Broken shades (Twilight)(Embry Call)

The Edge of Darkness

"Paragraph Lyric
Love of mine some day you will die,
But I'll be close behind.
I'll follow you into the dark.

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white;
Just our hands clasped so tight,
Waiting for the hint of a spark.
If heaven and hell decide,
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:

If there's no one beside you,
When your soul embarks;
Then I'll follow you into the dark."
-I Will Follow You Init the Dark-Death cab for Cutie

**Chapter 7: The Edge of Darkness**

Kayla had grown used to the silence. It was her constant companion, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket, stifling any hope she might have had left. She could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the next room, the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath her feet. But mostly, it was just quiet, and that was how she liked it.

It was easier to cope when everything was still. When the world around her was as lifeless as she felt inside, it made it easier to pretend that everything was fine. That she was fine.

The bruises beneath her sunglasses had finally started to fade, the yellow and purple splotches blending into the natural tan of her skin. But the pain lingered, a dull throb that never really went away. She hadn't been able to look at herself in the mirror for weeks—didn't want to see the hollowed-out shell that stared back at her.

Kayla pulled her baggy hoodie tighter around herself, the fabric hanging loose on her shrinking frame. She hadn't eaten much lately, had no appetite for anything other than the comfort of being alone. Even Jacob and Quil had started to leave her alone, and she told herself it was better that way. Safer.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the unopened textbook in front of her, when she heard the front door slam open. The sound shattered the stillness, sending a jolt of fear through her that she couldn't suppress.

He was back.

Her father's heavy footsteps pounded against the wooden floor, growing louder as he approached. Kayla's heart raced in her chest, and she gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. She had hoped, prayed even, that he wouldn't come back tonight. That he'd find somewhere else to be, someone else to torment. But the prayers of a broken girl meant nothing.

"Kayla!" her father's voice boomed through the small house, thick with the slur of too much alcohol. "Where the hell are you, you worthless brat?"

Kayla's stomach twisted in fear, and she forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath her. Maybe if she faced him head-on, he would lose interest faster. Maybe he'd pass out before he could do any real damage. She had to believe that, or she wouldn't be able to move at all.

"I'm here," she called out, her voice sounding far braver than she felt. She stepped into the hallway just as her father rounded the corner, his bloodshot eyes narrowing in on her with a look of pure hatred.

"There you are," he snarled, stumbling forward. The smell of whiskey clung to him like a second skin, making Kayla's stomach churn.

"What do you want?" Kayla asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She knew better than to provoke him, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Her father's hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm with a painful grip. "Don't you talk to me like that, you little bitch," he hissed, his spittle landing on her cheek. "You think you're better than me? You think you can just sit here, doing nothing, and disrespect me?"

Kayla winced as his fingers dug into her skin, but she didn't pull away. That would only make things worse. "No, I didn't mean—"

"Shut up!" he roared, throwing her to the ground with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. Kayla hit the floor hard, her head bouncing against the cold wood. The pain was immediate, sharp and overwhelming, but she didn't cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She tried to push herself up, but her father was already on her, kicking her in the ribs with the steel-toed boots he always wore. Kayla gasped, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to protect her body from the blows. Each kick sent a wave of agony through her, the sickening crunch of bones breaking beneath his relentless assault.

She didn't know how long it lasted—minutes, hours. Time had no meaning when you were on the edge of consciousness, teetering between life and death. All she knew was the pain, the overwhelming pain that consumed her completely.

At some point, her father's rage seemed to subside, his breathing ragged as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Kayla lay on the floor, her body broken and bleeding, her vision blurred by tears she hadn't realized she'd shed.

"Worthless," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're just like your mother. Weak. Pathetic."

Kayla couldn't respond, couldn't even lift her head. Every part of her hurt, and she could feel herself slipping away, the darkness closing in around her. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how it would all end, and a small, twisted part of her welcomed the release.

Her father stumbled out of the room, leaving her there on the floor, a crumpled, bleeding mess. Kayla blinked slowly, the edges of her vision growing darker with each passing second. She tried to take a breath, but it hurt too much, and she could feel the life draining out of her.

Is this how it ends? she thought, the words slipping through her mind like a whisper. Is this how I die?

She blinked again, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The darkness was pulling her under, drowning her in its cold embrace. And for a moment, she let it. She let herself sink into the nothingness, the sweet relief of not feeling anything anymore.

Her body was too broken to fight, too shattered to care. And as her eyes closed for what she thought would be the last time, she whispered a silent goodbye to the world that had been so cruel to her.

Everything went black.