~Tonight I start the fire, tonight I break away.
~At night I feel like a Vampire, I try but I just can't give it up.
~If you can't stand the way this place is take yourself to higher places!
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I punched his back with my good hand, “Put me down!”
He carried me into the house, and I continued beating his back, “Keep doing that Sweetheart, watch what happens.”
I slapped his back harder once we got in the kitchen, and he dropped me on the black counter with a thud. I pulled my shirt down, sat up, and immediately went to punch him in the face. He caught my fist in his giant gloved hand, and squeezed. “Ow, ow stop!”
“I told you not to piss me off today. Did you not heart me?” He growled, his eyes bright blue.
“Let go, let go!” I exclaimed, kicking out.
He let go of my hand, and I felt both of my hands crinkle up in pain, and start to shake. I stared at the one to the left, which he just squeezed, and then my right one. Blood is dripping off of it, and there is a huge gash along my knuckles and in-between my pinky and ring finger. I can see shards of glass sticking out.
Blood plus gash plus on my knuckles, equals Cassie not happy.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, and Valentine threw something against the wall. A medical box slammed onto the table next to me, stopping my little fit. “Stop it, your fine. It’s a small gash.”
He disappeared, and I heard the sink go on. The sound of drawers moving made me turn around. Nobody is behind me looking through draws, and I frowned.“Give me your hand,” his voice spoke in front of me, making me jump. He has black glasses on and a flashlight in his hand.
I put my shaky hand in his, and the pain instantly lessened. He pulled a kitchen chair to the counter, and sat in front of me. His shoulders are now level with my belly button. I sniffled, and the flashlight turned on in his left hand. He has a long tweezers in his right. My heartbeat skipped a little, realizing what he was going to do. “Look away,” he grumbled quietly.
I pulled my hand away, and he growled.
“W-what are you doing?” I stuttered, staring at the tweezers.
“I’m getting the glass out of your hand! What does it look like I’m doing? You’re a moron and thought punching the glass would make it easier for the window to open,” he replied nastily, grabbing my arm with his hand, “Stop moving for five seconds.”
I tried to pull my hand away, and struggle. He hugged me to him, crushing my face against his chest, and focused on my hand. “No! Don’t please I can’t take it! Can’t you put me to sleep or something?” I kicked out and tried to get him off me. He held down my legs and my left arm with his.
He roughly grabbed my wrist, and loomed over me. “I can, but then you won't learn your lesson. You're old enough to keep it together. It will only take me a few seconds, if you calm the hell down,” he snapped, his jaw set.
I looked up at him, with my injured hand in my lap, letting everything he said soak in. “You’re r-right I’m s-sorry,” I said shakily, changing my glance to my knees.
Valentine sat back into the chair, with my injured hand in his. “If you relax I can help the dull the pain,” he said, looking up at me with his ocean eyes. A calm feeling started to spread through me, and I shut my eyes. He carefully started to pick out the shards of glass, dabbing at the blood from the gash. After a few seconds I watched as he pulled a huge piece out, and I gagged little. “I’ll never understand why humans are afraid of a natural liquid in their body,” he mumbled under his breath.
I would laugh at that, but at the moment I’m watching a Vampire start to dig into my bloody hand with a needle and thread.
“I’m not that affected by it. I have pretty good control with blood,” he commented, reading my mind. I watched his ocean eyes in concentration, and lingered over his tan skin, to his feathery hair. It seems to be getting longer, and curling around his ears and the back of his head more.
“Do you have control or is it just experience?” I asked curiously.
“Yes and no. I never force anyone on me when I’m hungry, but that does take experience to master,” he said quietly.
I laughed, “Yeah, that’s completely true. I’m sure everyone you drink from is willing, and not manipulated,” I said sarcastically, making him cut the string from the stitches, and stop fixing my hand. He pushed the chair away abruptly, and stood up to his massive height. My eyes traveled down his now bloody shirt, then back up to his face
His eyes are glued my face, burning like blue fire. “What’s that suppose to mean?” he hissed.
Feeling confidence, I swiveled my legs around on the counter and jumped off. “What it means Fang Face , I’m pretty positive none of your donators would feed you if they didn’t have some manipulation.”
He chuckled darkly, and ran a hand through his chestnut hair, and leaned over to me on the opposite side of the counter.“Would you like to challenge that, baby? I assure you all my donators are willing, and very generous. Like the maid I had an hour ago. Very giving, she just letting me take her in the middle of the hallway like that. You missed the beginning though, it was smoldering hot.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat, “I’m sure it was. I hope it made you happy, I really do. But somehow I doubt it did,” I replied quickly, seeing his face soften.
He cracked a grin, and started laughing loudly. The sound feels wrong to my ears. He stopped abruptly, and his face became serious.“You want me to be happy? If you want me to be happy, help me kill my father, and then drop dead.” he snapped, “get two of my problems out of the way.”
I let everything he said linger in my mind, and started to once again feel choked up. Breathing became harder, and I fought back tears, “I wish you weren’t there too catch me.”
I will not cry, I will not cry.
Valentine stood up straight, and grinned like a cat, “Are you going to cry some more?” he said nastily, enjoying and savoring the moment. "What, did you think we were getting closer, that I would suddenly fall in love with you?” he started, walking around the counter, his gaze on the floor, “love isn’t real Cassie. Love is a made up word, for people that want an antidote to this shitty world; an invisible way to escape their worst fears, and be with someone who they think will shield them from all the dangers that they have to face at some point,” he brought his gaze up, and I stopped breathing at the look he gave me, “love is what blinds liars from the truth, and what stops dreamers from reaching their goal. Love is word that is isn’t in any of my dictionaries.”
Tears started to run down my face as he spoke, “Have you ever… been in love?” I choked out, already knowing the answer. He didn’t respond for a long time, just stared at me. He turned to walk away, took a keys out of his pocket, and started swinging them back and forth in his hand.
“I’m going to go clean up; I suggest you do the same. Put a gauze pad on your hand, and wrap it up with first aid tape. Then meet me outside by the garage. Keep me waiting, and I’ll come to your room with a steak knife in my hand.”
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I am soooo crippled right now.
After numerous attempts to get my sweatshirt off and falling on my ass, I finally thought of an idea. I shimmied my left arm out of the sleeve, and lifted the sweatshirt over my head. Then I gingerly moved my hand through the sleeve, feeling bits of pain as the fabric brushed against the skin.
“Why couldn’t he just heal me like last time? Why can’t he just be nice once in a while? When he is going to tell me all these damn secrets? Why am I getting changed?” I questioned myself, and threw my sweatshirt to the ground. Next I took off my shirt the same way, and un-buttoned my jeans with one hand. I slid out of everything, and attempted to put on skinny jeans.
I huffed, and I puffed, and I fell to the damn floor.
“Oof!” I tried to get up with one hand, but that one doesn’t feel to strong at the moment also. I lay on my back on the pink carpeted floor in my bra and underwear. I feel like a crippled loser. “I hate my life.”
A loud knock on the door, made my head turn towards it. “It’s been twenty minutes,” a deep voice boomed.
Oh no. The door slammed open, and none other than Valentine walked in, with a steak knife in his hand. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt that seems a little tight on his muscles. His legs are covered by expensive, faded blue jeans. On his feet are tan work boots. He looked at me on the floor, grinned like a fat kid holding a Twinkie for the first time. “Well, well, isn’t this is a predicament…for you. Having trouble Human?”
I huffed out a angry breath, and I realize my cheeks are probably scarlet red. I used all my abs strength (none) to sit up. “Get out of here, now!” I yelled at him, covering myself.
“Ok, ok, I’ll be in the hallway... my little… Cripple. Make sure to wear something you can get water on, since you will be cleaning my car.”
What?!
“What?” I screamed out loud, but he already slammed the door closed.
Why is he suddenly calling my Human? Why does he have so many pet names for me? Why are all these questions starting with ‘why?’ Why was he all the sudden friendly to me?
I looked down at myself, and instantly pressed the heels of my hands into my semi-puffed eyelids; from crying.
It had to be the stupid push-up bra.
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Why can’t he just use car wash place, where they do this for a living, and probably have two hands. I stared at his boots as he spoke. There will be no conversations with the jerk. My lip quivered from coldness, as soon as I walked outside. It has to be about thirty degrees outside, no joke. Plus it looks like it’s going to snow at any moment. I should have worn a stupid jacket.
He motioned to the bucket filled with soap and water, “Bucket,” he motioned to the sponge, “sponge,” he motioned to the car, “car,” he said sarcastically, as if talking to a mental patient.
I attempted to cross my arms over my chest, but my one hand is pretty sore at the moment, so I probably look like an idiot. How am I supposed to clean his car with one hand? And how am I suppose do this when it’s so cold outside! I’ll freeze from the water.
“I could give a rat’s ass that you’re ignoring me. Get to work,” he grumbled nastily.
He walked into the garage, his back muscles moving like a predator. He stopped at his motorcycle, and lifted easily to place the parking space of the Porsche. Valentine took out a tool box, and started playing with the parts of the motorcycle, undoing bolts with a wrench. I watched his biceps, as he worked.
I wonder what he bench presse—
He looked up from the motorcycle, and gave me a look that reads ‘What-should-you-be-doing-right-now?’
I quickly looked away, blushing from embarrassment and anger. I faced the gorgeous black Porsche only feet away from me. The car is parked pretty close to the garage, but still on the driveway. After evaluating every inch of the outside, I realize this car doesn’t need to be cleaned. It looks spotless. I saw the garage door close, and I breathed a sign of relief. At least he won’t be watching my every move. The sound of loud
I pulled the bucket to the car with my left hand, and then went back to get the sponge. Next I grabbed the hose he placed by the car, which is already running. I picked it up, and pressed the handle to make it spray, getting the whole car wet.
I shivered for the fiftieth time, as a burst of cold wind hit me. Not wasting any time, I hurried to the bucket of soapy water, and dipped the sponge in it. Instantly I felt ice cold water, and let out a hiss. I attempted to scrub the windshield first, grunting because I’m unable to reach the middle of the windshield, by jumping. Since I can’t lean on my right hand, I fell forward and slid down the hood of the car, like a penguin on ice.
I plopped onto the ground painfully, falling right on my hand. I let out a silent yelp, too embarrassed to say anything loud.
This will take a while.
I turned my head to the front of the Porsche, getting a sudden idea. I instantly got up from the black pavement, hurried around the garage by a door to get in, and squatted. Listening for any sounds in the garage, I stilled and counted to sixty. I slowly moved my head up, to look through the door’s window into the garage.
He must have gone inside.
I pushed down the handle of the door, and quietly opened it. Instantly I smelled gasoline, and felt incredibly colder. Surveying the area, and stepped further in to look on the wooden shelves on the wall. I quickly moved around random Motorcycle parts, and searched every shelf but the top one.
Would he hide his keys on top shelf? There’s only one way to find out. I grabbed the large tool box by his huge black Harley motorcycle, and dragged it to the shelf with one hand. “Jesus this thing is heavy!” I whispered to myself, and quickly pressed my lips together.
Better stay quiet so Fang Face doesn’t hear me.
I stepped on the toolbox, and tried to reach up on the top shelf. I stretched with all my might, but my fingers barely reach the top shelf. “Stupid, tall, jerk,” I mumbled under my breath.
I searched the room for something to stand on, and instantly my gaze locked on the Harley. I scampered over to it, and tried to pull it to the shelf. It resisted, and seems to weight more than sixty of me combined. “Oh wow.” I moved the kick stand, and tried to pull it with my uninjured hand once again. It slowly dragged on the floor with every tug. “Come on only a…few….feet…aghh!”
I stopped pulling, completely out of breath. I moved the kick stand down, and stared at the bike, and the shelves behind it. What the hell, no turning back now. I put a foot on the bike, and grabbed onto the shelves carefully. My head is well over the shelves now. I searched around it, and gasped when I saw a pair of black keys, with a cursive V on them. I reached over to grab them, and the bike started to wobble.
No, no no! Don’t fall—
The bike started to fall backwards, and I held onto the shelves with dear life, with both of my hands. My injured hand screamed in protest, and the bike crashed to the ground. My heart is now pounding in my chest, and my feet are dangling off the ground. I dropped, surprisingly landing easily on my feet.
Ok, now I run. I hurried out of the garage, and ran along the grass to the driveway. I fiddled with the keys in my left hand, but since I am not left land I am having some technical difficulties.
“Shit! Why is there not a unlock button!” I yelled at myself, and jammed the keys into the lock one more time with shaky fingers. I looked nervously at the garage, and the front door.
He’ll be out any second! He had to of heard that! Finally the door clicked open, and I moved myself into the drivers seat. I slammed the door shut, and locked every door in the car door. The smell of leather, and his cologne filled my nose.
I took a deep breath, getting really scared. Everything’s alright Cassie, everything is alright! You just haven’t drove in a few months, everything should be… what am I doing? He’s probably getting a chainsaw ready right now!
I put the keys into the ignition, and the car purred loudly. Next I put the car in reverse, and pressed the gas down hard. The car quickly backed up, and I made a turn out into the main drive way.
Oh no, what about the guards? Wait a minute…he used something to get past them last time I was in this car. I looked up on the windshield to see a little black box, with a white button. I pressed it, and the gates opened. I sunk back in the seat, avoiding the guy in the little guard stations gaze. Once I got past him, I made a left, and sped down the windy road.
After a few minutes driving down the un- familiar road, I wiped sweat off my forehead. “That was a lot easier than I thought,” I said to myself. I drove and drove, passing unfamiliar trees, until the car came reached my worst nightmare. My mouth dropped, a dead end. I stopped the car, and stared at the forest. “I spoke to soon.”
That’s when I heard the loud roar of a motorcycle, not too far away.
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Sorry if my writing sucks....I pulled a all nighter wit ma buddies last night, and now I feel like mashed potatoes...yeah. :)
But I still uploaded so blah.