Chapter Four

The edge

Something has changed, something inside of me has ripped and twisted. I still love him, my Valentine, but this new feeling has invaded my mind. My body is coiled like a snake, the pain of finally letting him go is killing me. How can this be? Why must I suffer for his crimes against me?

"Help." Even to me, my voice is weak and pitiful. "I'm dying." The words gush out on a sigh, dragged from the very depths of my heart to be splattered on the soft leather that pressed against my cheek.

"You're alive. Nothing will harm you while I'm here, so do not be afraid." A voice as calming and cool as a summer breeze cuts through the fog of despair. It feels nice; it slides over my skin and eases the burning tide of pain.

"How?" I manage to ask. "How can you protect me from my own heart?" There is a pause.

I can feel myself sinking back into the depression, the voice will not answer, because the voice knows it cannot protect me.

Only…only Valentine can save me.

There is a jerk, I feel the heart fall from my hand. I watch it roll from my palm and disappear from sight.

Goodbye, I mouth.

Arms wrap around me, curl me into a ball and lift me from the leather. I miss its warmth, the smooth feel against my body. But then I relax into the warmth of his body. I peer through my lashes at the boy; his pointed nose seems odd, and his hair, thick and long. Why am I thinking about this? Who is he to me?

But this question will not form on my lips, no matter how hard I try. Weakness is my companion, walking hand in hand with Death. "You will not die, not while I am here." I hear the boy whisper. Those words hold no comfort, for how can this feeling of emptiness allow me to live?

I used to be smart, when I went to school, I would be at the top of my class. But when Valentine came there was no time. No time. I stopped going to school and my friends resentment my absent minded uncaring. It must have been hard when one of your friends walks out without a second glance, not even a goodbye.

We're walking up stairs; I can feel the angle change and then smooth out, a door opens, the cold from the outside is inside as well, no reprieve the bitter iciness. My head falls back, the bite marks at my neck pull tight, I draw in a breath to say something, or maybe do something. But the air is stuck in my throat. I choke. Tears cloud my eyes.

He lays me down, finally.

I can't breathe.

I'm hysterical.

Why does my world seem so twisted and expendable?

Why me?

This question sobers me, I stop crying so suddenly that the brown eyes boy leans over me and touches my face in concern. I watch him as if through glass, he means nothing to me. Nothing.

Because I'm locked in ice, this prison tighten and constricts, no emotions are allowed to flow through its walls. My lungs are starving, yet I don't even try to fill them.

Why me? A stupid, naïve and selfish question. I would not rather someone else deal with this fate. No, no one deserves to have their heart ripped from their body and tossed to the dirt. No one but me, I think, because I followed Valentine so easily, so readily that it's almost embarrassing.

"Joringa? Joringa breathe. You must breathe." His voice floats to me as slowly and sluggishly as a whisper may travel the world.

No, I want to reply, I deserve this, don't you understand?

I begin to withdraw from my body, my mind sinks back further, and now it's like I'm watching what somebody else is watching. It not clear, I don't feel anything and I'm floating in this abyss of loss and lack of control.

The world around me dims, streaks of fuzzy red flash across my vision, like blood red lightning bolts. I've felt the thin hand of Death reach out to me before, this is not it, this feel more like I am suffocating my mind. Soon thoughts will become hard to almost impossible to decipher.

Why am I doing this?

Because it doesn't hurt.

And then an explosion of pleasure and pain rockets through me. I open my eyes; hair blocks my line of vision. Feeling is returning slowly. But sound will take a little longer. Something stings at my throat. A deep, throbbing burn that slowly cascades down my shoulders and my limbs. Something hot drips from my mouth.

I gasp like a fish out of water. Tiny puffs of air fill my lungs, yet it's not really enough. If I die again I don't want to come back.

I turn my head, it hurts.

We are in a room, a bedroom; I've never seen anything like it. There's a chandelier on the ceiling, the four poster bed is draped in silk and a thin, gauzy material. Everything is violet and mauve. It reminds me of the mansion Valentine had once taken me too. The intricate carvings on the roof remind me of wolves; their large jaws open in a silent snarl.

A figure detaches itself from the shadowy corner, I watch with calm eyes, but I know they're too wide. It's a woman, she's beautiful, the kind of woman that turns heads where ever she goes. I envy her, her willowy form and her blonde hair. She's watching me as I watch her. But her eyes hold a predatory gleam. It makes me quiver, from fear, and my hands convulse in the silk sheets. The boy is still at my throat, he's biting me, I can feel it now. His pearly whites are pushing through my skin so deep.

I hiccup, the small sound burns, blood bubbles on my lips. It happens again and I know he's drinking too deeply, I know he won't stop until he has every drop of my red life. I guess he lied when he said nothing will hurt me.

Because he is.

The figure is still standing there, several feet away, yet she means nothing to me. My body convulses as my blood slides down his throat and up my own. Pain etches my face into a grimace. Gods, why is he tacking so long? Why can't he just get it over with?

And then I'm looking past the woman, she's but a blur in this strange room. Another fixture to overlook. Pointless, it's all so pointless; to worry about something that will never hurt me, to fear the intangible ghost blocking the doorway to freedom.

The bed beneath me is as soft as water, I fall through it, and the boy retracts his fangs. Those pearly, delicate weapons are covered in something red. I think it's mine. My what? My…blood?

Everything is so slow; each sweep of my lashes seems to take a lifetime. Darkness pervades every corner of the room until I see nothing but the edge, the edge of the downfall.

I had never been this close to the downfall, it is steep and lethal. As smooth as a blade and ever so tantalizing. I'm supposed to fall, when I'm pushed. My bloodless body is cold and my eyes are glazed. And I'm expected to wait until the final shove.

But with a smile I take a running start and jump…

oOoOoO This is a crappy chapter.

Thank you to all my reviewers, who are angels, no less. Love you all.

Emily

darkangel1994

Laheba Alam

itsmiraandaa

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