Under the Giant Oak

I was right. I was so fucking right. It was a month into Linda's pregnancy, and I constantly felt like I needed to rip my hair out. Or hers, but she's pregnant. That's just down right cruel, but then again I've never really been a nice person.

It wasn't her fault. I know, but the puking and the crying and the puking again just are getting a little out of control. Humans complain about their pregnancies. Well, those fuckers can suck it up because vampires who are with child are so much worse. Imagine, if you will, having a vampire growing inside you. All that rage, all that excessive blood, all those hormones were constantly running through your body at an amount that wasn't normal. Yeah, that's what she is going through. It was like a human pregnancy tenfold. That doesn't sound very pleasant. And, that's because it isn't.

Oli was constantly doing something or other, and of course, he refused to have her go anywhere or do anything be herself. That was where I came in. Sometimes I even stayed three days in a row. It was exactly what I thought I would be doing, especially since Ronnie is fully healed and is now on the hunt for his attackers. For all I know, he could even have caught them already! I mean for fuck's sake, I hadn't seen him all week. When I finally came home, he wouldn't be there. When I left, he came back. We seemed to miss each other by minutes sometimes.

And, that is the story about how I ended up getting a cell phone. I didn't know how to work the damned thing; no matter how many times Linda explained it to me. Another thing to complain about, Ronnie just left the phone on the counter one morning when I came back and told me that if I didn't contact him every day, he would think I was kidnapped. He was getting a little protective to say the least. So, alas, I have tried to text. It is as horrid as people on those stupid human shows make it seem! The letters have numbers and the numbers have letters, and I don't know what either of them does! God, things are just not swinging my way recently.

I pulled out the fucking thing as I carelessly walked off of the bus, not bothering to look where I was stepping. It seemed like I knew this bus stop better than my house right now. Ronnie had sent me a message earlier saying he didn't know when or if he was getting home tonight. I hated being in that house by myself. Ugh, this child better be fucking perfect for the amount of work I'm having to do for it! And, I better be the god-parents! That's right. I want to be both the god-mother and the god-father. There isn't anyone else stepping up to try and take the titles from me. I don't even think Linda's best friend from wherever she lived has come to visit her. Look who took your place, bitch! Did I mention I am currently running about two hours of sleep? Because I am.

The key missed the door a couple of times, and when I finally entered the house, throwing whatever I was holding carelessly onto the floor. I was way too stressed to worry about what I was doing. All I wanted to do was shower and go to bed, hopefully to wake up to my mate in the morning. But, those mornings seemed to become less and less for the last couple of weeks. We never did anything when we saw each now. It was like we would look at each other and start fucking. Hell, the last time we kiss was maybe a week ago. Now, we just stayed curled up next to each other relaxing and trying to avoid going back out again.

It wasn't like I was blaming Linda for this whole mess. Ronnie was busy with his own shit to worry about. It just was getting frustrating. I did actually enjoy his company, and it seems like I can't sleep very well without him now. Yep, I am now sleep dependent. It was like he was a drug. He was constantly needed, but there was never enough to go around. I sometimes wondered if he and Billie Joe were best friends now with the amount of time they were spending with each other.

I tried to stop thinking as the hot water pelted the skin of my back, relaxing the muscles enough to the point where I could feel again. The grim slipped off my body with the water that was going down the drain, never to return again. It didn't last long enough, but it seemed to last too long as well. The comforting feeling left quickly, and I realized that I actually was taking a shower for a purpose, getting clean, not standing under water. Although, it was a close second.

A towel wrapped around my waist until it was replaced wih clothing that I would never wear out in public. The towel was forgotten somewhere that I'm sure I will have to pick up later.

I walked back into the living room, heading for the kitchen. My goal was to get a bottle of blood, head back upstairs, and sleep, but something caught my eye. There was someone sitting on the couch. There blond hair stood out compared to the rest of the room with its darker colors. I tried to remember who I knew with blond hair, but it wasn't coming to me.

The scenarios played in my head, each with a different ending. Most of them ended with my untimely death. They weren't very pleasant. My hands reached for something behind me that would maybe help me in a future fight. I could fight. People used to beat me up, but I got a few punches in.

"You can breathe. I know you are there." The person said. He stood up; his scary strong features hitting the light in a way that made him seem menacing. But then again, he was in my house without my knowledge. He was menacing.

"Who are you?" I asked. My hand grasped onto a metal candlestick holder, waiting for when he was in swinging range.

He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes at the seamlessly innocent gesture. "I'm someone, but we aren't here to talk about me. We're here to talk about you."

"Well, I would suspect that you would come into my house to talk about you." I said.

"True," he shrugged. "But, let's get onto more important things."

"Like what?" I asked, watching his movements behind the couch carefully. I would estimate that he would have to take about three steps towards me if he jumped over the couch, and about seven going around.

"You are a very important fertile." He said.

"I think you have the wrong fertile," I said. "But, there is a Ms. Marley down the street who owns a really popular bake shop. I think it’s a front for the mafia. You should go talk to her about that."

"I don't have the wrong fertile." He denied.

"Yeah," I argued. "You do."

He shook his head. "You are very close friends with Linda Sykes, mate of Oli Sykes. He currently has the most successful torture business in the world. Your mate is Ronnie Radke, the dom that everyone has their eyes on for future best dominator."

My eyes shifted to his arm when he brushed the hair from his eyes. A certain tattoo caught my gaze. It was black with numbers on it, 943. There was blood dripping from the tips of it. Shit! Shitty fucking shit shit! "You're one of the doms that attacked Ronnie." I stated.

"You could say that." He said.

"Of course I can say that," I snarled. "He was in a coma for days with stab wounds."

"We were only defending the defenseless." He snarled back.

"Like right now? Coming into another person's home when you know only a fertile will be home? That sounds more like cowardice to me." I scoffed.

He growled before lunging at me. I threw my shoulder forward before swinging my arm, successfully hitting him in the face with the make shift weapon I had. His head whipped to the side as he stepped two paces back. Whipping his hand out, he grabbed the candlestick. I punched him in the face before he managed to grab one of my wrists. My leg flew out, and I kneed him in the gut. He fell over but drug me with him because he was still conveniently connected to my wrist. Getting back up quickly, he hit me in the face with a force to make my vision go blurry. Another one to the right side made me black out.

When I woke up, I found myself in the kitchen with my arms tied behind my back. This day could not get any fucking worse.