STAR CROSSED LOVES: The Havenmoor Chronicles Volume One

by Twilight, Algelica

  “You’re not crazy, Mia. You never have been. It is me, it is.” He whispered, taking a tentative step forward.

  “You’re dead!” I screamed, covering my ears with my hands and turning on my heel, walking faster than before.

  A hand stopped me and I froze. He had never touched me before. I assumed because he was in my mind that he couldn’t physically touch. But he was touching me and his hand was cold. That was weird. Surely if I was hallucinating, my mind would make it perfect, exactly like he would have been. I looked at him; really looked at him for the first time since he had appeared. Surely there shouldn’t be blood on his forehead; surely his clothes shouldn’t be ripped and dirty, and covered in blood. Surely...

  “Petyr?” I whispered, looking down at his hand on my shoulder. “You’re dead.” I said hopelessly, still trying to cling to the hopes that this was all in my head. But then again... did I really want to be crazy?

  “Yes.” He said softly. “I am. But... well, after the accident, I found myself here. It was more than a month before I could do more than watch you. I don’t know why.” He shrugged. “It was like I wasn’t strong enough, you know, like when you first wake up and you can’t just jump out of bed and run a marathon without stretching or something. That’s why the first time I could only speak; didn’t you notice how it started with the speaking, then you could see me, now I can touch you?” he asked.

  “I just thought I was getting crazier.” I said, somewhat dryly.

  He chuckled and the sound made my heart skip. “Oh, Mia,” He breathed and let go of my shoulder.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here. I mean... ghosts are just supposed to be stories. Just meant to scare children and be dressed up as, on Halloween. They’re not supposed to be real.” I said quietly, rubbing my forehead. I was going to have such a headache by the time I got home. My head was already pounding.

  “I think... I think I need help. I don’t know, but you’re the only one that can help me.” He sighed. “I tried to speak to my parents but it wouldn’t work. It only worked with you so I think you need to help me.” He bit his lip and it made my stomach ache. It was such a typical habit that I could almost imagine that he was still alive. And I wanted him to be alive so badly.

  “How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do? Help you move on?” What if I didn’t want to help?

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know.” His smile was completely gone and he shrugged, hands in his pockets.

  “Perfect.” I sighed and looked behind me, down the corridor. “I was going to go to the nurse’s office. They’re still being pretty... lenient.” I tried to smile but couldn’t. How was I supposed to smile when my dead boyfriend wanted me to help him, maybe to move on and leave me forever?

  My mom wasn’t home when I got there so I left her a message saying that I’d got sent home and was going to go to bed. I sat down on the edge of the sofa, phone in my hands as I stared blankly at the screen on TV.

  “Mia?” Petyr asked as he sat gingerly beside me, hand wandering over the arm of the sofa. He’d explained how weird it was for him to be able to touch things after months of accidentally walking through people and furniture.

  “Hmm?” I looked up, still startled to see him next to me.

  “Who... who was arrested? Was anybody?” His words were calm but I could tell how it hurt him to ask.

  I nodded and reached for his hand. “Another boy, except from Trackton High; he was only sixteen. He got his license only a few days before. As soon as the car...hit you, he got out. Tried to help, do you remember?”

  “I don’t really remember anything after it hit me,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

  “He owned up as soon as the police came, kept saying how sorry he was, how it was all his fault. He was sobbing by the time the police took him away.” My heart twisted at the memory. I had nightmares about it constantly. The boy hadn’t been driving more than twenty miles an hour, and even I had to admit that it wasn’t the kids’ fault. Petyr hadn’t been looking. We’d been laughing about something stupid and he’d been watching me as he walked across the road. It wasn’t a busy street but he’d been unlucky.

  If the car had merely hit him then he would still be alive; the car wasn’t going fast. But because of where Petyr had been and where he had been standing, he’d gone right over the top of the car, landing behind it. I’d been frozen, the smile on my face still. I’d rushed over but I think I knew already that it was too late. He was too still, too pale and the blood surrounding his head was... there was just too much. But that didn’t stop me from trying. I ordered the boy to call an ambulance as I tried anything and everything to get him to wake up. He didn’t.

  “Sorry, did you say something?” I asked, pushing back the memories and the feel of blood on my hands.

  “I said that I thought I might know why I was still here.” He said quietly as I tried to hide the horror on my face. It was selfish, so selfish but I’d been hoping it would take longer. I didn’t want him to go.

  “Oh. What’d you think?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

  “Well you said that the boy was saying how it was his entire fault? Well how about if he’s feeling so guilty, that’s why I can’t leave? What if he’s the one that has to get past this?” he smiled, seemingly happy that he had managed to work out a possible solution.

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s worth a try.” I nodded, staring down at my hands.

  “What’s wrong?” his tone was puzzled and he scooted closer, cold arm wrapping around my shoulder.

  “It’s so selfish.” I whispered. “But I don’t want you to leave. I know that you need to but... Well, I never got to say goodbye and I wanted to do it right this time.”

  “It’s not selfish.” His lips found my temple and he kissed it soothingly, “I understand. And we’ll leave it a few days, huh? We’ll say goodbye properly.”

  And that’s what we did. The next few days, Petyr never left my side. I think my mom was worried that I was on some sort of drugs because of how drastically my mood had changed.

  We spent the whole day walking around town, around school, remembering and saying goodbye. We went to the cinema where we had our first date, the park where he knew I liked to feed the ducks, and I even held his hand as we stood outside his house. We visited his house, and he cried as he said goodbye to his family. We spent the whole night talking and laughing and crying, preparing ourselves for our goodbye.

  When Sunday came, I knew it was time. Jeremy Harper was under house arrest until the trial but luckily only he was in when I knocked on the door. He recognized me immediately and began babbling about how sorry he was; he was near damn hysterical. He let me in and I declined his offers of food or a drink, deciding to cut to the chase.

  “Jeremy, listen to me. “ I sighed, nearly clamping a hand over his mouth to get him to stop talking.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Yes! Yes, I’ll do anything!”

  “I need you to forgive yourself. “ I held up my hand as he started to protest. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened. I know how you feel; I beat myself up about it every day. How I could have pulled him out of the way, could have told him to look, anything. At the end of the day... he was the one who didn’t look. He was the one who walked out in front of you. And you need to believe it. You do.” I rubbed my eyes and stood. “That’s all you can do for me. All you can do for him.” I walked swiftly to the door, not wanting to stay. Before I left, I saw the boys’ face, confused, as he watched me go but his eyes were shining with hope.

  I met Petyr outside. He reached for my hand and turned me to face him. “You did it,” he breathed, his hand cupping my cheek.

  I had done it; he was going to go. Tears were already streaming down my face and he ran his fingers over my lips.

  “You have to be strong for me, Mia. You have to.” He leaned forward so our foreheads were touching.

  “I don’t think I can.”
I whispered, closing my eyes. “I love you.” I sniffled and he wrapped his arms around me, tucking me against his chest.

  “I know sweetheart, I know. I love you too.” He whispered and pulled my chin up. He closed his eyes and kissed me gently. It was sweet and soft; I could taste tears and I resigned myself to the fact that this was the last time I would ever see him. It was bittersweet. I got to say goodbye, which was more than anyone else got, but it made it harder for me to let him go.

  As if he could read my mind, he shook his head. “You’ll see me again. Just remember.” He put my hand over his heart. “I love you.” He took a few steps back, his body shimmering with light.

  “I love you.” I whispered, barely audibly. And then he was gone.

  BLOOD AND BREAD

  A Vampire Romance Short Story

  Star Crossed Loves Book Three

  by Angelica Twilight

  all rights reserved copyright 2012 by Polaris Young Adult Productions

  Head down. Eyes on the floor. Ignore them. Ignore everything. Get to class.

  The same five instructions ran around my head on a loop as I trudged through the halls, hair dutifully covering my face from view. I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the girl until it was too late. I stumbled back several feet, wincing lightly. Contrary to the way all the movies and shows on television handled situations like this, my books didn’t fly from my arms dramatically and nor (unfortunately) did an incredibly handsome boy pick them up for me.

  No. Instead, I got a mouthful of blonde hair, a pain in my shoulder as the girl shoved past me and multiple cuss words. So, today’s off to a good start. I hurried to my first period with a flush across my cheeks and an ache in my arm. And I was late. Just to top off my brilliant morning, I was going to get reprimanded in front of children who needed no further ammunition to laugh at me.

  “Sorry, Mr. Andrews.” I muttered meekly as I tried to drown out the sound of barely stifled giggles and whispered words.

  “I shan’t expect it to happen again, Miss Taylor. To your seat.” He flashed me a small smile as he nodded to my desk. He returned his attention to the board and I gratefully slumped down in my seat, cheeks burning as I unpacked my bag.

  The rest of the lesson passed rather uneventfully, thank goodness, and I finished my work in record time. Mr. Andrews came to check on everyone and smiled as he passed me and I knew I was forgiven for being late. I’m not being bigheaded or a teacher’s pet, (well, not too much) but I’m really one of the only kids who care about my work.

  When the bell rang, I packed away quickly and headed off to the library for my free period. It was nice to sink down in one of the comfy chairs and immerse myself in a book. There is something so reliable about books, about words. You can always imagine, dream, and hope, when you’re reading. Imagine that life can be better; that somewhere out there, life is so much more than where you are. Fully aware that my mood was plummeting, I settled down and began to read.

  I’d only really started when I got a sense that someone was watching me. I tried to focus on the page but the words squirmed and I looked up, expecting a horde of freshmen or a boy laughing to his girlfriend. So what I did see surprised me. A pair of brilliant blue eyes met my gaze and held it; it was so intense that I couldn’t pull away. I didn’t want to, to be honest.

  I am a girl and those eyes were attached to a very beautiful face. The boy looked older than me, sixteen, seventeen maybe. His hair was jet black and cut short, curling slightly under his ears, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. He smiled, lips turning up at the edges as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

  He finally broke the gaze and I swallowed, jerking my head down to my book. After a minute or so, I chanced a peek up. He was gone. I tried to swallow my disappointment. Not that is was surprising. Who was I? I was plain, boring, and nerdy. And he was… the complete and utter opposite. Nope. Not surprising.

  My mood seemed to worsen throughout the day and when the last bell rang, I couldn’t hurry out of school fast enough. I was a couple of minutes away from my house when I had the terrible feeling that someone was following me. I picked up my pace while chancing a glance behind me, my heart hammering. A flash of black caught my eye and I knew. I just knew who it was. Coming to a stop, I leaned against a street-lamp, swallowing my fear.

  I could see Ethan Miller on the other side of the road. He was a strange one, but nice. Over the last few weeks, Ethan and his girlfriend Torri had been alternately somber and giggly, the way I guess all of us teens lucky enough to have a boyfriend or girlfriend act, like everything is just significant and important. Ethan lived on my street and I waved at him with a smile, hoping he would hurry up.

  He was all alone. His parents had died and he’d had a lawyer make him…I think the word is emancipated, or is that only for when somebody was a slave or a prisoner and was freed? The point was that he got to live just like an adult even though he wasn’t. Thankfully, he did hurry up. He did, thankfully. He walked into the house that his parents’ life insurance or something like that had bought and I was alone again on the street. Well, not alone.

  Just as I had expected, when I was alone, he appeared; the boy from the library. He leaned against the wall at the corner of the street. The same thoughts from earlier struck me. How handsome he was, how there seemed to be an unrelenting piece of hair that kept falling in his face; his smile. But now I noticed the other things. His clothes were dirty, ripped in some places. And it didn’t look like the kind of ripped that was supposed to be cool.

  But his eyes; he looked sad. Hell, he was trying to cover it up, his smile proved that, but I had been alone long enough to notice sadness when I saw it. And for that reason, I began to walk over to him instead of turning on my heel and running away as fast as I could.

  The boy didn’t move from his spot but he raised an eyebrow, seemingly not expecting me to approach him. Standing in front of him, I cursed inwardly. He was at least 5’11 and I was no more than 5’3. He appraised me and I blushed slightly under his scrutiny. At last he spoke, holding out his hand.

  “I’m Julian Thierry. It’s nice to meet you…?”

  “C…Cassi. Taylor. Cassi Taylor.” I stuttered, shaking his hand. That struck me as a bit odd. Only older people shook hands. I shook off the thought and smiled, “I was going home but if you wanted, you could come…” I trailed off, biting my lip. Oh god, had I really asked that? Had I really just invited a boy I had just met, home? It seemed like he had followed me home, for goodness sake. He could have been a stalker and I…

  “Sure, that sounds nice.” Julian’s melodic voice drifted through my internal ramblings. I blushed deeply and looked down, my dark hair falling across my face. My head jerked up in surprise as a cool hand tucked some strands of hair behind my ear. Julian left his hand on my cheek for a few seconds longer than necessary and I offered a tentative smile.

  “You’re so shy, Cassi.” He said softly as he dropped his hand. I said nothing, just shrugged as I turned around, still blushing.

  “J… just down here.” I began to walk briskly, fiddling with the sleeve on my jacket. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t invite people home. And I certainly didn’t invite boys home. Never mind stalker-ish, insanely handsome boys with ragged clothes, short black hair that begged to have my hands running through it, and eyes that made me want to jump right in and swim forever.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I gestured into the hallway and with a soft chuckle, he walked in. Kicking off my shoes, I nibbled my lower lip nervously, “D’you want anything? A drink? Food?” I peeked up.

  “No, thank you.” He smiled widely, following suit and taking of his shoes, placing them neatly next to mine. He walked into the kitchen behind me as I poured a glass of chocolate milk. I loved the stuff. Sipping slowly, I rested my back against the counter top. “So… Are you new to school?” I asked, intrigued.

  His face became guarded and he nodded slowly. “I joined today
in fact. I’m a sophomore.”

  “Yeah? I am too. We might have some classes together.” I smiled and put my glass down. He may not want any food but I sure as hell did. I asked again whether he wanted anything and he declined politely. I pulled out some of that fancy bread (you know, the kind that your parents buy at the grocery store in loaves and pretend they got from some artisan bakery) and a knife, cutting into the loaf. “I love this bread, you know...”

  And so it began. I talked on and on about nothing in particular but it was comfortable and Julian seemed to be listening. His eyes were sparkling and he asked questions, hmm’ed and ahh’ed in all the right places. By the time I had finished eating, I was talking about my favorite music and how my mom was always yelling at me for playing it too loud. Julian chuckled and shook his head. ”Really? You don’t strike me a loud music type of girl.”

  I picked up the tea towel and threw it at him. “Hey! We just met, remember. You don’t know me.” I grinned to show I was joking as I put my plate in the sink and began to wash up. “So what about you? I seem to be talking about myself an awful lot. Do you have any family? What’s your favorite color? Just give me something, anything.” I looked over at him. He seemed to be a little lost in his thoughts, “Julian?” I asked and he jerked his head up.

  “Yes? Yeah, sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “No. No family; and red. Or blue. I’m rather partial to blue,” he smiled at me crookedly and I flushed, turning back to the washing up.

  “Ow!” I hissed, ripping my arm from the water and grabbing a towel. I pressed it to my hand, grimacing. Julian had frozen as soon as the knife had slipped from my grasp, sliding across my palm. I guess he didn’t like blood. I peeled the towel away, examining the cut. It didn’t seem too bad. The bleeding was already slowing down, if not stopping. It wouldn’t need stitches, thank God.