Crossover (HP/TVD/IPKKND) : Renascence (NOTE+Chapter 1 posted!) - Page 3

Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and liking my story! Your comments really motivated me so here I am with Chapter 1! Hope you all like it. Also, please have a look on a note posted above. 😊

CHAPTER ONE : AGE OF INNOCENCE

I gently picked up the rolled up ball of red, holy thread and smiled. Softly, I caressed the warm material, unwinding a small portion and twirling it around my thumb, reminiscing all the times I had sat down peacefully to do exactly this same thing. I quickly broke off the portion of the thread and set it down on the table in front of me.

For a moment, I just looked at it, a warm feeling bubbling up in my heart at the memories. Although the red color of the thread reminded me of one of the most horrific events I had witnessed at the age of eight, I couldn't help but be happy. For all it had led to.

Beside me on the old carpet, my phone beeped with a new message. I didn't even have to look to know who it was from. I guess that's what happens when you get so used to talking day in and day out to that one person whom you love above everything and everyone else. When that one person, despite all their faults and imperfections, ends up becoming your whole world.

A grin broke over my face as I read the message. I just saw a really large rock here. Can I spend tomorrow under it?

Trying to run away, are we now? I quickly typed and hit send.

I think it's understandable, in my case? I read a minute later.

No! Come home or I'll kill you. I replied.

A crying emoji came back to me. I rolled my eyes and got back to work. Taking the little metal ornament I had found in a shop earlier that week, I dipped one finger into the little bottle of glue kept on the table. Slowly, I applied the glue on a little piece of thick but smooth paper I had cut out according to the outline of the ornament. Carefully, I placed the centre of the thread over the glue and then placed the ornament on top of it. It had little mirrors already stuck on top of it. But they seemed too few. I got up from my place and walked to a my desk drawer in the corner of the room, rummaging around inside it patiently, recalling the day I'd met him for the first time.

He'd walked home with me after the attack that day. Or rather carried me. The terror I had felt as he'd said that horrible word had started a great trembling in my limbs. I had been sobbing, frantic to be safe in my bed where, I was certain, no vampire could harm me.

But, as it turned out, home was not enough. For as soon as I stepped inside, the man in black let go of my hand and all color drained from my face. Vaguely, I heard my aunt gasp at my blood-soaked t-shirt and my evident fear. And perhaps also at the man at her doorstep who had been, only a moment ago, clutching my hand so tightly, his other hand bathed in the blood of the vampire, the silent reminder of how close I had been to death and how dangerous this heart-ripper in front of me could be.

But logic had deserted the premises of my brain. All I knew was that he had protected me. And the terrible fear that was making me weak all over was still shooting through my body in sharp pangs. I dreaded to lose sight of my savior. Grotesque visuals of the vampire in my room, over my frozen body, sucking at my neck plagued me. Terror made my ears ring sharp. I could not bear to let him go. Which was why I tried to pull him in the house by the hand.

He wouldn't budge, a deep frown marring his otherwise extremely handsome features. Panic made me wild. I cried, shrieked, clawed at his hand. But there seemed to be an invisible barrier between us. A wall that I alone could cross. Which held him back from me. Held him back from entering my house with me.

Shocked at my hysterical behavior, my aunt begged him, "Come in, please!"

In the coming weeks, these three words, spoken hurriedly, in a moment of weakness and desperation would come back to haunt my aunt. Make her cry. And wish she was dead. The guilt would burn her throat as she cried bitter tears of regret.

But right now, all she felt was relief.

The man in black clothes took a small, careful step over the threshold. His hand grasped mine tightly once more. I held our entwined hands close to my small chest, my erratic pulse and raging breath regaining some semblance of normalcy.

At the back of the drawer, hidden among boxes of chocolates, was what I had been looking for. The small vial of bright red glitter shone at me in the sunlight from the window beside me. I hurried back to my worktable, a joyous spring in my step. Uncorking the bottle carefully, I applied a little glue to the blank spaces upon the ornament stuck on the thread and sprinkled a generous amount of the shining red glitter over the whole thing. As I waited for the glue to dry, I stared at the remaining glitter in the vial.

It hadn't taken too much time to explain to my aunt and uncle and their daughter what had happened to me. He did all the talking. I merely sat and sniffed beside him. And surprisingly, they didn't ask many questions. The man's drawling voice claimed that I was perfectly fine. That he had healed me. And they all nodded their heads quietly, their faces blank as they gazed at him through half-open eyes. I remember I had felt indignant at their lack of concern. But at least they hadn't objected to a strange man spending the night under their roof.

Which was what I forced him to do. Refusing to let of his hand, I compelled him to stay on the couch where I was sitting. Through the haze of terror, I realized how abnormal and out of character this was of me. But I needed to have him beside me. Only then could I remain safe.

All of us camped in the living room that night. My sister and I slept on the couches and my aunt and uncle on a thin mattress on the floor. As for the man in black, he knelt beside me on the floor, his hand still encased in my tiny ones, his eyes closed, his regular breathing calming me as I fell asleep.

I lightly picked up the thread and shirked off the extra glitter, blowing softly over the ornament. Gently, I ran my hand over the ornament. As soon as my fingers grazed the surface, it seemed to shine brighter. Almost glowing. The glitter seemed to turn into a pool of shimmering red light.

And then, with a content smile, I admired my modest handiwork. It wasn't much. But I had put my heart into it. All the gratitude, all the love I felt for the person who had not just saved my life eight years ago, but for standing by me every step of my tumultuous adolescent life.

A loud ring interrupted my happy reflections. I answered the phone quickly, "No escaping under any rocks tomorrow or ever! I'll find you if you try."

The chuckle at the other end made me smile in turn. "Not going anywhere, princess, I promise."

"Good," I said curtly and then giggled.

"Though I might mix a sleeping pill or two in your dinner tonight so we can skip the whole drama," he said, barely suppressed laughter clear in his voice.

"I always have day after," I teased.

He sighed in exasperation. "Just let it go, please?"

I smirked. "In your dreams, Damon."

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