FATAL ROMANCE | Demetri Volturi Short Story |
❝ Till death do us apart. ❞ ❝ I'm immortal, hon. ❞
Milestones!
!1k - Thursday, December 20th, 2018!
!2k - Friday, March 29th, 2019!
!5k - Friday, October 18th, 2019!
!10k - Sunday, May 24th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~~~
"So let me get this straight, you're a vampire that originated around 1000 AD, my god, you're so damn old!" I laughed for the eighty-fourth time that day. "To be quite honest, you don't look like the murderous kind. You're too much of a teddy bear"
Demetri glared at me as I rambled off again, he didn't think it was funny. The cool air rushed through my hair while Demetri drove us to my house. He growled as I stroked his hand, embracing the cold texture to it. We pulled up to my house to see my mother's tear streaked face.
Before I shut the door I smirked a little. "I knew this whole time, you know." I gave him a small wave as he looked at me horrified.
I kissed Demetri's cheek, mumbled a 'goodbye' and ran into my mother's waiting arms. I watched as his red Porsche disappear down the vacant road and took a right turn at the light. I stayed in my mother's arms, listening to her cry.
"I should have let you stay home" she wailed, but I just hugged her tighter.
"I'm okay mom. Don't worry about me. I've got Demetri, and you."
I snuggled into her until a sudden sting was brought to my cheek.
💗💗💗
"How could you?!" My father shouted. He slapped me again.
"I didn't mean to!" I cried. I had tried so hard to impress him, to make him care for us. But the bottle slipped out of my hand. I looked down to my bloody feet, the pieces of broken clear glass and the vodka sewn over the floor.
"Then why is my drink on the floor?!" He yelled, scaring the seven-year-old me. He had abused me before, verbally, never physically. This was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me, and it was mentally scarring.
"Its slipped, Daddy! I'm so sorry! I'll get you another one!" I had stammered and tried to retreat for another one. But what he did next was unforgiving and the worst part was he made me do it over and over again. He made me walk on top of the glass. I can still remember the unbearable pain that I felt whilst taking my punishment. If it wasn't for my mother walking in from work, I would have needed more then stitches.
If only I knew this would be the start of what would come for the next eleven years. I was only seven years old.
