The Girl Who Was Taken (Renesme Cullens Twin Sister)

Seven

I hacked up blood. Trying to gasp for breath, but drowing in the liquid instead. It dripped from my mouth, and I spit it out. It didn't taste like blood. Not how blood should taste. I'd never drink blood if it tasted like this. It was vile. Horrendous. Disgusting.

The way Daddy looked at me said otherwise though. Torn and wanting. His eyes the color of coal. He hovered over me. Touched my cheek, I thought he was comforting me but he brought his fingers up before his eyes and then licked them. Like he couldn't control himself. Like I was just another meal to him.

He was shaking. Why did he have to do this. Why could he never get enough blood.

He dipped his head down to my cheek, inches above my face. He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip. "No," he struggled, "I--" 

He had a grip on my arm. I felt it only slightly. Like it was a ghost arm, and not even their anymore. Spittle and blood erupted from my lips in another hacking cough. I felt like I was drowning again, but this time I wasn't under water. My blood was warm as it dripped down chin. My skin burned though, and it quickly froe over as it touhed the frozen air.

"Don't let me hurt you," he shuddered, barely breathing. He shook my arm screaming, "l don't want to hurt you."

I couldn't breath, I was drowning in my own blood. I didn't even know I had blood before now. I didn't want it. Not when it hurt everything. It was hurting Daddy. And he was hurting me. And everything got hurt.

I looked up at him. Daddy was supposed to keep me safe. Daddy was supposed to love me. Why did it have to hurt so much?

"Don't let me--" He kept saying.

I gurgled, trying to talk, trying to empty my lungs of liquid.  Taking sharp breaths that stabbed deep into my chest. "N-"

"Yes, talk," he commanded, grabbing my face in his hands. Taking his attention away from my blood and focusing on my eyes. If he could cry, he definitely would be at that moment. "Talk to me."

"No," I sputtered.

"No," he repeated. The clamps on my head released, he stumbled back. Taking steps away from me. "I can't," he said. "I can't." And with that he disappeared. He ran away, like he ran away from everything. He was a runner, I always knew he was. But I never thought he'd ever have to run away from me.

Staring up at a sky full of flurries, I lay by myself in a mound of snow, covered in my own blood. Sirens were furiously rising in and out of existence, demanding to be heard. Lights flickered here and there. But I wasn't there. I was gone, sailing through space, lost in the whimsical essence of it all.