I had fallen asleep with Blythe curled up next to me. I didn't want to think about the ballroom, the dancing, the exhaustion, and the eyes. I couldn't help but feel the scraping sensation of Richter and as I tossed and turned in my sleep, I was suddenly awakened by the sun tickling my face.
"It seems you were quite tired."
I knew that voice all too well. I flinched, straightening my spine. It seemed that our relationship was constantly push-and-pull, like gasoline and a lit match, always desperate to kiss despite the deadly ramifications. We fought, clashing against each other until I capitulated.
Yesterday, I thought of Percy's mother. I hadn't killed her, but I wondered if Carlisle thought the same.
