The Origin Series | Chapter 10: The Ballet Dancer (Part 5)

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°.*⊹              -`Hi there´-            ⊹*.°

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Carlie here!

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           (๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵)و

Back for chapter 10

of Origin Series fic!

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I hope you’ll like it!

I having

lots of fun with this

back in 2017. There

are 12 chapters in

total and I do want

to finish it one day!

(❁´◡`❁)

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Of Pain and Pieces

Sunlight filtered through the pink curtains and lit the pink room. It looked old and use. One could see the traces that time had left. The walls had been painted pink twenty years ago and as years ed the color faded. Plastic butterflies covered the walls along with small paintings in white frames for a few years before posters of popstars and boys bands came to replace it all. Alongside Hannah Montana were pictures of ballet dancers in costume, preferably the White Swan and the pink tutu of The Sleeping Beauty.

The room wasn’t big. There was enough space for a double bed, a desk, a shelf, a wardrobe and a dresser. Hannah Montana was gone, but the ballet dancers remained. The furniture were all light wood. Pink curtains barely covered the windows and matched the pink carpet.

In the white bed slept a young woman. Twenty years of age. That room had always been hers. She was the one who insisted on the double bed. What a pain it had been to put it in the room.

She was peaceful in her sleep. It was late. As if she refused to wake up, unconsciously refusing to face reality. She was fully dressed, she even had her shoes on.

When she woke up, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She had a headache and what seemed to be a hangover. She had had hangovers before. The first time was when she came back from the hospital, alone, and the second time was when she came back from her parents’ funeral, alone again.

She sighed and moaned. She rolled onto her left and buried her face in the pillows, trying to shield herself from the light. Then she felt it. She was still in her uncomfortable bra and her uncomfortable jeans. She didn’t coming up to her bedroom. That’s when she ed.

She never walked up the stairs. The last thing she ed was drinking that last glass of scotch and asking that final question while looking into the red eyes of one of her mates “So you’ve just been killing people, human and vampire, for three thousand years?” to which Caius merely replied “basically” as if there were absolutely no problem.

But there were problems. Many problems. First, she had three mates, which she was pretty sure was the reason of her headache and not the alcohol, second, they wanted her to go to Italy with them, never to return, third, they wanted to turn her into a blood thirsty vampire, fourth, it didn’t seem like they were going to take no for an answer and, finally, she couldn’t say no, it was an order from the universe itself.

But as she laid there in her bed, thinking about her messy life, she realized one thing; she didn’t want to say no. Yes, they were her mates, and yes, basically, the universe was rubbing her of her free will, but what would happen if she stayed? She had no one and nothing. Sure, she owned the house, but all it was doing was remind her of her past, of her parents, of a future she would never have. Sure, she was a law student, but that was always her father’s dream, not hers. Sure, her dream was dead and buried but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get another one. No, she didn’t think the universe was rubbing her of her free will anymore. It was giving her a chance, a second chance at a new life, a better life. And if she took that chance, she would never be alone again.

She sat up and lazily moved her legs out of bed. She groggily stared at the floor and as she got up, she noticed a red note on her nightstand. It was a dark red card and on it was written in black letters The New World. She turned the card and saw the address of the hotel. She slightly smiled. She was relieved they hadn’t abandoned her. She didn’t mind that they knew where she lived, but she minded that only they could find her.

She put the card back down on the pink nightstand. She let her clothes fall on the floor as she undressed herself. She went into the bathroom and distractedly showered.

She stood there, in the foggy room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had a blue towel wrapped around her wet body, her wet brown hair fell onto her chest as she looked into her green eyes.

She barely recognized herself. It was as if the last few months had never happened, and she was reliving her lost all over again. Her parents, her career, her entire life was gone. And now all she had was three remorseless serial killers.

After a few minutes, she finally moved. She let the towel fall on the floor and took the hair dryer. Once she was done with her hair, she walked back into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe.

Her father was a very successful lawyer and her mother was an equally, if not more, successful heart surgeon. When she opened her wardrobe, Winter would usually grin. She liked expensive clothes, and unnecessary expensive accessories. She took out a pair of dark blue jeans which prize she would never understand considering how basic it looked, but it was because of the prize that she bought it. She took out a sleeveless red top, grabbed a black purse and blue sneakers. She loved heels, but hated wearing them. As a ballet dancer she was used to sore feet, but she wanted to be comfortable considering she had no idea how long she was going be out.

She needed to clear her head. Everything she wanted to do seemed wrong and dangerous. What could be worse than walk in a hotel filled with vampires? Go to Italy to live with vampires? Yeah, that seemed even worse.

She put the red card in her jeans pocket and grabbed something to eat on her way out. Usually, in situations like this, she would go to the ballet studio and dance until she couldn’t feel her feet. But at this moment she just wanted to walk, and think.

She had no idea where she was going. She couldn’t figure out if she wished every step she took led her closer to them, or farer away from them. She started thinking about immortality and blood. Did she want to become a vampire? Did she want to have to feed off human blood to survive for the rest of eternity? To become a killer? To become like them? No, she didn’t. But it was more complicated than that, because what she wanted was to be with them, and she couldn’t be with them and stay human. It was a weird feeling, she wanted to run away and hide from them, and be with them at the same time.

She had no idea how long she had been walking, nor where she was, when she heard someone call her name. She frowned and stopped in the middle of the streets. She heard it again. Someone was right behind her. She jumped, startled, as she felt a hand on her right shoulder. She turned around, quickly, and met with a young girl.

She was small. She looked like she was about sixteen years old. She had blonde hair and green eyes. She looked terrified. She was shaking, her eyes kept moving from right to left, as if she were afraid someone might recognize her.

“Winter,” she breathed out with her shaky voice.

Winter was surprised and confused. She had never seen her before.

“Do I know you?”

Winter looked the stranger up and down. She was wearing a dirty shirt that was too big for her, the sleeves were so long she couldn’t see the girl’s hands. Her jeans were as dirty, if not more, as if she had been wearing them for days. Her blonde hair was a dirty mess as well. She looked like she was homeless, except even though her clothes were dirty, they didn’t look old, nor did her shoes. She just looked like she had been through a rough few days.

“No, no, no,” the girl repeated as she shook her head. “I... know you. I’ve heard of you,” she said with great difficulty. “They told me about you,” she whispered.

Winter frowned. “Who did?”

“The voices,” she whispered.

Winter’s face softened as she understood the girl wasn’t in her right mind.

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, who are you?”

“Who am I?” she repeated, like she didn’t understand the question, or didn’t know the answer. “I’m pain and peace’s,” she whispered.

“Pain and pieces?”

“The red eyes,” she said next as she locked her eyes in Winter’s. “We’re the same, you and I. They’re gonna turn us and we’re gonna burn,” she said quickly, too quickly, like she had been drinking way too much caffeine, or took too much cocaine.

Except now Winter knew she wasn’t crazy, or at least, not everything she said was. ‘The red eyes’ could only mean one thing, just as ‘they’re gonna turn us’ did.

“Do you know them?” Winter asked.

“No, no, no, no,” she shook her head. “You and I... we’re the same,” she whispered.

“How?”

“I’m pain and peace’s... You’re the Kings’.”

As Winter realized what she meant, she couldn’t help but wonder how she knew all of this, and if the voices were indeed real.

“Who told you that?”

“The voices... in my head... we need to run, they say we need to go or we’ll burn.”

The stranger started to hit herself in the head. Winter tried to stop her, but she was strong for a small girl.

“Stop hurting yourself!”

People walked past the two girls but none of them stopped to check on them. It was just a mere spectacle, an inconvenience that they wouldn’t let ruin their day.

“Who’s pain and peace?” Winter asked. “Are they your mates? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“They’re going to turn us, and we will burn,” she repeated.

“Calm down,” Winter tried to take the girl’s wrists but she wouldn’t stop hitting herself. She noticed the bruises on her forehead and wondered for how long she had been doing that. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t feel anything,” she breathed out, “but I feel everything. I can hear it all. It hurts, it hurts,” she started to cry.

As the girl’s legs failed her, her first instinct told her to call 911. She was obviously hurt and deranged. But she had a hunch that no doctor could help her. Obviously, whatever the voices were telling her was true.

She kneeled on the dirty streets and hugged the stranger who was crying on her shoulder. She kept repeating the same words over and over again.

“Make it stop.”