Desires

•CHAPTER LIX•

My finger grip the chair arms as tightly as they are bound to the wood, waiting in agonising suspense for whatever was to come to me.

She dips her fingers in the red bowl of blackness and walks over to me. She whispers something and bends down to my height.

"Are you ready?" She asks and I have no option but to nod over fear.

Her dipped fingers press against my temples, a short spacious hesitation runs through my head until a hot searing pain begins spreading. I'm sweating and all of a sudden I'm wriggling uncomfortably trying to get rid of the pain and writhe out of her pressing fingers. But she doesn't move. Her fingers stay pressing at the side of my temples hard as if they were cemented there and her eyes close.

All of a sudden she says "parentibus" and it's like a lever has been pulled for the gush of pain that rushes through my temples. Worse than any migraine I have ever had and more powerful that my throat closes and I can't breathe without screaming from the top of my lungs relentlessly as my neck cranes back and my eyes can only see through my tears. But soon enough I don't see anything at all. Because I'm back in Oakton.

I hear a dripping sound coming from my bedroom.
I walk toward the familiar wooden door and push it open with my palm. The hinges creek as I stare upon the scene.

A little dark haired sits on the floor cross legged playing with her teddy bear. On the white carpet in front of her is the lifeless body of a woman in her late twenties.

The dripping sound is the blood, tipping from the mantle piece. My eyes follow the red substance to the Jane Doe on the floor with a pool slowly forming around her crushed head.
The door creeks more and the little girl turns to me. Our eyes meet. Her bright blue eyes framed by dark lashes blink at me before turning away again to play with her brown bear as if her nanny wasn't laying dead before her.

Another drip.

I'm looking at another girl. The same girl only a few years older in the same room only the bears have been replaced by barbies and there's a doll house sitting in the corner.

She's kneeling down, impersonating both barbie's in her hands, turning around to meet my eyes before glancing to her window.
More red stains the window dripping from the frame as a body keels over with her head hanging between her legs, sliced right off her neck with a clean cut.
"Play?" The blue eyes girl says and skips over to me hopping over the dead legs of the body.
Her blue eyes lock with mine. I can see my own eyes in hers, the same pale glisten that lingers.

Drips. More drips and I'm shoved into new memories with more bloody bodies not only in her room but everywhere. In the living room, on the stairs and even in the kitchen.

I glance across at the dark haired child, swinging her legs off her chair as she sips on a glass of milk.
A new bloody body hanging over the kitchen counter.

"What have you done?" A shaken voice whispers and I turn around to see a younger face. The younger face of my mother.
Her jaw drops open and looks past me to the little girl sitting in the kitchen.

She can't see me.

"Marcus!" She shrieks and drops her handbag before running out and shutting the door.

The little girl looks unfazed and finished her glass.

Our father walks in and takes one look at the body before walking slowly toward the little girl.
He steps carefully over the dripping blood in his smart shoes. Always in his suit and tie.

His expression is emotionless as he makes his way over. The little girl is wide eyed and looks up at her father only to receive a ruffle in her hair. She looks relieved. Until her father pressed the pressure point near her neck and she passed out, slamming her head on the table.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I see Azra. Thirteen year old Azra looking at herself in the mirror. It's not anyone else's blood that's dripping. It's hers.

It's from a small cut on her forehead. She leans in front of the mirror carefully and picks out a tiny shard with tweezers, laying it on the side of the sink with a small clink.

"Where are you?!" A female voice shouts and the door handle to the bathroom rattles aggressively. There's banging on the door with a heeled foot, the blue eyes girl looks scared and turns around instantly. Her breaths are hitched and tears pour down her face in fear as she tries to push herself back against the wall to get away. But she can't because the wall stops there and her life continues with that rattling door handle by her mother.

Our mother.

–
Romeo's point of view
–

Her ear piercing scream of pain rings through my ears and into the back of my brain. I wince and cling onto the kitchen counter.

"We have to stop her." I say between my clenched teeth that feel like they want to rip out Miss Vissa's eyes.

"Romeo, sit down. You're making us all nervous." Lexi says.

We're all shaken up by the screams from Azra. It sounds inhumane and brings me more pain than anything I have ever heard in my years.

She is inhumane.

I can't take it anymore and I stand in front of the door but one of the wolves beats me to it with his hand firm on the door.

"You can't interrupt as much as you would like to." He says sternly. "I don't like it, none of us do. But it is what it is."
I look down at him and I can hear it in his heartbeat and smell it in his chemosignals that he's just as uncomfortable as I am.
"How long do you think she's got left?" I ask.
Cole shrugs. "As long as it takes I guess."
"It's already been an hour." I say impatiently.
I can tell he's getting aggravated now. "She's got a lot of memories that she's hiding. You should know." He remarks.
"What are you trying to suggest?"
"Nothing, I was just saying. Actually that's ironic seeing as you kept the whole secret from her the whole damn time. You knew way before any of us. Does she know about the meetings or did you leave that out too?" He takes a suggestive step forward.

The cold still blood in my veins would boil if they could at this moment. "I would step back if I were you or else my fangs will find your clavicle." I say and I can hear his heartbeat pace one step quicker in fear. "Are you Levi or Cole? My guess is Cole. The late bloomer. I can smell the humaness all over you. Even more than I can smell on Jack." I snide with a smirk on my face.

He looks threatened for a second before he hides it with ignorance.

Not a good choice.

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authors note:

sooo i thought i would switch up the POV for the first time!

what do you think? likey or no likey?

thank you so much for reading, please vote/comment, it means so much to me.

have a brilliant week.

-kiim