It was times like these when I had to wonder just what I did to deserve this... I never lied,—more than normal—I had never stolen anything,—expect that keychain when I was eight and the guy was totally ripping people off anyway—and no one was murdered at my hands—yet. So why, oh why, did God seem to have something against me?
Pain that equaled that of a thousand needles being driven through me rocketed up my spine. I arched my back, trying to loosen the aching numbness of my muscles and only succeeding in digging my bleeding shoulders into the glass littered ground. Damn it, I was useless like this.
“Well, well. Look at the little puppy-dog now,” taunted a malicious voice. “Where’s that fighting fire that used to be there? You know, the thing that made you think you could take me.”
Through my blurred and blackening vision, I could make out the ashen face of a small girl as pretty as a porcelain doll hovering over me. She was cloaked in a black robe and her short, pale brown locks tumbled in messy girls around her face. Her lips were red with blood that matched the color of her wide eyes.
“Go to hell,” I muttered, meaning the statement to be scornful but coming out weaker than a small puppy’s whine. Brilliant, Leah. Now you really are a puppy.
Her lips quirked into a sadistic grin. “Gladly. Why don’t you go first and tell me how it is?” With a raise of the twisted metal pipe she carried and a flash of her pearly white teeth, she brought it down with a force and quickness most would find unimaginable.
I was given no time to ponder her skills though as a sudden jolt of pain ripped its way up my arm. A scream involuntarily ripped itself from my throat, soon trying into a string of curses and hisses as the lack of feeling took over. God, as soon as I regained my strength I was so ripping her throat out and clawing her eyes out. The pain I felt now would be nothing compared to her punishment; that I would make sure of.
…Unless I died first.
Afraid to look over and see the damage dealt, I finally got up the courage and rolled my head to one side, eyes still closed but slowly opening. The first thing I saw was blotches of dark liquid splattering the factory floor and my arm.
Blood… My blood.
Dear God.
Feeling nauseous, I continued to just stare at the warped metal spear sticking out from the cooper skin of my arm. It was stuck…in my arm. Great. She was so getting her ears torn right off her head now.
A millions questions whirled in my mind. Was the bone broken? Did it go all the way through? Was it infected? (That one I could answer from all the rust gathering at the point intruding on my arm. Probably.) If so, could werewolves survive a fatal infection? Was I going to heal with this thing forever in my arm? Could I survive lead/metal poisoning? How much blood can werewolves survive losing?
“My, my, that’s quite a lot of blood,” she commented, pulling on a fake look of concern as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I doubt even werewolves can regenerate blood this fast. Looks like you only have moments left. Pity really. Your blood does have nice cinnamon taste to it. Would had made quite a meal to the other members of the Volturi, but cold blood in so unappealing.”
You do not know how bad I wanted to punch her smirking face in. Sadly, I couldn’t feel my arm anymore and my right side was going numb even as I thought, so even sitting up was out of the question right now. I wondered if this was how it felt to die. Everything went numb and then you just…slipped into unconscious and…died. I would probably find out soon enough.
My eyelids feeling heavy, I managed to repeat my one line a little stronger this time. “Go to hell.” Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? It felt like something was crushing my lungs. That couldn’t be good.
I suddenly jerked upwards, causing new found pain to shoot up my left arm; several throaty coughs raked my fragile body. My eyes screwed shut at the burning sensation in my throat almost equal to that of a severe coughing fit. This couldn’t be good.
My back hit the ground again with a weak thud, sweat gathering on my brow. I was really, utterly useless. Lazily, I looked downwards, dreading what I would find. Oh, why did I care anymore? I was going to die anyways so why not at least see the damage.
…Shit.
Red covered my entire body. Dark, almost black spots of blood gathered on my battered figure, curves still visible even through the mess. My blue tank top was slowly turned lavender from the blood soaking in along with my white capris.
Red did not look good with either. And the ironic thing was, I was considering wearing scarlet today but changed my mind at the last moment. Marvelous decision, Leah.
My lungs felt drier than the Sahara desert as I tried to breathe in what little gulps of precious oxygen I had left. It felt like I was choking…on my own blood. What a way to go.
I would never—no matter how much Clorox bleach I scrubbed into the fabric—be able to fully get the blood out. Great. Absolutely great. I was in pain, dying in my own puddle of blood, alone, my clothes stained beyond repair, and a rusty metal pike jabbed into my arm. Could I be any worse off?
Yes, answered my sub-conscious. Someone else could be here to witness your pain. Someone who you wouldn’t like to cry in front of. Like Sam.
It took me a moment to process the fact that my blurred vision just wasn’t from the blood loss, but from the gathering tears. I never cried, but screw that, this pain was too much.
And if Sam were here…I would shallow my pride and take to being rescued. Sure, I would bitch-slap him later and probably scream some very choosy words at him for following me here, but I had priorities above my pride; like, oh, I don’t know, my LIFE! I wasn’t going to say no to a Prince Charming at the moment.
I would thank him in the long run.
God, did everyone who was killed in battle feel this horrible? Could I even consider this a battle. It felt more like a torture session. Stupid, pain-allusion-bringing vampire.
“Looks like it won’t be long now,” I heard her sickly sweet voice taunt from somewhere beyond my limited gaze.
Won’t be long. Thank God. A part of me wanted to sigh in happiness and accept sweet, blissful death, but the other half wanted to revolt in protest fueled by my own stubbornness.
I had lived a good life. What was so wrong in dying? I had a couple friends, a good family waiting back home, good education, bright future, and a newly started life that I had hoped to build. Maybe in a way, this was a blessing. Maybe it was to save me from more pain down the road.
Sure, I might have liked to fall in love. Maybe have sex once or twice. Starting a family would be nice too. But I was good. I was…fine with…being…alone.
Screw my damn pride, I wanted a man! Someone to come bursting through that window any second with magic healing powder and sweep me off my feet. Someone to cuddle up with on cold winter nights even though I was always as toasty as anyone could be. Someone to have twenty-four hour long phone conversations with and share massive phone bills with afterwards. Someone to comfort me when I was miserable. Someone who would make me laugh as we walked down the road of life. Someone to start a damn family with.
Someone to love. An equal.
Real and true love. Like imprinted love. The kind I heard other wolves babble on and on about. The kind that I found bitterly-sweet but craved so bad.
The kind of love that would be mutual. I would love him with all my heart and he would love me with his very being.
Like Sam and Emily. Or, I suppose, like me and Sam had…once.
Heh, but I guess I’m just too stubborn to get that kind of thing. ‘Always the bridesmaid, never the bride’ as the old saying goes. I would never be able to wear long white gloves successfully if I survived this anyways. There would possibly be a big hole in my arm or no left arm at all.
On impulse, I tugged at my left arm, seeing if it would come loose. It didn’t. And all I received was more spasms of pain speeding up the length of my arm, going numb near the shoulder bone. That answered one of my questions. Yes, Leah. It did go all the way through if you couldn’t already tell from the immense amounts of pain.
Damn brat. I felt the fire spark again. I wasn’t going down like this. I swore to myself I would go down fighting, not lying on the floor as defenseless as a kit.
Won’t be long.
I let out a strangled cry at the blood collecting in my lungs. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn it!
Won’t be long.
Looked like I had no other choice. Drowning in my own blood. Not the way I thought I’d go. I would much prefer going in my sleep or dying on impact in some accident. With a family no less. Was it so wrong to want more than death for yourself. Obviously the fates hated me.
Won’t be long.
Dear God, why couldn’t the pain just end? Why?
Moments to live…
I always knew those online dating sites would be the death of me. …Kind of… Probably…Not really.
