drape consumed with glittering constellations. We are both unwavering about our future, ensuring we will own it together.

These aren't our final moments, and we both know it. Michael gingerly places me onto the edge of the mattress whilst he crouches on the wooden floor, his summery breath tingling over my bare kneecaps where his rests his forehead, my thumb soothingly rubbing his underneath the masses of loose ringlets. In a quick movement, Michael elevates his head where he sets his field of vision onto me.

"I love you so much, Sierra. They aren't going to hurt you again. I promise, angel" he whispers restfully, increasing the height of his arm to stroke my cheek gently where I consent my head to lean delicately against the back of his hand with layers of silken skin. "It's the final time, sweetheart. We're gonna beat them. We're gonna do it. I promise you"

"I love you, too" I whisper, arching my back until my nose makes contact with Michael's head, my lips planting a singular kiss there. Michael gathers me in his arms again, holding me serenely proximate to him with strength, my head nesting in his shoulder, followed by Michael also doing the same to mine. "I know we can, Michael"

"Oh, do you now?" Those four words engulfed by spite contract Michael's muscles but not because he wishes to strike the possessor of that smoky voice, but to protect me in his arms. A malevolent chuckle exits a man who aches to transform into my master, a dictator. "You cannot beat me, Michael, and neither can the love of your pathetic life. You cannot beat me, Sierra, you can only be with me. I command it"

"Don't listen to him, baby, don't listen to him" Michael informs me with criticality, tilting my head hastily to lock his eyesight with my own. "Leave her alone, David! Sierra isn't yours. Sierra is mine, and always will be. You're so insane you won't even realise it"

"Insane? How am I insane, Michael? Because I want your precious little girlfriend? If anything, Michael, that makes you the insane one, not me. Paranoid is what you are, Michael. Paranoid that I'll take her from you. Because you love her so much, don't you? We all know who Mikey loves, don't we, Michael? We all know who defied the laws of being mortal and created a mate bond with Sierra. Bonds can be broken though, Michael, and I will break your petty bond" David growls and I have only one opinion of it that I hope David can perceive – over my dead body.

"If you lay one single finger on her, David, I swear to God –"

"You'll what, stake me? Let go of the stake, Michael, you can't kill me. I am immortal, not mortal, so don't treat me like I am" he snarls, but Michael disobeys his petty order and clutches onto the serrated wooden stake. "Let – it – go – Michael"

"We aren't going to bow down to you, David. Remember, you weren't invited" I growl, my hands wrapped around Michael, titanium strength dashing throughout me to keep Michael out of harm's way. Nobody will even dare trespass my security.

The ominous chuckle gives birth to repercussions that circuit the room at a sluggish pace. Though the pace is protracted, he will attack soon. My prediction is correct as he becomes imminent with Michael, that grin provoking Michael who is tensing from rage as a result of David challenging him using an invasion of his personal district and threatening language.

"Hand her over to me, Michael. She's mine" David snarls, elongating his fangs piercing out of his gums. Michael doesn't flinch, but simply holds onto me whilst his facial features reveal his fury.

"Sierra is mine" Michael ceremoniously declares in a sneer. He continues to clutch onto the wooden stake David commanded him to drop previously.

Michael, like myself, won't ever capitulate to David – ever. Then, suddenly, my brow knits together and a crescendo of apprehension rushes throughout me. Michael's body collapses, like he has unexpectedly been stricken by a magic charm. Or in this case, a hex since I know exactly what morally sinful act David has committed – mind games.

"Wha – what... did you do?" I ask, drops of water striving to be incarcerated inside my tear glands as my trembling hands bundle Michael up. "Michael? Baby, wake up, please wake up" He appears undisturbed, like this curse is repressing him in peace. Have they knocked Michael unconscious? Will he ever wake up again? Combining with the worry is enragement in its purest form. They have haunted my boyfriend with something to prevent any accomplishments that vow their demise. The two vampires in front of me, they are nothing but cowards.

"Cowards, huh? Go to sleep, Sierra, before you start saying anymore preposterous things about your masters" David chuckles, his lips pressing hostilely against my forehead regardless of my weakening exertions to both awaken Michael and stay awake to avoid David's despotism. "He'll be back soon, darling. But for now, go to sleep, you need your rest" I hear him corruptly chuckle as my consciousness ebbs away. Though I may be falling into a delicate state of mind soon, I persist to fight against Dwayne soaring me into his tarnished chains where he cradles me. "Knowing your dear Michael, if you join, he'll follow. Oh, this should be fun"

Each punch renovates from a vigorous strike to a deteriorated thump as darkness fades in. I try to battle it, but David gets potent and the dusk supports him. Until a blinding light comes to visit me where I shall be with Marko and Paul, I am ensnared in an everlasting shadow.


Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter everyone! Also, thank you to Miss-Understood for being a new reviewer, I really appreciate your reviews and glad you like my story :) Oh yeah, credit goes to Miss-Understood for Michael and Sierra's new name: Mierrael :3

I want to dedicate this chapter to my friend and author, takingmytears. Not only is she an amazing person but a great writer. I strongly recommend you read her stories: A Soul To Take, Inside My Heart (a sequel to Soul To Take) and Childhood Fears. So there's your little shoutout I've been owing you for aggggggesssssss ;D

Hope you all enjoy the story and leave a review to let me know what you think :)

Thanks for reading guys :)

~VogueCharlotteVogue