Take My Hand

I had been looking up at the ceiling above me for a long period of time now, trying to make out little patterns running along it. I hadn't moved from the spot on my pink satin sheets since I had collapsed on it, for there was no reason for me to. Earlier before, I explained to my mother that I didn't want to come downstairs because I was suffering from a migraine, which is obviously a lie. I just didn't want for her to start asking questions about why I was crying. Neither of my parents decided to check up on me to see if I was alright, thinking it was best for me to get some rest in peace. But I couldn't get any peace with all these thoughts about today running around my head. They would not leave my head; the events of today would just circle and circle.

My room was deadly silent, until there was a knock on my window. At first, I didn't really acknowledge it since I was so busy searching for shapes in my ceiling, but once I had finished zoning out I shot up from my bed. There was another knock, louder this time. I scurried across my bedroom, to see who was at my window. When I pulled back the curtains, it revealed the person I least expected to see. Brendon stood there upon the porch roof looking through the window. My heart stopped as soon as I saw his face. I wasn’t quite sure if he was here to shout at me more or for other unknown reasons. He sure didn’t look angry or irritated, but I can’t judge peoples emotions that well.

“Brendon,” I began. “What are you doing here?” I opened my window wide enough for Brendon to crawl through.

“Belle, I am so sorry,” Brendon apologized sincerely as he held my shoulders tight. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, but sometimes I just can’t control my anger.”

“No, you have a right to be angry at me. I deserved to be yelled at for telling them about you. But I didn’t mean to, I- I- it was just an accident.” I stammered.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. I understand, now. I don’t care what people have to say about me or about you. We’ll get through this somehow.” He placed his warm hand on my cheek gently. I placed my hand over his.

“It’s not going to be okay. The whole school knows you’re a vampire. What if you have to move away again, then I won’t be able to see you. I don’t want that to happen, Bren. I love you.” A tear rolled down my cheek at the thought of it.

“I promise I will not let that happen,” Brendon whispered as he wiped away the tears with his thumb. My sobbing soothed down eventually. Once it had completely faded, Brendon placed his lips on mine. My hands moved down to his waist, while one of his hands stayed on my face and the other on my hip. I felt his tongue run along the bottom of my lips, asking for entrance, so I opened my mouth and let him in. Our tongues battled as he pushed me back onto the bed. He lay on top of me continuing to kiss me and then he slowly began to move his hand up my top, resting it on my breast. I moaned slightly when Brendon kissed that certain spot on my neck. Not being able to control my teenage hormones, I reached for his belt and unfastened it.

“I want you now.” I gasped, looking up at him. A second later, my bedroom door opened. Both our expressions were identical, shocked. My mother and father stood at the entrance of my bedroom staring at me befuddled at their daughter with a boy who had his hand on her boob and his belt undone. Great first impression, Brendon.

“Get your filthy hands off my daughter!” My father roared as he tore Brendon away from me and pinned him to the wall.

“Father, get off of him!” I screamed as I tried to pull him away from Brendon. Eventually, with my mothers help, we managed to pull him off of Brendon.

“Get out of here,” Father threatened, “and don’t come back. Don’t you ever touch my daughter again! Don’t even think about my daughter again!”

Almost scared to death, Brendon exited my room out of the window.

“How could you, Belle? How dare you go behind our backs and deceive us like this,” Mother lectured. “After all the times I told you not to talk to that boy, you continued to do it. Well, Belle. This has gone on long enough and I’ve had it. I’ve had it with your behavior. I want you out of this house, first thing tomorrow.”

“What!? Mother, you can’t do that to me! Where would I go?”

“You should have thought about that before you created this mess. As for tonight, you are not to leave this bedroom.”

“You can’t-“

“Goodnight, Belle,” Mother said sternly before leaving my bedroom. My father followed her as he shook his head at me ashamed for what I had done. I heard the lock on my door click.

Poor, pathetic, simpletons. Did they really think that locking me in my bedroom could stop me from escaping?