Elizabeth and the Necklace.

"I. Am. Fine." Tori snapped, standing up.

Tristan stepped back, wary. "Tori, calm down. I'm just concerned."

She laughed, "Concerned? Ha! Your little leech girlfriend sent you here, didn't she?"

Tristan snarled and his eyes turned yellow. "Leech. Don't you dare call Elizabeth a leech! I came here because I was worried!" He slashed her hard across the face.

Tori kicked him in the chest, "Why shouldn't I? That's what she is. A leech. A bloodsucking little bitch." She punched him in the jaw, "A parasite."

Tristan, in a flash, pinned her to the ground as a wolf. He ripped across her chest, breaking the chain of the necklace. He snatched it up in his mouth.

Tori quickly jumped up, yanking the necklace from his mouth. Elizabeth ran in then, eyes blood red, fangs bared. Tori held the necklace up, whispering something in a strange language. Elizabeth started screaming, her eyes rolling back. The only word that could be made out was Tristan. A swirling purple mist crept out of her mouth and nose, and seeped into the necklace. Elizabeth went silent and dropped to the ground, her body still.

Tristan snarled and lunged at Tori, sinking his teeth in her neck. He swatted the necklace out of her hand.

Tori let out a muffled scream and laughed, "Good luck." She whispered in his ear before disappearing.

Elizabeth's point of view.

Tristan. Oh God., where was Tristan? I looked around, frantic to find his familiar face. But there was nothing, just darkness. I'm not even sure there was any darkness. It was just empty. It wasn't dark, it wasn't light. There wasno color, there was no anything. I'm not even sure I was there. All I knew is that Tristan wasn't there, which worried me. I couldn't even feel anything. I was completely numb, void of all senses.

Where was I? Was Tristan here? Was he looking for me? The necklace. That's it, that's the only thing that could do this to me. But what happened? Tori. That's it. That bitch. Oh, I warned them. This is the reason you listen to the 300 year old vampire. She knows what she's talking about, dammit.

But I couldn't focus on being angry. I had to get out of there. To Tristan. But I couldn't move. And I was so cold. Not that the cold bothers me. But it was a different kind of cold. I felt empty. Numb.

Wait. I heard something. Tristan. Tristan's voice. He told me to open my eyes. I tried, oh I tried. But I didn't feel like I had eyes to open. What was going on?

I could hear something else. A child's voice. A little girl... No. No, it couldn't be. It was Isabelle's voice. My Isabelle. She was crying. I hated the sound of Isabelle crying, it killed me to hear her crying. I wanted to comfort her, to hold her. Her crying got softer, like she was leaving. No! I couldn't lose her again. Not my poor Isabelle.

There were so many voices now. My mother, my sister, even my father. I hadn't heard my father's voice since I was little. Then Erik's voice. Then the sound of the gun shot. More voices then, one's I couldn't remember the faces to. I heard Josaphine's, that crazy girl. And Chris's too. Then the Comte's. That one struck a nerve.

But why? Why all the voices? To remind me of the one's I lost? To remind of the pain being immortal has brought me? Evangeline was doing this. Even though she was dead she couldn't leave me alone.

If I wanted to blame someone, it should be the Comte. Just put all the blame on the worthless bastard. He made me like this. Made me into a monster. That's what I truly was. A monster. I've killed so many people, done so many bad things. If I still could, I would go to Hell.

Maybe that's where I was? Or the endless black abyss Gabriel was talking about. I was probably dead and this was my punishment. I deserved every last bit of it.

And yet somehow... I regret nothing.


And you all get NO back story! Mwhahahaha! Unless you ask for it, then I'll give you some.    

Luna and Milo's Story

Luna Lawrence, now fourteen, slipped on a black tank top and looked at herself in the mirror. It had been a year since she tried to kill herself, and her life had gone downhill from then. She hadn't told her parents, not wanting to give them another reason to want to ship her off to the nut house. So to hide her scars, she started drawing on her wrists. And then her hands. And then anything else within reach. Drawing became her release, her ticket to getting out of the world. And drawing on her wrists and hands became a weird quirk instead of a way to hide her dark secret.

Since the incident, Luna never left her house, only for school. And then she demanded that her parents drive her, not daring to walk alone. She had begun to sink back into herself. She was always quiet, she never laughed, she never cried. She was emotionless. On the few occasions in which she did show emotion, it was when she was alone.

"Luna!" She heard her mom, Cindy Lawrence, call from down the stairs. Luna sighed and grabbed her bags, walking down the stairs.

Her and her parents were going to the Lawrence family reunion. Joy. A week with her dad's, John Lawrence, obnoxiously beautiful family. They all had golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. Her mom's side, however, all had brown hair and brown eyes. Where Luna's black hair and eyes came from, she didn't know.

After an argument between Cindy and John. The Lawrence family was in their minivan and on their way to New Orleans, where the reunion was taking place. Luna spent the ride listening to her iPod and drawing with Sharpie on her hands, making intricate swirls and strange patterns.  Her parents argued in the front seat, causing Luna to turn up the volume, sinking into her own little world.

Hours upon hours later, they arrived at the Sheridan Hotel. They were all greeted by hoards of obnoxious blond relatives. Going on about stuff Luna really didn't care about. As soon as possible, Luna slipped away from the masses and sat in the corner of the room, drawing on her wrists.

After a while, a girl about her age skipped up to her, "Hi!" She chirped, "My name's Sara!"

Luna looked up, "I'm Luna."

Sara sat next to her, "What'chya doin? Drawing on your hands? That's weird."

Luna shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah... It's a habit I have..."

Another girl, a bit older, came up behind Sara, "Ew. Don't talk to her, Sara."

Sara turned and looked at her, "Why?"

Luna looked down at her hands. The girl sneered, "She's so weird. And look at her hair! She's so emo!"

Sara looked Luna up and down and scoffed, "You are so right, Lucy! I can't believe I even, like, talked to
her at all." Lucy and Sara both laughed.

Luna looked like she wanted to run away. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. "Hello Sara. Lucy." Came a male voice behind her.

Lucy went pale, "H-hey, Milo."

Luna turned and looked up. Behind her was an older boy that looked nearly exactly like her. He had the same messy black hair and dark brown eyes that looked black. His clothes were spattered in paint. Milo smirked, "Why don't you two lovely whores go make yourselves vomit in the bathroom?"

Sara opened her mouth to say something but Lucy stopped her. They both turned and walked away, holding their heads low.

Milo laughed and sat next to Luna, "Hey there. I'm Milo."

Luna looked down at her hands, "I'm Luna."

He nodded, "Lovely name." He took one of her hands and examined the drawings, "These are really cool. You've got a talent, Kid."

She pulled her hand away, "Er, thanks." She glanced at him, "How old are you?"

He smiled, "Nineteen. You?"

Luna looked down, "Fourteen." She mumbled.

Milo laughed, "Did ya hear we have to  share rooms with people? Ha, Lucy has to share a room with Fred."

Luna raised an eyebrow, "Fred?"

He pointed to a younger boy with glasses and braces. He was reading a comic book and slurpping something from a cup.

She made a face, "Girls and guys have to share rooms?"

Milo shrugged, "Some do." He took her hand and pulled her up, "C'mon. Let's go see what poor souls we're stuck with."

He led her over to a table and picked up a sheet with his name. Luna did the same and read next to where it said, 'Roomate' Her eyes went wide, "M-Miles Lawrence." She looked at Milo, "Is that you?"

Milo laughed, "Looks like we're sharing a room, Little Luna."

Luna made a face, "Little Luna?"

He grinned and put an arm around her shoulders, "That's your new nickname." He chuckled, "Unless you prefer Loony?"

She froze and a lump formed in her throat, "No. Little Luna is fine."

Milo took the arm down and looked at her, "Did I say something wrong? I don't have to call you anything..."

Luna shook her head, "N-no it's fine."

He nodded, "Right then." He grinned and picked up both of their bags, "To our room, milady?"

She managed a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was getting somewhere. She nodded and they went into the elevator and into their room.

The rest of the week past without a hint of depression. Luna finally started to show emotion. She smiled, she laughed at Milo's jokes. He had finally pulled ehr out of her shell.

On the last night, after they both had gone to bed, it finally hit. Luna couldn't go at least a week without having the nightmares. Terribly realistic nightmares of what had happened to her. The three boys. The ally. Their laughs echoing. Everything was so realistic, as if it were happening all over again. Then Luna started screaming, and kicking and fighting. She had to get away from them. She couldn't let it happen again.
She felt someone shaking her. Two strong, soft hands on her shoulders. Not their hands. His hands.

"Luna!" Milo screamed, waking her up, "Luna! Wake up!"

Luna jolted awake, tears streaming down her face, and sobbing uncontrollably. Milo pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, "Luna. Shhh. It's okay. What was that?"

She cried into his chest, not able to say anything. She was shaking with the terror that still rushed through her veins. Milo rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair, "You can tell me anything, Little Luna."

Luna looked up at him through bleary eyes, "It was a n-nightmare. T-that's all."

Milo looked at her sternly, "Luna. Just a nightmare couldn't do this to you. Tear you apart like this. You've been hiding something from me all week. And I want t know. I want to help you."

She shook her head, "You can't help me..."

He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him, "Luna. I'm here for you. Tell me."

Luna took a shaky breath and told him. Everything. She left out no detail. From the hurtful words of her peers to the three boys in the ally and what they did to her. As she told the part about after she got home, she walked into the bathroom, washing off her wrists. The ink rinsed away, leaving only the two angry pink scars on her wrists.

Luna finished her story and looked up at Milo, her eyes still watery. Milo had a mix of emotions on his face.
Sadness, sympathy, compassion, anger, hatred. He finally pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair, "Luna..." Was all he said.

She started to cry again, "Y-you're the first person I've told about this."

Milo looked down at her, "What? You haven't told anyone?"

Luna shook her head sadly.

"What about your parents?" He asked.

She laughed weakly, "I can't tell them anything. Not that they'd listen."

He sighed, "I'm going to give you my number, okay? If you ever feel like you have to hurt yourself again, I want you to call me. You know what? Screw it, call me anyway." He grinned and hugged her.

Luna smiled, "Thank you, Milo... For everything. Being nice to me, making me laugh, everything."

Milo kissed the top of her head, "You're like a little sister to me. I love ya, Little Luna."

She smiled and closed her eyes, "I love you too, Miles."

He ruffled her hair, "It's Milo! Call me Milo!"

They both laughed.