Between Breaths

~Chapter 5~

His eyes ran over me, something dark lurking beneath their golden exterior.

To scream.To fight.To run.

I had not the strength.

His claws dragged over my shoulder, slashed across my collar bones. He could have ripped me apart, shredded me past the point recognition, and I would not have stopped him.

With the way I had acted, I deserved all the pain I could get. It was like I was the one who snapped my mother's neck, the one who stole her last breath.

"Really, Luna," Ross' breath crept up my shoulder as he spoke, and I felt blood drip down my chest.

"I had hoped you would be much more entertaining."

He wanted a reply, I could see it from the way he smirked at me when he heard my breath catch. His fangs gleamed in the light, and he held them inches away from my skin. Taunting, threatening, waiting. Waiting for me to break, to fight back. Maybe I was better at masking my emotions than I thought, because I had broken long ago, after that shard of glass dropped from my hand.

When I stayed silent, something flashed in Ross' eyes, maybe shock, disappointment, anger, I didn't know. But that something made his claws even sharper, his voice gruffer as he spoke.

"Fine then, if you won't entertain me, I shall just have to entertain myself."

He leaned forward, his teeth barely grazing my neck. I drew a slow breath, drinking in the cold air, letting the stench invade my senses. Deep beneath the rotten smell, I could still detect the faintest trace of cinnamon. Cinnamon and paint.

Fixing my eyes on the wall behind Ross, I searched for the last painting my mother had framed. She'd painted it a little while after Dad disappeared, when tears still lingered on our cheeks and pain still stained every breath.

When I found it, my heart lurched. It lay on the ground beside the door, cracks were scattered across the glass and the frame was snapped in two.

Ross hit a sensitive spot on my neck, and I bit back a scream. He would get nothing out of me, nothing but the last scraps of my life. At least, that was what I thought. The last thing I thought before Ross sank his fangs deep into my neck.

***

I awoke alone.

The chandelier swayed gently from it's place above the table, and columns of black smoke curled around it like claws. Where the smoke came from, I couldn't tell, because it filled the entire room.

Although there was no sign of Ross, it was clear that something was wrong. It might have even been a new something, something different from the other catastrophes of the past two days. Shouts shook the house, and pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling, layering ground in dusty white. It was clear now, I needed to get the hell out.

My fingers dipped in something wet as I tried to push off the ground beneath me, and when I glanced at them, all I saw was red.

It took me a moment to realize that I was lying on the ground.

And that I was covered in blood.

I felt no pain, only the soft coolness of the smoke as it swept over me. My hands, my feet, my voice, nothing worked. It was like my mind had disconnected from my body, and neither would listen to what the other had to say.

So I let my eyes fall shut and resigned myself to the fact that I would die.

Why should I get up and attempt to prolong my life? Who would miss me? My mother? Dead. My father? Obviously not coming back.

I sighed. Yes, it would be a very simple thing to meet Death with such little attachments holding me back. Still, Death was a daunting man. Apart from family, there were other things. Things that tied me to this place with little strings and ribbons too small to see and too soft to feel.

They were dreams, ideas, wishes. All those frivolous little luxuries. There were certain dreams, certain memories that I locked away when Dad disappeared. But if I was to face Death, I couldn't help but face them.

Her--to be specific. I couldn't help but face her, and tell her that she was going to die.

In my mind, the girl stared at me with big brown eyes, eyes full of whimsical fantasies and outlandish tales.

She pranced through the overgrown grass of our back yard, the pages of her journal fluttering as she swung it in the air.

After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she tossed her journal up on top of the old shed and scaled the tree that grew beside it. It was the perfect tree, with thick, strong branches and lots of leaves to hide her.

They told her not to climb trees, not to go anywhere near the shed, but they couldn't stop her if they couldn't see her. Why shouldn't she do those things, anyway? It wasn't like it would hurt anything.

Once she'd found her usual branch, she snatched her journal from the roof and pulled her special writing pen from the pocket of her grass stained jeans. It was her special pen because it had clouds on it, and clouds made the her think of dreams, and dreams made her think of stories.

The girl sighed and flipped through the countless pages of doodles and first chapters, first chapters to so many stories that she would probably never finish. Why even bother to start? This idea was probably just as doomed as the rest.

No! The girl shook her head and set her eyes on the blank page before her. She would start, and she would finish, and she would get published.

She put her pen behind her ear and grinned at the title of the story. Titles were the first thing, they were crucial. For her, they were almost an art.

The Crossing of the Stars

With a title like that, how could she not get published? She nodded; it was simple, all she had to do was finish it. She would get published, and she would become a real writer.

I almost laughed to myself. What would you think of me now, little Luna?

I had never finished The Crossing of the Stars. I had never written past the first paragraph, although the whole damned thing was written inside my head.

That Luna would hate me, especially after what I've done.

I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it. I sobbed without tears, my breaths scraping at my throat like cracked glass. Deep inside, I did not want that girl to die. Deep inside, I still wanted her to grow up and become a real writer.

I heard someone utter a long stream of curses, and I stilled. I felt fingers touch my forehead, a hand cup my shoulder.

"Luna?"

My eyes snapped open, and I almost screamed.

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Okay, okay, okay. I am aware that this is a very short chapter, and that not that much happens in it.

However, I just really wanted/needed to update. While I love this story, it is mainly for fun, and therefore it doesn't have to have 3,000 words in every chapter. I wanted to leave it hanging, and I felt it was a good time to do so.

As always, please give me input. I appreciate all of it.

Song of the chapter is Twisted Measure's cover of Chandelier.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to vote!

Love ya'll!

:)