I couldn't help myself from staring at the young boy, covered in his own blood, sprawled out across my blankets. The smell was making my throat burn, and my nose itch. The smell filled my nose with such intensity. The only smell that made me stand up straight and made my senses come alive like no other. I could taste the iron of a thousand pennies in my mouth. I licked my lips, and I was tempted right then and there to rip out his throat.
You have to keep him safe, you can't kill him Elizabeth. She reminds me.
Well, shit. I guess she's right.. I don't know what it is about him that makes me so protective over him. Maybe it's his charming looks, even though, he's beat to the death almost. I wonder what his voice sounds like.
Is it high pitched?
Is it deep?
Does he talk fast?
Are his sentences dragged out, or does he make sure to say every syllable and word to perfection?
I glanced towards my bed only to see him almost completely covering the whole thing. Hit body was interwined in the sheets, and his chest was bare. I noticed a black ink covering his upper torso, and a huge .... butterfly on his stomach?
I swear, if that is a pun for 'Butterflies in my stomach', I'm going to dive a stake straight through my heart, my own self..
I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him laying there on my bed, though. Even though the kid just got his ass literally beat.. He reminded me of a teenage boy without a care in the world, but I could tell by his muscular build and broad shoulders, that he was no teenager. Probably in his early twenties, or late teen's.
He seemed so peaceful; his breath heaving up and down- slow but steady. The look on his face looked pained, but I could tell he was only having a bad dream.
I felt a sharp pressure come over my temples, and I started to get an aching head ache. I knew I was about to have a look into his dreams. It's nothing that I really like doing, because I feel like I'm invading a very personal part of someone's life. I could tell that this dream was of some significance, because the pressure was way too sharp on my temples.
And that's when the dream startedd, and a woman in her mid-thirties with long dark brown hair, and piercing green eyes, was running frantically away from someone; or something.
I could only make out the screams and the footsteps following the woman. Then a dark figure over took her, ceasing all noise. Then- a crunching sound came and the intense sound of flesh being ripped from the woman overcame my eardrums.
I shook my head from side to side, shaking the thought.
Who was this woman, and why was this person killing her? My thoughts were quickly interrupted whenever the boy shot up in bed, looking around the room. Droplets of sweat overtook his features, his eyebrows furrowing together, and his eyes finally met mine.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. I tried my best to read his thoughts, but nothing came to me.
That's odd.. I can read his dreams, but not his thoughts?
"Don't worry, kid. You're fine here.. I sort of picked you up out of the alleyway.. I heard something about owing someone money? Don't worry about that, I've got it covered." I spoke to the boy, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him. Still nothing.
He just stared back at me with wide eyes, and a worried look on his features. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, not knowing what this world is filled with.
"Uh.. I. Erm.. Who are you?"
Finally.
"I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz, or Beth. Either one is fine." I gave him a sly smile, hoping to make him feel a little more at ease. If anything, he should feel safe here with me.
He doesn't know what I am, but he sure can't find out. I could be in grave danger for someone-- a human; finding out who.. Or better yet, what I am. I would have a stake driven through my cold chest if The Originals found out, then I would be burned to where my remains only consisted of ashes.
"Okay..." he took a deep breath before speaking again, releasing a heavy sigh.
"You didn't have to do that for me Elizab-- Liz. Thank you, though. I really appreciate it."
I shot him a sympathetic smile, still hoping to make him feel somewhat better.
"You have no idea, kid. It was no problem, really. Don't thank me."
"Well, where are my manners," he ran his ringers through his hair, and slowly stood off of the bed. The blood was now off of his body, but I'm sure he was still a little sore.
"No no, you need to lay down.. you'll be sore for a couple of days."
He nodded his head and sat back down on the bed, pulling the blankets around his body.
"Like I was saying, I'm Harry. Still, thank you so much for what you did. You didn't have to do that. they could kill you, you know.."
Yes, I did. And no, they can't. I chuckled to myself, but put on a scared face.
"They'll what?"
"They'll kill you, Elizabeth. They're not good people."
"Don't worry about it, Harry. I think I can handle myself."
I ran a little too fast and jumped on the bed in front of him, hovering above him. I think I gave that one away a little too fast.
"What are you?" Harry said, sitting up in my now, messy bed.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Harry. But you've just got to trust me. I'm not like you.."
He scooted as far back as he could to the headboard and covered himself in my blankets.
"Why am I here?" He asked me, shaking with tears brimming his eyes.
"I have to protect you, Harry."
Little did I know, those words could or couldn't get us all killed.
