Drawing Blood

Chapter Seven

I was unable to sleep that night, and I spent great deal of time struggling to accept the situation for what it was, until I came to the resolution that if Adam wanted me to leave this place, then I would. But only without him.

I don't exactly remember what finalised my decision, but I did know that it was a little before four in the morning when I finally found the courage to fling myself out of bed; concluding that I needed to leave as soon as possible and go into hiding on my own. Pulling on jeans and a heavy jumper, I was soon fumbling in the dark for my holdall, my mind sagging under the weight of the conversation we'd shared the day before.

Adam's admission that he, or indeed any other werewolf, could detect my whereabouts just by tracking my scent and voice had left me slightly paranoid, and it was as though a giant spotlight had been cast directly over me, illuminating my whereabouts; leaving me unable to hide in the shadows, where I liked. Because of this, I had hardly spoken a whole sentence to Will in the last twelve hours, through fear of being overheard. And I had waited for him to go up to bed, before sneaking into the cupboard under the stairs to retrieve the gun; grabbing the box of bullets, stashing everything in the wardrobe in order to protect us both, should the worst happen.

I knew I would be putting Will in danger, if I stayed any longer. And that thought stayed with me when I closed the bedroom door behind me with a soft click, pausing outside his room to listen for the slightest sound. I stood there for a moment, a part of me wondering if he had left early to go fishing for the day, another part of me wishing he was in there and would wake up and stop me. My actions were going to destroy him, I knew that, and I hated having to hurt him. But I didn't really have a choice. He wasn't a stupid man, and if I left this place with Adam, he was bound to work out that we had runaway together. No. If was going to leave him, I needed to make it look like I had done it on my own accord, and I was the one who was having the problem staying here with him, and that we weren't suitable.

Satisfied he wasn't home, I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and scrub my face. As I stared at myself in the mirror, not really recognising my reflection, I thought back over the past few months. Not only had my life drastically changed, so too had my appearance. My dark hair had grown longer since the summer, now hanging just below my breasts like a liquid curtain, and my eyes seemed almost black against my porcelain skin. There were dark shadows beneath them from lack of sleep and nutrition, and I could easily see why Will had become worried about my health. To him, I must have looked like a living, breathing, China doll; ready to break in the wrong hands. It was no wonder he was always telling me I was wasting away in front of him.

Grabbing my foundation, I quickly smoothed it over my face to add some colour to my complexion. I then ran a brush through my hair, hurriedly tying it back; throwing everything that belonged to me in the holdall. I left the bathroom just as quietly as I'd entered it. I didn't want to stay longer than necessary, and it didn't take me long to descend the stairs; carefully avoiding all those I knew would creak. I did it automatically, more than anything. As I dropped my stuff at the bottom of the stairs, I tried to convince myself it wasn't just him I was protecting; I was also giving myself a chance. Spending the rest of my life on the run in order to escape a grisly death, might have been a depressing thought, but so too was having to live with myself if anything were to happen to Will. Regrettably, this was my responsibility and no-one else's. If I was to have any hint of a normal existence, any comfort from knowing he was protected, then I was going to have to suck it up, and do the right thing.

I deliberately avoided Sofia's pictures as I entered the kitchen. As my real mother, she had the same features as me. In fact, there was very little to tell us apart. That was another reason why I had to go. It was hard on Will having me here, and I sometimes wondered if he spent so little time with me because I reminded him of her. She had died shortly after giving birth to me, and he hadn't coped well. I had been raised by his sister, led to believe she was my mother, until that fateful night when Adam...