CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - DAY 37
My palms dig into the moss-covered pebbles that worm along the edge of the trail, remnants of some long ago geologic process. Briefly, I consider burrowing farther into the dirt in an attempt to disappear, to dig my own grave, to become the master of my own fate.
Emmett - well, Not Emmett - looms in front of Edward, who stalks him like a panther, lithe, deadly. But what Not Emmett lacks in skill, he makes up for in sheer size. Instead of the typical overwhelming sense of safety I get in his presence, I feel sheer and utter terror: my breaths leave my chest in harsh, swift pants, a trickle of sweat beads down my face, mixing with the rain that still pounds around us like my heartbeat.
I lock eyes with what used to be my brother. My jovial, hairbrained, caring brother. But those eyes have no compassion in them, only an intense wildness that I do not recognize.
As the rain hits the ground in rhythmic pats, I realize I'm the only heartbeat. Shit.
Something cold and hard grips the back of my ponytail and tugs, so roughly that all the breath in my lungs whooshes out.
Not Emmett lunges toward me - a great, hulking beast - but Edward is faster. His darkened bronze hair blurs with his movement as he slams into what used to be my brother.
A soft pleading noise makes its way out from the back of my throat.
For a brief moment, I disassociate.
Back to the morning Emmett gave me the newspaper clipping. The hot coffee I poured down my already sore throat. I rewind. The tattered feeling of my purple duvet - too hot on my moist cheek in the morning. My jeans from the night before - sticky against my skin in the humidity of the early morning. The smell of what I know will be bitter coffee and Em's clumsy attempt at making crispy bacon - just straight up burned - making my stomach churn.
If I try hard enough, maybe I can send myself back there.
A sound like the crashing of mountains somewhere in the distance.
I don't have time to figure out what is making that noise. A marble hand clamps around my throat, yanks me up like a ragdoll, and pushes my back into the hard bark of a hemlock. And new eyes - a muddy rust color, gaze into mine like they're assessing me for weaknesses. What they don't know is I'm all weakness. I have no strength left in me.
My eyesight becomes fuzzy around the edges. Black dots pop up as I stare back at what must be Death, defeated. Wishing for burnt bacon and Emmett's homemade pancakes. For my dad, who isn't coming. For things I'll never get to see or hear or taste again.
"Oh, I do wish this was more fun. More… challenging. Alas," A chilling female voice floats as lightning flashes and thunder crashes around me - through me.
"She's pretty, no?" The man whispers, his sandy blond hair plastered to his face from the rain. "The way her cheeks turn red with blood? The way the whites of her eyes burst with red when I do this?" He squeezes and all air stops making it to my lungs. "So fragile," he breathes, voice husky, breath cool against my ear.
I feel the wet scrape of his tongue against my cheek as everything fades to black.
My last thought is of Edward. I hate being the damsel in distress. Where the fuck is he?
A/N
I'm still here! Life was a little rough for a while but I'm hoping to get back into writing.
I apologize that it took me so long to update and am doubly sorry that this is a short one - I'll be sitting down at my laptop this week to write ahead after a friend of mine helped me to flesh out the details of the coming story.
Hope you all are well. 3