From Her Vein to the Floor

"I'm not strong enough to stay away.
Can't run from you;
I just run back to you.
Like a moth, I'm drawn into your flame.
Say my name, but it's not the same.
You look in my eyes,
I'm stripped of my pride,
And my soul surrenders,
And you bring my heart to its knees."
- Apocalyptica (featuring Brent Smith)

Torryn hated Mondays. They were always so tiring, so boring, so very nearly unbearable. And that was just the normal ones. With the added hurt and guilt of the weekend's activities, she could barely force herself out of bed. There was only one thing that coaxed her from beneath her warm sheets...

"Do you have more?" her mother asked, barging into her room without even bothering to knock. She scanned the small space quickly, noticing the broken objects scattered about, but she didn't comment on the rubble. She only repeated, "Torryn, do you have more?"

"More what?" she muttered, turning her head to remove her face from where it had been buried in her pillow. She was hoping she could just smother herself that way, but that wasn't quite working out.

"Money," the older woman answered, looking at Torryn as if she were stupid.

"Not at the moment," she said, sighing tiredly.

"Well, get more," her mother snapped, her tone immediately shifting from calm to enraged. "Otherwise, I'm throwing your ass out of here and making you replace all of the shit you've broken!" she shouted with a sweeping gesture across the room.

"Oh, fuck off, you stupid cunt," Torryn snarled, sitting up. She was not in the mood for this. "You don't have the balls to throw me out, especially now that you know I'm making money."

For a moment, her mother looked too stunned to speak, but that ended far too quickly. "Don't you ever take that tone with me, you little slut. And don't think you're going to get away with saying these things to me. I want you out. Tonight!"

Torryn was on her feet in a heartbeat and in her mother's once-beautiful face in another. She was clad in a pair of old gray shorts and a red T-shirt she'd had since elementary school, her body appearing tiny and harmless, but something in her face must have been enough to frighten the older woman. She was drawing back before Torryn had even reached for her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Torryn hissed, her fingers closing around her mother's neck. She slammed the woman against the pale blue wall across the hall from her open doorway, her feet dangling inches above the ground. The look of fear on her face was priceless, but Torryn was too pissed off to enjoy it. "If I want to leave, I will. If I want to give you money, I will. But until I offer, I'd like you to leave me the hell alone." This last sentence she spoke slowly, accenting each threatening little syllable. Then, carelessly, she let the woman fall to the floor and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

"Freak!" her mother managed in a raspy shout, just before Torryn entered the bathroom. "You're fucking crazy!"

Torryn paused in the doorway, turning to her mother with an eerie smile that she hoped would chill the overbearing woman to the bone. "Maybe. But that just gives you more of a reason to mind your own damn business." And with that, she walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. She was feeling good enough for school now.

-

A bit of pleasant excitement occurred when Torryn saw Skylar's car still sitting in the driveway, just waiting for her to take it, and she decided to answer its call; but other than nearly killing herself and several pedestrians, the day was just a pain. Her first few classes dragged on and on, so boring that they only fueled her brooding thoughts, and she found herself actually looking forward to lunch. She would have to face Skylar – at least, she hoped he would be ready to speak to her – but that was much better than just waiting to see what would happen. It would finally bring this whole mess to an end.

Sitting at their table in the courtyard, the one she'd sat at with Skylar only days before, she waited. She watched several groups pass, several girls and boys, but none of them were her friends or her Skylar. It was ten minutes before anyone she was familiar with approached her, and even then, it wasn't anyone she was wanting to see.

"I'm still sorry," a masculine voice said softly from behind her, laden with an uncharacteristic seriousness. She moved to turn, but Antony sat down beside her, stopping her mid-movement. "For everything that happened this weekend." She gazed into his bright eyes, searching for a reason to doubt him, to reject his words once more, but she could find none. There was only sincerity.

"I know you are," she sighed, her eyes falling to the worn wood of the picnic table before her. "I can't keep blaming you for all of this."

"Well, part of it was-" he began, but she quickly interrupted, her eyes darting to his face.

"I didn't say you weren't to blame altogether," she told him, skewering him with the sudden anger in her expression. "I just said that you weren't to be blamed for all of it." She forced the ire to leave her eyes, her shoulders sagging as she let out another slow sigh. "I know I didn't exactly scream, 'Rape!' when things began. You should have stopped, sure, but I also should have stopped you."

He nodded slowly, a thoughtfulness to his expression that surprised Torryn. She sometimes forgot that he was capable of something other than that teasing smirk. "Yeah," he said. "You're right. We're both to blame."

"Mhm." She glanced around the courtyard once more, frowning when she still saw no pleasantly familiar faces. "Do you know where Skylar is? I thought he might come looking for me out here, but he hasn't shown, and neither have my other friends."

Antony shrugged. "I haven't seen him since he kicked my ass the other night," he answered, a wry smile springing to life on his pale lips. "I think I want to keep it that way, too."

"You should go, then," Torryn said, still scanning the courtyard hopelessly. "He's probably not too eager to see you, either, and I can't imagine what he'd think if he saw us together."

Antony stood, nodding in agreement with her words. "All right. I'll see you later, then." She shot him an odd look, a mixture of anger and confusion playing across her fair-skinned face, and he frowned. "Or maybe not." He left without another word.

She watched him go with yet another sigh, wondering why she couldn't force herself to be angrier at him. He'd done so much to her, so much to Skylar. How could she just get over that?

"I see you've forgiven him," a voice suddenly said from behind her, causing her to whip around in her seat. Skylar now sat across from her, gazing calmly at Antony's slowly disappearing back. "I can't say I blame you." His eyes wandered to hers, and she found them much too cold for comfort.

"Am I right to let it go, then?" she asked softly, her brow furrowed. "Is it okay to just...forgive him?"

He shrugged, his eyes dropping to where his hands rested upon the table. "I won't forgive him," he whispered, beginning to fidget, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't. He did what any man would do in that situation." His eyes drifted to hers once more, the look in them softening greatly. "You're beautiful, after all."

Torryn blushed, unable to hold his gaze. She looked toward his lightly fidgeting hands, wanting desperately to take hold of them but fearing his reaction. "I don't think it was my beauty that he was after." He shrugged once more but didn't speak, so she went on. "I'm sorry, Skylar," she whispered, bringing her eyes back to his. "I'm so, so sorry. For everything. For never mentioning what I was, for never telling you about Antony, for...for doing what I did with him, for everything." She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she swallowed hard to force the lump from her throat. "I know sorry is never enough, but...it's all I have." Tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks, but when she moved to wipe them away, he took her hand.

"Don't," he told her softly, his thumb gently caressing her palm. "I think...I think I've been waiting to see you cry." His face was blurred through her tears, but she could make out a look of puzzlement, of fascination, and it confused her.

"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking. She swallowed again, trying to make herself sound less like a whimpering spaz. "Why would you want to see me cry?"

"To see if you could," he answered so quickly it startled her. She opened her mouth to speak, to object somehow, but his free hand brushed her tear-stained cheek, his thumb over her parted lips. "You've been too strong. Throughout our entire relationship, throughout our friendship before that...you've always been too strong. I was beginning to wonder if you were capable of producing tears." He sounded so much wiser now than he had before, so much less goofy and foolish...

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked between little sobs, his words only making her cry harder. "Is this funny to you?" She was sitting in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by her peers, and he wanted her to cry...

"No," he said hurriedly, both of his hands on her face now, gently cupping her cheeks. "No, no. That's not what I mean at all." His voice and eyes were so gentle now...How had they been so cold before?

"I miss you," she choked, leaning into his touch. "It's only been a day, and I miss you. I miss knowing you're there, and that you care about me, and...and that you miss me, too." She felt pathetic admitting all of this, but she couldn't stop herself. She'd spent a year of her life with this boy, and that was only including their actual "relationship," not the years of friendship before. She owed this to him. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me now, not now. I need you."

At that, he smiled, truly smiled, and she swore he was mocking her. "I've never seen you cry before. I've never seen you beg. I've never seen you care so much about...well...anything." She moved to pull back from his warm hands, to escape his teasing touch and his taunting gaze, but he caught her with his next words. "I love you, Torryn. I love you more than you could ever know, and even more now that I know you're capable of real emotion."

"You're making fun of me," she whispered, her shoulders jerking with another sob.

"No, honey," he murmured, pulling her face closer to his over the table. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm trying to tell you that it's okay to cry. You don't have to be strong all the time. You don't have to be the man in the relationship."

"Does that mean...Are we still in a relationship?" she asked softly, hope entering her tear-filled eyes.

"Yes," he whispered, and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. "If you still want to be with me, yes."

"No more secrets," she said, smiling through her tears. "Things might work out better for us that way."

He laughed lightly, kissing her again. "Yes," he told her. "No more secrets."

Just then, the bell rang, and Skylar's hands fell from Torryn's face. She smiled sheepishly and began wiping at her tears. "You should get to class."

"What about you?" he asked as he watched her.

"I'll go as soon as I don't look like I've been crying," she said with a soft laugh. "I'm sure no one will notice if I'm late."

He stared at her for a moment longer, then got to his feet with a nod. "All right. Meet me in the parking lot after school?"

"Of course."

Again, he could only watch her for a silent moment. "I love you," he finally told her, as quietly as he could with noisy students rushing all about him.

"I love you, too," she responded with a sweet giggle, still at war with her tears.

"I'll see you later," he said, taking one small step away from the table. Nearly everyone was gone now.

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "Later." Finally, he left, and she was alone.

So, naturally, it startled her when a voice from behind her said loudly, "That's her. That's who the girls and teachers have described." She spun in her seat, legs whipping out from beneath the picnic table, and almost instantly locked eyes with a tall, dark-skinned man in his early thirties, sporting dark brown eyes, dark black hair, and a weird little goatee to match. Another man stood at his side, gray-haired and much older. She recognized this man immediately – the principal.

"Would you be so kind as to come with us?" the older man asked in a stern, intimidating voice after looking her over for a moment, matching her with whatever description he'd been given. "There's something we need to discuss."

I'm screwed.

-

"Do you know why we've brought you here?" the gray-haired man asked once the three of them were sitting in his office, the door safely closed behind them. The principal sat at his cluttered little desk, the black teacher she didn't recognize standing a few feet to his left. Torryn sat across from them, picking nervously at a small hole in the ugly red upholstery of her chair. The room smelled vaguely of wet dog and stale cinnamon, and that really wasn't helping her to calm down.

"Because I beat up a few girls in the lunchroom a few days ago?" she asked in a small voice, just barely managing to force herself to make eye contact with the principal. She could hold his gaze for only a moment, however, then her eyes dropped to the little gold nameplate on his desk that read, "Principal George M. Phillips."

I'm going to academic hell, she thought, gulping audibly. My straight A's can't save me now.

"So you admit it was you?" the other man, the unfamiliar teacher, asked with a bit more excitement to his voice than she deemed necessary. He took a small step forward, leaning just an inch closer to her with a look in his eye that she couldn't decipher.

"Yes," she said, her eyes returning to the principal's face. "It was me."

With a joyful clap of his hands, the stranger let out a loud bark of laughter that she could only describe as "ecstatic." "It is you, then! You're that new fighter everyone's been talking about!" She went wide-eyed, her entire body tensing as her mind began to race in confusion.

"Of course she is," the principal said in that overly strict tone of his, shooting the black man a slight glare of annoyance. "We knew she would be."

"Excuse me," she squeaked, unable to force her voice into anything more impressive than a terrified mumble, "but what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with us," the teacher – or whatever he was – told her, laughter to his tone. "You know exactly what we're talking about." Suddenly, he was in front of her, his face inches from her and his hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair to either side of her. She went rigid, a trapped animal in the small cage of his arms. "You've recently started fighting in the human underground, and the big bad boss has started spreading rumors of your ascension to the real fights."

"How do you know all of this?" she asked, her voice still nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

"Because, honey..." Here, he grinned, showing off a pair of strikingly white fangs. "I'm a living vampire. I've been working in the Arena with Caesar Warren for more than a decade now."

"And Principal Phillips is a..." She sniffed the air, that less-than-pleasant scent of wet dog rushing into her nostrils once more. "Werewolf?"

"Correct," she heard the principal say, though she couldn't see him because the man in front of her had yet to move. He seemed to enjoy having her trapped like this.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice slightly stronger now as she looked directly into the black man's dark eyes.

"My name is Samuel," he told her with a broad grin, unnecessarily flashing his sharp teeth once again, "Samuel Abrams. And you are...?"

"Torryn," she told him in a hiss, offering him a mean little smile of her own, "Torryn Everett. Now, would you mind taking a step back?"

He chuckled, lips closing in a smirk that hid the fangs he was obviously so very proud of. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

Her breath left her in an annoyed sigh, but that was all the answer he got. In a matter of seconds, she brought her knee into his groin and her foot into his chest, sending him sprawling onto the principal's desk. Papers flew and something fell to the floor with a crash, but the gray-haired man behind the desk didn't move. Hell, he actually appeared to be smiling.

Samuel recovered quickly, regaining his balance with a few more loud laughs. "Now I see why Caesar and his boy have such a fondness for you. You're quick, you're tough, and you're feisty!"

She rolled her eyes, though she was glad he said nothing of her previous shyness and fear. He didn't really need to know that she was much more afraid of humans with power over her academic career than of powerful, blood-sucking vampires... "Yeah, yeah. I'm a sassy little bitch." She leaned coolly against one arm of her chair, her elbow resting on it as she propped her head up on her hand. "Now, is there something else you wanted from me, or did you just want to know who I am?"

"There are plenty of things I want from you," Samuel told her with an arch of his eyebrows and a lick of his lips. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but luckily, the principal saved her from having to violently turn him down.

"There's nothing more we want for now," the man said with the ghost of a smile still on his pale lips, his voice much more relaxed than it had been in the beginning. "You're free to leave." With a nod, she got to her feet, grabbed her backpack from where it rested beside the chair, and started quickly toward the door. He stopped her just as she gripped the handle, however, saying softly, "Just keep your fights in the ring from now on. I'm only going to let you slide this once. Besides..." Here, his smile returned in full force, a dreamy look to his eye. "I plan to place a few bets on you in the future. You need to save your energy for the Arena."

A shiver ran the length of her spine, but she said nothing in response to this. She just shifted her bag on her shoulder and darted out of the office, silently hoping that she would never have to deal with those two creepy characters again. Of course, she also hoped that she would never have to deal with Antony's father again, and she knew that that dream wasn't going to come true...

I'm screwed. So very screwed...