Author's Note: This story is AH/AU/OOC and rated M for a reason. Read at your own risk. It is also set in Texas, of what I have limited knowledge, so please excuse that. I hope you enjoy and please review!
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all its inclusive material. I just own an imagination.
Heavy bass faded into obscurity behind me. I sobbed and screamed and scraped for a breath of air in my laboured lungs. My feet lagged. I fell hard to the cold earth.
My hands scratched against gravel as I went to catch myself. My knees skidded, grass staining my jeans. My arm scratched against the gravel, slicing my elbow. I felt a stinging, searing, putrid pain as blood pumped towards my injuries; heavy, glugging blood. It stained my clothes and trickled down my freezing skin, leaving a trail of sordid heat in its wake.
I clutched at my wound and the wounds you couldn't see. They were the wounds that wouldn't heal. They were cut by him.
Blood was everywhere. Blood made me queasy. The pain was just too real.
My heart ached. My body shuddered with the overflow of emotions I tried ever so desperately to block out. Tears streamed down my face. Blood seeped through my fingers.
Ashes to ashes, we all fall down.
I heard that chant in my mind, replaying like a broken record; raspy, harsh and callous. It was an evil whisper in my thumping ears. I was being pulled down. I was being dragged into the oblivion below.
If you strike a match, you're going to feel the flame.
His words from all those weeks ago repeated themselves as I lay, pained and aching on the hard earth. I had struck the match. I had gotten close. Now I was feeling the flame.
You'd think I would have listened.
My hands, doused in my own blood, clambered along the wet grass and gravel as I scrambled to my feet. Blood coated the damp. It would soon be washed away by the rain; the wet; the storm.
Wash it clean, I begged, turning my face to the crying clouds as a thunder clap sounded overhead. The storm that was brewing had come. Wash everything away.
I was broken and beaten on the cold, hard earth. Darkness flooded me; surrounded me; boxed me in. I had always hated the darkness. It woke me up.
I was shattered beyond repair. I felt mutilated and twisted, like my soul and my heart had been ripped from my body. I felt like I had been kicked in the gut with a big metal boot.
He had destroyed everything.
I was running. I would run. I wouldn't do it anymore. I couldn't do it anymore.
I pushed my legs further; faster. I wouldn't stop moving. I pushed myself through the pain; the blood; the emptiness. I wouldn't stop running. I had to flee. I had to get away.
I had to take flight.
Fly away, I told myself. Fly away from him. Fly away from it all.
"What do you think it's like to fly?"
Memories of that day at the beach came back to me, tearing and teasing my broken body.
He shrugged, cracking a small smile that made my heart melt. "It depends why you're doing it and where you're going."
I didn't want it anymore.
Follow the moon, I told myself. She will take you home.
Maybe, I thought in a whim of hope. From these ashes something beautiful will rise..