Seventeen Fireflies

Eventually, you learn to stop counting. Rated M. Dark themes. Angst. ExB.

Chapter One

It's never occurred to me how fireflies light up the sky at night. Sure, they're beautiful, but isn't everything when the world is dark? It's almost as if they choose an exact moment in time to illuminate my surroundings when no light exists. I wouldn't call it plotting, but do they know? Are they sure this will be the last time I enjoy them, the last time I will smile at their brightness?

They know, this I'm positive of. If I could look back, and alter my actions, I would have stepped off of Dad's old, rickety porch. I would have gone inside like he asked me to, instead of sneaking a smoke on the step that barely held my weight. I would have washed the dishes and scrubbed the burnt spaghetti from the bottom of the pot. I would have stopped and asked Dad if he wanted a drink, even though he held a bottle of Corona in his hand. Most of all, I would have kissed his cheek. He would've laughed, pretended to wipe off my slobber, and asked for another.

But in life, there are no do-overs.

Just the haunting image of Edward Cullen running towards me, his white shirt torn and bloodied to hell.

Thanks for reading.

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