My last suicide attempt

52

"No one. Touches. Avni." Vistoc hissed before cleanly, quickly snapping Edward's neck. Not one person moved. Everyone in the council stared on in shock, while the Others were probably weighing their options.

Before letting him fall to the floor limply, Vistoc dug his fangs straight into Edward's throat, letting the blood pour out before he threw the carcass in front of Stefan.

"There's your f*****g dinner." Vistoc shouted at the Others, before scooping Avni up into his arms, and he was gone. He might not be the toughest, but Vistoc was the fastest vampire in this dimension. He wasn't catchable - there was no way any of us could go after him.

Slowly, everybody turned to look at me. Madame was slammed into a rock by the council, who held him by his throat. Tessa and Olly were breathing heavily next to me, probably due to shock. The three of us, together stood as the Others descended towards us. The fog grew thick again, and the air went freezing cold again.

"You want another pretty little scar in your chest, Xian?" One of them - Theodore, I think his name was - growled. Before I knew it, Stefan had hold of my throat with one hand, and with the other he forced me onto my knees. Theodore ripped my white shirt open, exposing the scar that trailed down the centre of my torso from the night Erica had lethally staked me, only too close to my heart.

"Sirs, there are carvings!" Somebody screamed. "The prophecy, we've got it!"

Theodore flitted over to him, investigating the rock while Stefan still clutched at my throat. His nails dug into my skin, and I resisted the urge to flinch as I felt my blood rise to the now-open wounds. Stefan had come in front of me now, his hold still on my throat as he taunted a wooden stake in front of me with a smirk on his lips, as if that'd make me afraid.

But despite the fact I could be about to die (again, might I add), I couldn't help but wonder if Avni was all right...

I couldn't help but hope Vistoc knew the trouble he'd just caused.

Everything hurt. I felt numb inside, but my heartbeat was racing in my ears. I could feel it pounding against my rib cage, and I could feel the icy drops of sweat coat the back of my neck. A freezing cold breeze brushed over my hand, tingling all up my arm like an electric shock. But I could hear nothing but my heartbeat.

Was this death? Was this the "Limbo" people spoke of?

I couldn't be dead. If I were dead, nothing would hurt. But everything hurt, as if reminding me this was real. As if reminding me that I really had sacrificed my life for a bunch of leeches.

It hit me like a fire ball to my chest. I shot up in the bed that I'd been lying in, everything twitching and aching to move as if I'd been lying completely still for hours. My whole body felt stiff, and my neck burned with whiplash. My head was still sore, and the room around me was spinning. Gasping for breath, I blinked and looked around. A large oak-wood desk was sat in front of a big window that looked out at the rainy day. The bed I lay it had four posters with black drapes carelessly, yet neatly, wrapping around the posters. The sheets themselves were also black and a velvety fabric; not warm, bur comfortable enough for my liking. There was a large wooden wardrobe opposite the king sized bed I lay in, closed with a key in the keyhole. On the other side of the desk sat a grand piano, so gorgeous, just begging to be played. A guitar sat pressed against the wall next to the wardrobe - and yes, it was black too. But it was beautiful, nonetheless.

I slid out of the bed, my bare feet touching the wooden floor. I stretched, my bones clicking, before glancing around once more. The door to the bedroom was shut, and so I was safely alone. It wasn't a place I recognised, but I knew I was with someone from Xian's clan. I could distinctively remember opening my eyes for a little while to see the guy who'd been growling carrying me, muttering that we'd be home and safe soon. Maybe I was silly to trust him.

Either way, I'd made some bad choices in my life. This could just be another.

I wandered over to the large oak wood desk, glancing down at some pages that had been scattered atop it. A black book sat on top of all of the papers, so I lifted the book into my hands, weighing it as I scanned the papers looking for a name as to who's room I was in. Sketches etched beautifully, delicately into the thick parchment were all I saw, with no name signed. But whoever did them was truly talented. They were drawings of scenery. However, eager as I was, I lay the black book aside and lifted each one of the papers, looking at all of the drawings before I came across one. One so... so detailed... so breath-taking.

A girl was sketched into the middle of the paper, her hair was long and wavy, curling down to just under her breastbone. Her figure was slim, a body to die for, and a midnight blue dress hugged every one of her beautiful curves. Her face was pretty and young, her eyes detailed more than the rest of the girl's body. Her mouth was tugged up into a small smile, and her eyes bored into mine. Around the edges of the parchment sat other sketches of eyes, as if they had been trying their hardest to get them just right. As if the eyes were the utmost important.

I smiled, before putting all the papers back and opening the book. Inside were instalments like a diary, somebody's thoughts and feeling poured onto pages. Other drawings and whatnot sat carelessly as doodles on some of the back pages, and etched into the front of the book, on the cover was; 'George Harryson'. My heart skipped a beat, and I carefully put the book down, worried I'd break it somehow.

I gnawed my lip, knowing already that this was Xian's bedroom. Why would someone else have the book belonging to his dead brother in their room?

Still curious, my eyes wandered to his acoustic guitar. I slowly walked over to it, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet as I did so. I blew the thin layer of dust off of it, and the motes were sent flailing into the air around me. I swished them away with my hand, and admired the guitar, running a finger across all the strings.

Something caught my eye on my hand, and I pulled it away from the guitar to look down at it. A thin white scar lay diagonally across my palm from where Edward's blade had cut into my flesh. I winced at the memory, but I began to wonder how it could have healed into a scar already. There wasn't much point in wondering - anything was possible when vampires were around.

A shrill icy breeze brushed across me, and I glanced down at myself to see my dress muddy and ripped. I sighed; it had been my favourite dress. That's what you get when you wear short dresses to a leech convention, I guess.

I stood up and turned around, my eyes grazing over every surface of Xian's bedroom. It was like every other, just slightly more gothic and somewhat richer. I gnawed down on my lip, wondering what to do. Did I just march out of the place and go straight home? Did I wait for someone to come up and get me?

I trailed my index finger down the neck of the acoustic guitar, my thoughts stringing and buzzing as a thousand and one questions raced in my mind. I could hear the rain pouring down hardly against the large window just to my left. I stared out at the horrible weather, the dark grey clouds rolling thicker over the skies. Clouding up the skies just as if they were clouding up my thoughts.

After minutes had ticked by, I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and turned my back on the guitar, on the window, and walked up to the door. I stared down at the door handle, its temptation taunting me. But it wasn't my house.

Wouldn't it be rude to just... stroll around the place?

But then again, the countless amount of times Xian was rude to me, walking around his house - if it was his house - was nothing compared to the things he'd done to me.

I wrenched the door open hesitantly, to be faced with a dimly lit hallway. There were windows on the ceiling, letting the dull daylight strike through into the dusty, gothic halls in a way that reminded me of an old fashioned horror film. Nonetheless, I exited the room, the feeling of relief washing over me as I left Xian's bedroom behind.

My heart was beating as fast as a humming birds wings, though. Something cold, something icy was creeping up my skin as I slowly made my way through the corridors. I turned the corner, and sighed to myself; the peak top of the stairs was just in view at the end of the hallway. I only had to get downstairs, and it wouldn't take much to find the front door.

Consciously, my walk slowed as my mind sped up. The images of today's events flashed before my eyes; the cold, hard stare in Xian's eyes that told me he wasn't coming to rescue me any time soon. The fact I had relied upon him... I felt stupidly humiliated to have even thought he cared. I couldn't be any more wrong.

But what had really made me really let down, was the fact I was looking up into chocolate brown eyes went I woke up in somebody else's arms. Running away from Stonehenge in the arms of my saviour - I could (perhaps gladly) say for sure, that my saviour wasn't Xian. No, I think he said his name was Vistoc or something.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice sounded behind me. It was only then that I realised I was at the bottom of the stairs, making my way to the large front door that stood before me. I whirled around, to see Xian stood leaning on a doorframe that led off into another room.

My blood ran like fire through my veins - the hatred literally boiling at the sight of him. The ground beneath me was spinning quicker than my eyes could percept, and my temper was rising. I could almost feel the scream building up, I could feel my fingernails dig into my palm as I clenched my fists.

"Careful!" Arms suddenly wrapped themselves around my waist as I felt the air rush around me. "Are you even breathing?"

I shoved at his chest, and he stumbled a step backwards, bewildered. I was breathing now, and it came in shallow gasps as I tried to bite back the scream I wanted to let out in his face.

"Don't," I whispered, not trusting my voice. "Just... don't." The anger began to disappear, and a numbness was overlapping in my chest as tears began to well in my eyes. The voice in my head was taunting me, words echoing, thoughts erupting in my mind...

He didn't care; he was just like the vampires at Stonehenge.

Cold, heartless, enjoying my pain.

He must enjoy seeing me hurt, because he was the one that so often hurt me.

But I shouldn't ever let him. I shouldn't let him hurt me the way he did. I shouldn't let him have such a control over me the way he did.

Never once did he care. I could see that now; the heartlessness, the cold tone he so often used on me was sickening. His sly tricks on my mind were too good for me to resist; I opened up to him. I let my mind unravel through my mouth, and I had had every single ounce of control.

But he didn't care.

My father's death?

He didn't care.

My mother's abusive side?

He didn't care.

My weak excuse for a life?

He never cared.

Never.

I wanted to resist my own mind. I wanted to refuse them; but I couldn't. For once, the voice and its ways were right.

"What have I done now?" Xian snapped harshly, bringing me back to reality.

I looked up at him with my tear-filled eyes. "Don't act like you don't know!"

He blinked, not understanding.

I shook my head. "I can't believe you. You didn't help me! Someone else had to save me, Xian, save me from a death that you were just going to stand by and watch! How could you?"

"You can't leave," he replied quietly. "Some cuts on your legs will get infected."

"What, so now you care?" I retorted. "If you cared at all, you would stay away from me. You would let me get away. Far, far away."

He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I want to keep you around."

"Well, I don't want to stay around," I whispered, my tears falling. "Not anymore. You were just going to watch me die, Xian. You can't just gain my trust like that." I clicked my fingers.

"Then go." He said coldly. "I won't stop you. But... can I ask of you one thing?"

"No."

He narrowed his eyes, but ignored my reply and continued anyway; "Think. Just... think. That's all I ask of you, is for you to think. Try to remember..."

"Remember what?" I snapped angrily.

He flitted in front of me, and I tumbled backwards into the door, wishing to be as far away from him as possible, but he just followed. He leaned down, his lips brushing up the length of my neck to my ear. His breath sent shivers up my spine, and my lips began to tremble again, the tears welling up more.

"What has once been remembered, can never truly be forgotten..." he whispered. "Just think."

He pushed himself away from me until he was standing on the other side of the room. I stared intently at him, confused. What the hell was he talking about? I couldn't stay here, not with him. I fumbled around with the door handle, and I wrenched the front door open wide, letting the rain and gusts of wind whirl inside harshly.

"I hate you." I whispered so quietly, that even he might mistake it for the wind. With that, I slammed the door after myself. I ran down the driveway, recognising the location easily the second the road came into view. I ran down the streets, past people I knew who tried to stop me and ask me what was wrong, but I ignored every call and every touch.

Nothing could stop this feeling gushing out of me.

Nothing could melt this ice cold hate running through me.

I burst through my front door, running through the house breathlessly. My mother wasn't home, and that made the temptation that much stronger. The drumming in my head was beating faster and faster, my mind was racing and everything was numb.

I jogged up the stairs and into my room. I reached under my bed, and pulled out my plain black rucksack, unzipping it. I whirled around to my wardrobe, grabbing any clothes in sight off of their hangers and shoving them into the bag. I slid out of my muddy, ripped dress and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, alongside a jacket. I tied my hair up into a loose bun at the back of my head, my choppy layers sticking out.

I glanced back into my bag, before zipping it up again.

I couldn't stop the uncontrollable sobs from escaping me. The tears kept coming; I was far too weak to release myself from the place I called home. I was far too weak to go ahead with this plan. But what I wouldn't give just to run.

I wiped the tears away, and something red caught my eye. There, on my pillow was a ruby-red rose. I stumbled over to it, reaching over and picking up the flower in my fingers lightly, avoiding the sharp thorns.

A little white piece of paper was attached to it by string. I flipped it over, and my heart raced, despite the hatred I felt so strongly. I fell back onto the bed, curling up into foetus position as I sobbed again. Why was life so difficult?

Why couldn't it just be normal? No vampires. No pain.

Just booze, partying and boys.

The thought only made me cry harder. My head was so screwed. And Xian was to blame; he messed me around, waiting until I was vulnerable before he cooed me with his warm, soft words. Once I'd felt comforted even in the slightest, he put the barriers up and froze himself a bag of hate to pour over me.

Once he'd released the hate, the cycle started again.

And I couldn't help but fall for it every time. I couldn't help but be enveloped in his fake care, his beautiful ways with words, and his stunning features looking only too caring for comfort. I wanted someone who cared.

I wanted... anyone.

And no doubt, surely I'd fall for his act again tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. It wouldn't be long.

My 'friends' were right; I could see it in their eyes what they thought about me - I was just weak little Avneet Jackson, unable to stand up for herself.

Unable to keep her heart in one piece.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

But I care.

Oh, I care too much.

Way, way too much for my own satisfaction. But not enough for his. He was probably just waiting to get me into bed like he did with all those other girls, before he sucked them dry. Use and abuse.

But he was different...

He confused me so much.

My heart felt like ice as it shattered into pieces, but my body felt warm despite the numbness as I skimmed over the words written on the piece of paper that was attached to the red rose that wasn't there when I came in.

There written on the white square in the neatest handwriting I'd ever seen, wrote;

"What has once been remembered, can never truly be forgotten."

Xian's tries.

Xian's plead.

Words I despise.

Words I need.

One question...

Why me?

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