Cry for the Moon

I sat at the window, curled up in a ball. My eyes rested on the horizon, watching as the dark grey clouds of a thunderstorm rolled in. The creek began to churn as rain started to pour, the water turning a murky white color as it crashed into the rocks, and the pines swayed in the surging winds. Even at this point, I knew it was the kind of storm I loved the most; it was a storm that would rage all night long and I would lie awake listening to it from the safety of my warm bed, or even better, on the couch in my father's study.

This kind of storm was one of the sweet symphonies of nature that I adored... but I found no comfort in the darkness surrounding me, growing deeper and far more shadowed as the tempest swept in. No smile came to my face as I watched the pines move.

In fact, watching them only served to deepen the betrayal I'd been dealt. Each needle or those evergreen trees seemed to dig into my flesh, burning and stinging. The dance they were doing no longer made me think of strength and steadiness, but an unreachable truth, an understanding I would never know. I didn't feel safe or calm like I knew I should have; I felt like a bird soaked by the rain, frozen in place as if some heavy burden weighed it down.

I'd been frozen in place; stunned in disbelief.

Weighted down by the 'why?' and by so many questions.

What had I said? What had I done that he hadn't liked, that had made him so angry... violent?

I didn't understand. The people who love you aren't supposed to hurt you...

The people who love you aren't supposed to hurt you.

I sat on the couch, head in my hands as I tried to ignore the throbbing ache I felt. Koda's tea had helped, but only a little. I hadn't expected it to do much at all; medicine could numb physical pain, could smother sickness, but what could it do against memories? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And so, I was completely stuck -trapped- as a constant prisoner to the fortress I'd made for myself. Not much had changed since that stormy night; for years, there was had always been something to hide from, something to run from. I could scarcely remember what it was like to be without the fear that plagued me, to be without the questions that constantly spun around in my mind.

It had all seemed so much easier when I was a child, though. The monsters back then were so tangible; I could put a face to the darkness. But things were different now. The demons were in my head, my soul. The guilt, regret... This time there was no where for me to hide.

There was no peace to be found, not even in my sleep. I knew that all too well. And Roy did too.

But it changed nothing.

Enough blood has been shed...

"Analii?" I jumped, eyes snapping in the direction of a soft, quiet voice; a voice that was so familiar...

My gaze fell on Thomas, and I let out a breath of a sigh, running a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was pounding as hard as my head was. Trying to ignore the fact that I had, for a second, thought his voice belonged to someone else... Today was going to be horrible.

"Are you alright?" I cringed as I heard the concern in his voice, winced seeing it written across his face.

"Fine," I replied shortly, my voice coming out sharp. Thomas started to growl in frustration, but quickly tried to hide it. Slowly, tentatively, he moved to sit next to me on the couch and I stiffened, hands clenching into fists. No doubt, he had talked to Roy already.

"Oh? You don't seem like you're feeling well," he answered, keeping his voice soft. My teeth gritted together at the sound of it; I knew exactly what he was doing. I could feel the agitation rolling in waves off of him, and he was playing the sympathy card to hide it. Did he think I was stupid? That I wouldn't notice? At least Roy made no effort to mask his intent. If they were going to be pissed off at about me not telling them what was wrong, then so be it.

I could take care of myself. I didn't need them to try and help me.

"And what else did Roy tell you, huh?" I hissed, shoving myself up from the couch, despite my body's protest. Drowning out the ache of my muscles and the horrid thumping in the back or my skull, my feet carried me toward the kitchen.

Crossing the threshold, I turned, sending a scathing glare to the dark haired man sitting at the counter, but nearly stopped in my tracks seeing Mark and Isaac next to him.

I had completely forgotten they had stayed with us the night before.

Yep, it was definitely going to be a shitty day.

Ignoring the three of them, I marched down the hallway towards the front door. I didn't get far, though, as Thomas' footsteps sounded behind me, his hand grabbing a tight hold on my arm. Spinning around, I crashed into his chest as he pulled me to him. I glared up into his blazing brown eyes, ready to yell at him, but his voice -still holding that infuriatingly soft lilt- cut me off.

"Analii. What's wrong?"

The same question as always rolled off his tongue, but there was an emphasis on each word. He was still quiet when he spoke, and it occurred to me then, that he didn't want the others to hear. But we were beyond that level of discretion, now. Even still, I took a deep breath, trying to cool my temper.

"Nothing, Thomas. I just need some air."

"Some air," he repeated flatly, and I didn't miss the question in those words. "And what is that supposed to do? Clear your head?"

"Yes," I growled out.

"Fine," he snapped. "Clear your head." He was silent, but didn't let me go. "So we can talk."

At that, he released me, and had he not taken a step back, I probably would have hit him. I narrowed my eyes at him and I was seeing red as I realized he was waiting for an answer from me. Not daring to open my mouth for fear of what kind of words would come out, I simply gave a short nod, grinding my teeth in anger as I grabbed my coat from its hook on the wall. Throwing the heavy leather over my shoulders, I watched as Thomas turned sharply on his heel, walking back to the kitchen. Glaring after him, I pulled on my boots, grabbed a pair of gloves, and wrenched open the door. As the brisk winter air hit my face, I paused for a moment, temporarily blinded by the pale sunlight that was glimmering off the snow. As I stepped outside, I held the door open just long enough to hear Thomas ask Mark to follow after me.

I responded by throwing the door shut, slamming it as hard as I could.

"Fuck him," I growled, kicking at a chunk of ice. "To hell with the both of them. I'm fine."

But was I really? No. And that was obvious, but there was nothing to be done. Thomas and Roy couldn't help me; I wouldn't, couldn't let them even try. No one could help. This was my torment to bear, and it was mine alone. My secret, my pain, guilt.

I would just have to suck it up and deal with... somehow.

Letting out a sigh, I tried to push those thoughts aside as I watched my breath swirl in a white cloud in front of me. Things had been so much simpler before mom died. How had my life taken such a turn? How did I fuck it up so badly?

Does it even really matter? Nope, not one bit. No one could change the past, and that was something I knew all too well. It was a bitter, horrible truth.

One that hurt like hell. It hurt like broken bones, like cracked ribs, and wounds that never quite healed right.

It was a reality that was always whispering in the back of my mind, and not even the sound of crunching snow beneath my feet could drown it out. I kept on walking, though.

I kept walking even when Mark's voice sounded behind me.

"Ana! Wait up!"

My gaze shifted to the black trees on the horizon and I focused on the small details of the ice that covered them, feigning ignorance to the sound of his voice. I could barely hear him, anyways, over the sound of his crashing footsteps coming fast and heavy as he ran to catch up with me. It wasn't until he was right next to me, huffing slightly from the burn of the frigid air, that I even acknowledged his presence. Was it too much to ask, to be left alone for a little while?

Yes. Being alone didn't suite me. It gave me time to think, and thinking led to... misery.

"What do you need, Mark," I asked quietly , trying to get the point across that I was not up for conversation.

"What was that about? You and Thomas never..." He trailed off, trying to find the words to describe Thomas's rare flare of temper. "You never argue."

"Everyone's got a limit. Maybe we reached ours-" My voice went silent as a hand wrapped around my upper arm, yanking me to a rough stop, and before I could stop myself, I flinched as Mark's voice -unusually harsh- sounded in my ear.

"But why?" In a sudden fit of reaction -of instinct- I backed away from him, jerking my arm free of his tight grip. Blue eyes set into a glare, I snarled at him, "don't ever do that again." My voice came out as a hiss, and for a second, I thought my warning was enough to get him to back down, but it wasn't.

"What's up with you and Thomas," he questioned again, his tone pleading. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Maybe because it's not your fucking business?" I snapped, not bothering to mask my anger as I rubbed at my arm. "And if you were smart, you'd do well to remember that."

Not bothering to wait for a reply, I turned my back to him, marching off in the direction I'd been walking. Hopefully, he'd take the hint that I was done talking to him.

He didn't.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be. Typical you." I stopped in my tracks, hearing that. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Though my feet slid slightly on the ice, I turned back to him, and if looks could kill, the look I had on my face was enough to freeze hell over.

"And just what, exactly, are you tryi-" Cold. numbing, shockingly cold black was what I was met with. My back collided with the hard, icy ground and I realized -albeit with a delayed reaction- that Mark had just thrown a snowball at me.

And had hit me right in the face.

Scrapping frost away from my eyes, I balled up snow in my fist and with no warning, launched it at him. "You jerk!" I barked out with a hiss, pushing myself up to a wonky stand. The snowball I'd thrown smacked into Mark's shoulder as he ducked his head out of the way and the sight of his grin was infuriating. His melodic laugh was even worse, and so, before he could regain his composure, I dashed at him. The next thing he knew, we were half buried in a bank of fluffy white snow that I'd tackled him into. I let out a laugh, despite the fact that the brutal pounding in my head had increased ten-fold, and rejoiced in my victory.

It was short lived though, as Mark -still grinning at me with that bright smile of his- grabbed hold of my cost, flipping us over. We rolled down the drift, hair collecting snow and our eyes burning as we did so, and I couldn't help but laugh, caught up in the surprising change in events. After what seemed like forever, but was only a few seconds, I landed face-up on a patch of melting ice, giggling like an idiot until I realized the water was soaking through my clothes. With a vigor I didn't know I was capable of, I tried to push myself up with stumbling hands, but smacked suddenly back onto the ground as Mark landed on top of me.

"Well, that was fun." All that registered was the sound of his laugh.

"Get off, damn it! You're too heavy Elias!"

My eyes widened; the laughter ceased in an instant, and the chill that slithered down my spine had nothing to do with the chilly temperature.

"Mark," I said quickly, trying to correct myself, hoping desperately that through all the noise, he hadn't heard the name that had fallen from the tip of my tongue. It was too late, though. I knew that in a split second; the damage had been done.

"Wha-who's El-"

"Can you get off of me, please? I'm freezing." Mark blinked at me for a second, hazel-brown eyes glittering with confusion, but then quickly noticed the position we were in.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I didn't reply as he moved away from me, getting slowly to his feet. Once he was up, he reached out a hand to help me. I kept my eyes downcast, geared towards my feet as I ignored his offer, climbing up the snow bank to get to my feet.

"You okay?"

"Yes," I replied shortly. "I'm soaked, though," I continued, intentionally disregarding the fact that his question had definitely meant something else. Mark was silent for a moment, simply looking at me, and I shifted from foot to foot in the awkward silence. Just when it looked as if Mark would say something, I cut him off. Our moment of fun was over with.

"Let's get back to the house."

"Yeah," Mark replied, though his voice came out as little more than a whisper. "Before we get sick."