The Dark Side of Family (The Dark Side, Book 1)

Blue Ice and Fire

[Quick Author's Note: Again - please feel free to leave me comments! I appreciate the feedback. I'm always trying to improve my craft, so your constructive criticism and opinions are always welcome.

I hope you enjoy this addition.]

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When I came around, blue eyes with silver flecks stared in to mine. Brow furrowed in concern, he watched me, his face mere inches from mine. He mistook my tears for what they actually were - joy and fury at his return; gratefulness that I, if only once more, got to see his eyes look into mine. Panicked, he asked, "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," I replied, not wanting to tell him he was the cause of my tears. The physical pain was crushing, but it was the emotional scars being ripped open that had brought me to the point of crying in front of him - something I had never done before.

"I'll fix it, babe. I promise," he said as his deep, baritone voice rumbled through me, infecting my thoughts and burrowing into my very core. With that, his hands fluttered over my injuries and all I felt was a burning heat, searing along my skin and sinking into my bones. I bit my lip to prevent a whimper from escaping, my skin crawling with fire as I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the burning sensations. It didn't work.

Fire danced on my skin; the heat was intoxicating, dangerous, and painful all at once - just like seeing his face was. If it weren't for my sizzling skin, I might have seen the irony in it all. At this current moment, however, all I wanted to do was scream.

"Almost done, Ky. I know it hurts, just hang in there," he encouraged. As much as I hate to admit it to myself - and never would to anyone else - his voice is all that kept me hanging onto the threads of consciousness. Frankly, I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse - probably a little bit of both.

Gritting my teeth, I made it through the pain. It was over as abruptly as I started, and all I felt afterwards was...nothing. Well, that's not strictly true - I felt whole again. Tentatively, I moved - to my utter shock, my hip was no longer shattered. Gently, I touched the side of my face to find it was no longer tender; moving my fingertips to my lip, I discovered it was no longer split.

Dumbfounded, I looked at him. His eyes were still concerned, and the icy hardness of them had melted into the fluid blue of the Caribbean. "What did you do?" I whispered, partially horrified and partially astounded.

"...It's a long story, Kylie," he said guardedly. He was being purposefully evasive, and that made me suspicious.

"I've got time," I said, looking at him intently.

"Your eyes are just the way I remember them, you know. Emerald green and liquid gold. God, I missed them," he said, squeezing me tightly to his chest.

"Why won't you tell me?" I said, watching him carefully.

"I just...don't want to rehash it all right now, okay?" he said defensively.

"Okay," I said stiffly, pulling away from him and standing up abruptly.

"Ky..."

"Get out, Blain."

"What?"

"You left me here. Waltzing back into my life to save me from sure disaster does not excuse the fact that YOU. LEFT. ME. HERE."

"Kylie, I..."

"No, Blain. I don't want to hear it. You knew about my dad. You knew he was only getting worse...and you still left me here!" I screamed at him. "Get out. Just get out. I can't DO this."

"Fine...I'll go, but I will be back. I'm not leaving without you."

"Don't bother. You did it once, I'm sure you can do it again," I said vehemently.

He flinched, and I almost felt bad. Almost.

"That wasn't my choice, Kylie..."

"Sure it wasn't. Just get out, Blain. Please. Just...leave me alone," I begged, closing my eyes tightly to hold back the tears that were threatening to burst out from behind the dam of my emotions. I don't cry in front of people - I certainly couldn't cry in front of him twice in one night. What excuse would I have this time? It certainly couldn't be chalked up to physical pain like last time.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. I was definitely relieved, but I was more than a little heartbroken, too. Yet again, he didn't fight for me - he didn't fight for me the way I would have fought for him. Maybe I was foolish to think he'd ever really loved me at all.

With that thought freshly ingrained in my mind, I carefully walked over to my father and checked his pulse. He was alive. Hopefully when he woke up he wouldn't remember any of this...if he did, though, I'd have to leave. Quickly. To go where, I have no clue...but I wasn't about to put myself in the situation I'd been in tonight again.

Sneaking up the stairs and into my room, I locked the door and slipped out of my blood-stained clothes. Pulling on an oversized t-shirt - one that had been Blain's, much to my chagrin - I crawled into bed and cried, attempting to muffle my gut-wrenching sobs. It was difficult, but somehow I managed. Minutes ticked by, slowly turning into hours of reliving the beautiful, flash-in-the-pan romance mine and Blain's friendship had become - until he'd left me alone.

Tearducts dry, I curled into a ball and rocked myself to sleep. Little did I know, I was being watched over from the woods along my house. Regardless of what I had said to him, Blain couldn't stomach the thought of leaving me alone...again.