The Waitress and the Wolf (Book 1 of The Guardian series)

Chapter 23. Flicker

I wish people would send in art, or banner work. I'll always feature it (;

This chapter will be in 3rd person for a good amount of it. Let me know how you like it!

The first to move was Moira, as she bent down to cradle Venus's head. The girl sobbed and sobbed, covering her face with her hands like a child.

Reese cast a nervous glance at Demetri, wondering what was going on inside that head he had, or rather a steel safe with a thousand number combo. His eyes were hard, but guilt swam in them as he just stood frozen staring at her. Moira rocked her back and forth, trying to whisper calming in things in her ear, but nothing could help her.

"Please, I'm so sorry Venus, I'm so sorry," Moira muttered, her long blonde hair crowding her face. But Venus said nothing. Instead, she cried.

The minutes turned into hours, which turned into days. She didn't leave her house. Reese had cleaned up the remains of her battered apartment, back from when Diego, Wilson and Tyrese had destroyed the door and her window. Reese made sure to put it back in the same condition it was before the whole thing took place.

Moira struggled often, with Reese at her side. Guilt ate at her in a way that made her feel small, vulnerable even. Her guilt was a vulture, swarming around the carcass of a warthog, flying down once in a while to give it a good peck or two before flying off again.

Reese was always there to comfort her, and while she was grateful, the only solace she wished for was that of Venus. To know how she was doing, how she was feeling. Yet Venus stayed in her room, door locked and isolated from the world. Moira had much preferred to be screamed at instead of being shut down into isolation from her closest friend in the town.

Then, there was Demetri. He'd visited twice, today being the second. The first time he went to see her it ended with him out on the small patio in the rain with nothing but the sound of shattering glass inside. Originally, she'd been laying on her couch, with the TV on. Yet she wasn't watching it. She just laid there, lacking any sign of human emotion or thought.

As Demetri had tried to console her, he'd only made it worse, and he knew that he couldn't offer any kind of resolve. She only knew her story, but she didn't know theirs.

As Demetri walked up to the apartments, a stray cat skittered across the crooked street leading to more buildings in the other direction. He kept his composure, but his insides were coiling. It was weird, for him at least, to feel nervous. But she had that effect on him; making him listen to his own every word for any kind of mistake, which he ironically had a habit of saying all the wrong things to her. He knew he could be better, but he wasn't allowed to be at the time due to the prophecy.

But this time, it was different. He would talk to her, and he would tell her the full truth.

As he knocked on the door, he hesitated, wanting to go in. He could, if he wanted, but he was walking on thin ice, so thin that even staring he, he wondered, if it would crack.

He heard footsteps, and felt her presence, yet she never opened the door. Demetri let out a low growl, glaring up at the harsh sun.

"Venus."

Nothing. But he knew shew as there.

"Let me in, I just want to talk."

His sensitive ears picked up a huff of air on the other side of the door.

"Please," He tried, his voice growing weaker.

The door handle jiggled before clicking and swinging open. There she was, her eyes beet red, hair disheveled and bags dragging down her eyes. He had to do a double-take. This wasn't Venus. Where was the fiery glow that seemed to follow her wherever she went? Those eyes that were brick walls? Never allowing anyone past them. But now, her eyes were as shattered as her window had been only days ago.