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Chapter 22: Mother of Lies.
~~~ [START]
In a room which was overwhelmed by the comfort of darkness.
“Can’t sleep?” Troy whispered. And Honey, who, unlike him, was sleeping on the bed, softly giggled.
“No,” Honey said, her eyes trailing to the shadows of the roof. Then she turned her head toward his direction, but he was sleeping on the floor, so the only thing she saw was the empty air above him. “The sun’s already up.”
Troy’s head turned to the window, then frowned.
It was already 5 a.m., so they had been up the whole night. And even then, they barely said anything; they didn’t even speak. This was probably because Troy was still complicating his next move, and as for Honey, she was still trying to figure out how she could believe what he explained.
Yes, she did remember how he seemed to phase through the door the night before, but as for him being a vampire, she thought it was something he might have made up. Or maybe a condition that made him believe he was something he wasn’t. The whole night she had been coming up with ways to disprove what he claimed.
All the way from iron deficiency to outright albinism. Yet, no matter what she would think, it all came back to the same conclusion; he was unnatural.
So, seeing how there were no other explanations, she swore to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Are you coming back with me?” Honey asked, with one of her fingers continually tapping the blanket.
Troy opened his mouth, but instead of his voice, a needless breath followed.
“You have to,” Honey continued in a whisper. “You said it yourself, Forks is the best location, right…? It rains all year long.”
“I can’t—” Troy tried to interrupt.
“What if they eat me?” Honey shot again. And a dull silence followed. “You promised to do everything I want. We said three times.”
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Troy’s hands clenched under the blanket that covered him. “The deal was twice—”
“Stay,” she said, his words overwhelming him to oblivion. “For me.”
—---
{ELSEWHERE}
In a room covered in art, Alice sat in the middle, her eyes staring with all focus as she knitted an incomplete dress, which, in truth, didn’t yet deserve the title.
The wind blew from the open window, sending with it a pencil which was lying on a table on the room’s far left.
“You didn’t knock, Edward,” Alice said, her voice between sweet and impatient.
Edward stepped forward, hands clenched into fists. “He killed someone, didn’t he?”
“No,” Alice stood up, then turned to him. “And you ain’t supposed to read my thoughts—”
“You didn’t think it was important to tell us?” His voice hissed louder.
“It didn’t happen.” Alice moved and placed both hands on his arms. “Edward, nothing happened.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “Is that how he killed Carlisle? He cut his head?”
“Stop reading my thoughts.” She turned, walked back to her dress, sat, then continued knitting.
“What about Emmett?” Edward tried to provoke, stepping closer as his words, much like a devil, carried deception and prideful intent. “How did Jasper die?”
“Edward—”
“What about Rosalie? Edythe? Esme? Me—?”
“Stop reading my thoughts—!”
“Stop thinking!”
KNOCK! KNOCK!
The interruption from the door wasn’t even an interruption; they both heard when the person approached.
Then the door opened, and Esme’s figure walked in.
“Calm down, dear,” Esme said.
But Edward grunted under his breath, retreated to the door, not even daring to glance back.
Esme smiled at him awkwardly when he passed her figure. Then she sighed, walked forward while closing the door behind her, and sat on a small stool right next to Alice. And her face turned sad when her eyes trailed on Alice’s hand, which was knitting the dress, slightly trembling.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t help it—”
“It’s okay, dear.” Esme interrupted Alice’s words, her hand raising and falling on her shoulders.
And Alice closed her eyes from the touch, but even after the drain of seconds, nothing came out.
No tears, no moisture. Just dryness, only accompanied by the presence of facial act, or in this case, a hint at emotion.
“Tell me,” Esme said, her hand and arm tightening around Alice, who finally stared back. “How is he?”
—---
{ELSEWHERE}
“Come on, Gina, your uncle’s a mechanic.” Troy shook his head at Honey, who was giggling while entering the passenger seat. “No, I’ll pay, I just… that’s just too expensive, it’s just a steering wheel.”
Honey giggled louder when Gina shouted “Then fix it yourself!” from the other end of the call, a shout loud enough even for her, who was seated steps apart, to hear.
“Yeah, nah, I’m not saying that… hell no, go to hell. Okay, okay, only if you bring it down to ten percent.” A smile softly appeared on Troy’s lips when Gina agreed, but then a cringed expression followed. “Fine. I… I love… I love y… you.”
Honey laughed from the passenger seat. Loud enough to affect Troy, who later laughed back.
~~~ [END]
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Join my PT for extra Chapters ~ p*tr-eon name is DUSK_IS_MEE
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