Cresent Moon

Chapter Ten

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

©2007 – 2011 Katrina Meade

Laurel

 Slowly I opened my eyes. In front of my face was a black clock with green digital numbers. It said that it was 12:30 am. I looked around confused. Spooning me on the bed was Martin. I felt horrible. It wasn’t right to be here. I eased myself out of the bed and quickly pulled on my clothes. I knew where I needed to be right now. That was with my parents. As I pulled away from Martin’s house I had the sense that I was being followed, but I ignored it. I stopped in front of a stone graveyard. I shivered as I looked across the eerie space. Mom. Dad. I cut the engine and walked to the wrought-iron gate. I pulled it open silently and walked to where my parents’ graves should be. I looked down at the beautiful headstones. Tears rolled warm down my frozen face. Someone had engraved the word forever into my father’s headstone and it looked new. I sank to my knees in front of the stone. I sobbed harder.

            “I miss you,” I cried. “Both of you, dearly.” I choked then continued, “Neither of you deserved to go. I need you both, now more than ever.”

            As I was saying this, there was an odd growling sound. I spun and found myself face to face with my father.

            “Dad,” I gasped.

            “Mmm,” he murmured. “So delicious.”

            I screamed and tried to run. But he caught me and pulled my hair away from my neck. His lips just barely brushed my throat when he was pulled off me. I fell to the ground. I heard snarling from behind me. I turned and saw Erich and my father fighting. I tried to get up but my leg was throbbing. I looked down and saw a white point sticking out of my ankle. With a final hiss I heard a departure. My dad was gone.

            “Erich,” I sobbed.

            “Shh,” he soothed. “You’ll be fine. Let me get you out of here.”

            I tried to move again, but was still unsuccessful. “My ankle hurts too much for me to move.”

            He crouched down to check out my ankle. “You’re right.”

            He picked me up and carried me to my car. Erich pulled open the passenger door and placed me gently on the seat. In no time we were speeding towards the nearest hospital. He carried my weight as I limped through the automatic doors on my good leg. The nurse had us taken straight to the Emergency Room. The doctor x-rayed my leg. I was condemned to wear a cast for a while. Erich sat patiently through it all, just staring at me.

            As I stared back, I saw what Lindsay was talking about. His eyes were distant and pain creased his brow. His mouth was a taut line, no sign of any emotion. He helped me walk – limp, really – to the car, carrying my crutches. The silence continued for the long drive home. About a few miles out of Sandstone, I couldn’t handle it.

            “Say something?” I groaned.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

            I shook my head. “How’d you know I was here?”

            He looked away, slightly embarrassed. “I, er, sort of spied on your conversation with Lindsay.” He looked back at me. “I followed you all the way here on foot.”