Crescent • A Twilight Story

Prey

I watched people pass by as she sat waiting near the round about. They looked. That was it.

It unhinged me.

I supposed in the same twisted sense my mom watched a documentary on the way farm animals were treated, insisting we only buying free-ranged meats. It softened the guilt of eating the chicken for her, to know it was treated better.

I wanted Rory to be treated well, even if I also wanted to destroy her. Even if it made no sense at all.

"I'll be right back." I called to Harry, sprinting across the field and jumping the fence. She hadn't seen me coming, twitching as I spoke.

"Waiting for my mom?"

Her chapped lips quivered. She wouldn't quite meet my eyes, but I found myself wishing she would. Hers were an intensely dark shade of blue today, perhaps from the purple bags beneath them.

"You don't talk much do you?"

Wind caught her glorious scent, a mixture of something floral like lavender and fresh like mint.

The fire was dying down, not quite as intense as before.

"There's not much to say." She weakly offered.

The human part of me, the weakest part, was forced to take control.

"Well, it's Wednesday. My friends and I usually do pizza and video games. You should come with."

"I don't know."

"What've you got to lose?" She straightened a little, and then miracle of all miracles, gave the slightest nod.

"After practice I'll come knocking. Probably two hours from now."

Mom pulled up then, and I waved. Rory stood, her book slipping out of her hands. We reached for it at the same time, the edge of our fingers barely connecting. A spark shot across my arm, as if tendrils of ice curled against my skin.

She ran off before I could process what was going on with my body, the energy between us dulling.

Meeting back up with the guys, Harry waved his phone. "Duke texted. Said he'll see us later but his grandma needs a ride to an appointment."

They suggested a quick run in the woods, and I kept everything I'd been thinking to myself. We practiced our drills for perimeter sweeps, their minds all focused on the girl.

I saw her face from varying angles, mostly in the filter of disappointment. Only Harry had imprinted after he turned, the rest desperate to feel what they saw in his mind.

Of course, Harry was a safe place. His new love of Gemma formed in respect and honor.

The others looked at Rory like a failed shot at happiness and not the tortured soul she clearly was.

She certainly wasn't my true happiness either. Not with so many questions. Not with all her pain. And mine.

Not with what I had seen.

And yet, a part of me wished if I was meant to feel anything for the girl, it'd be to protect. Not this hunger. Or the consequences of a little taste.

I stood at her door all showered up nonetheless, ultimately because self-destruction ran in my family. And I supposed I was no exception to that streak.

I could hear her approach, her face all blotchy and red as she answered.

"You alright?"

"I'm sorry." Her voice grew hoarse. "Maybe you should go ahead without me."