??A Howl In The Night ??
?(She’s Mine)?
?Chapter 9?
Why Am I Always The Damsel In Distress?
The ghostly figure zooms towards me, its deathly intent clearly evident. However, I don’t notice its speed at all, my mind suspended in a hazy fog of memories that are coming together, returning at an alarming speed. The screams I had heard earlier starts again, reverberating throughout my thoughts, distracting me from the present. I clearly hear two voices, one high pitched and the other a little lower but still womanly. The one that clearly belonged to an older woman strikes pain in my chest, recognition forcing itself to the surface. That beautiful voice, contorted with pain and surprise…
Mom. My eyes widen as everything comes back; the pain, the sorrow, the hurt.
The tears start to flow as the ghost hastens to meet his destination. I can remember every detail now; the way those creatures had delved into him… when his eyes turned a frightening red…
It finally reaches me, barely more than a whisper of air, charging towards my chest. However, the ghost bounces off, my body suddenly surrounded with an eerie glow. What is this? It is green and bright, like the emerald in my ring, almost like one of those auras I have read about in fantasy books.
I back up against a huge oak tree, fear mounting in my heart. Am I going to live against this deathly thing? How can I fight against something I don’t even understand?
I watch the deathly creature, at its cloudy form and its bright red eyes. They are like lasers, ripping into me, seizing my terror and amplifying it. My heart beats faster as the horrifying eyes squint, determination in its depths. Foreboding races through my blood, symbolizing what is to come.
I wrap my arms around my knees, burying my face into my legs as the ghost once again zooms my way. This, I suppose, is my punishment for disobeying Xavier’s orders. But how was I supposed to know there is a way out of the boundaries without crossing the moat?!
Peeking once more at the apparition, I almost shriek as I survey its closeness. It seems to be observing the things around me, as if it is looking for something. I shudder as it crosses its murderous gaze across my body, hunched up into a tiny ball. It looks at the tree behind me, a huge one that might even be four foot in diameter, and smirks with its beady eyes. With a screech that cuts through the air and makes my blood run cold, the white blur of energy delves into the oak tree, making me wonder exactly what is going on.
I stand up, turning to face the tree as it suddenly whirs with energy. Bright, fire-like sparks explode from the trunk, blood seeming to run down it. It rapidly grows in size, from four feet in diameter to around five feet, and who knows how much taller. Before, it seemed to be rather lifeless, an old tree that had reached its peak, but somehow, it now looks youthful. Scarier.
This tree is taller than the others by far, stretching to reach the clouds. I am fervently wishing for the werewolves to see it, but they are probably consumed with whatever they are talking about. It sounded important when I tried to eavesdrop, though I didn’t quite understand their topic.
It is Ray’s fault, I think feverishly, for casting me out of their meeting room. He probably knew I would find some trouble to involve myself in. But I can’t truly blame it on him. It is my fault for taking those first steps towards the dangerous road. It is my fault for not sticking to the beautiful garden.
And now, I am going to pay.
The tree totters, swaying in that rough wind. My dress presses against me, forced back by the terrible gales. The force of the wind increases, nearly pushing me to the ground as the tree reaches full height and strength. It ripples with energy, the bright red crackling around it like lightning. The wind seems to circle around this giant monster, almost like a tornado with its speed and focus.
But then, there is a crack that stops my heart.
The tree suddenly snaps, the red energy possessing it still. The breaking of the suddenly colossal tree surprises me; with its newfound strength, it seemed to be invincible. It almost looks to be a deliberate breaking, the now severed trunk cut cleanly and smoothly. How is it doing that? What is going on?
I hardly notice the tree as the rest of it tumbles towards me, my thought muddled with confusion. It must be the ghost. The ghost is controlling the tree!
Wait… I glance upwards, at the blur of speed as it travels to squish me. “Oh no,” I whisper, my voice shriveled and weak. I try to scream, but I can’t. I am frozen solid with pain, fear, and hate.
I can’t move.
I can’t think.
I really am going to die, aren’t I? No more silly games of hide and seek. Death has found me, sinking his talons into my skin. Glaring at me with his giant red eyes that haunt my memories.
But what, truly, do I have to live for?
I think of a certain man, with emeralds for eyes and azure hair that sparkles in the bright sunlight. He would miss me for sure.
My cheeks burn as a tear runs past my eyelashes, down my chin, onto my ratty clothes. I wonder why I am crying, when I had tried to commit suicide only two days ago. But so much has changed since then. There is so much more…
Right before the tree hits the ground, squelching me in the process, there is a thump. Glancing upwards, I wonder why I am not dead yet. Why the pain is only inside of me, blinding my thinking. There are no scratches on my arms and legs, only dirt and leaves, making me wonder if this is only a dream. There is no way this can happen in real life. I am just going cr@zy, imagining such nonsense.
But then why does my head hurt so much?
I stagger, scanning the area for the tree with the evil red sparks. Everything is going blurry, the screams blocking everything. My mother’s thin voice, repeating itself over and over and over…
“Are you okay?” a familiar voice erupts through the void, ripping its way towards my understanding. I blink, my eyes focusing. The masculine voice seems to harness my thoughts and drag it to reality, everything becoming clearer.
It is then that I notice that the tree is lying to the side of me, held by a man who has saved my life three times in the past two days. His muscled arms bulge as he lays the colossal tree on the ground, his beautiful eyes widening at the red sparks exploding from it. The eyes narrow, his fist drawing back and slamming into the trunk of the tree. There is a boom, shaking me to my knees, like a tiny earthquake. I look up once more, to see the tree almost in splinters. The red is gone, and so is the ghost that vanished into it. How did he do that in one punch?
The handsome man runs my way, wrapping his firm arms around me concernedly. “Are you okay?” he repeats the question, taking one now gentle finger and stroking some strands of my ruby red hair. I lean against him for a second, dwelling in his warmth and comfort, trying to throw out the endless pain. There is silence, and then the hurt leaves me, only leaving cold memories that stain my heart.
“How did you do that?” I waste no time, grabbing one of his hands, marveling at the lack of cuts and splinters, “you made a little earthquake!”
He laughs, “it’s called an Earthquake Punch. It is something werewolves have to train for years and years to attain, and one of the six Talents. Now answer my question.”
“Well, I’m not hurt, but…” I squeeze his hand tightly, almost delirious with confusion, “what was that ghost thing?”
His eyes widen, bafflement dancing across his features. “You… saw it?”
“Yeah. It was so scary, with its bright red eyes…” I shudder, causing him to pull me into a hug. I am too tired to care, although stiffening slightly at his movement.
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