The Difference Between You and Me - Chapter 25

Okay, first just a little note to Abbii and Taylor. I’m glad you like this story, but I just have to say that I don’t look down on any of the people who comment on my story’s opinion. I like each one, because they help me to write better, and I actually like the little conflict between the whole Zane/Vincent thing, because it’s thrilling for me when I realise that people are fighting over my story. However, when people state their opinions, I don’t expect it to be done rudely. I am the author, and I take time to write these chapters, therefore I don’t like to be treated like I am stupid. And when I said I was annoyed with a particular person on the previous chapter of ‘The Difference Between You and Me’, I was annoyed because of the way she phrased her opinion, where there was a lot of unnecessarily harsh things. Anyway, I hope I cleared things up for you.

And here is a note to The Unknown. First of all, Colie has only been in Zane’s Mansion for a week and a half, and last time I checked, people don’t ‘miraculously gain weight’ within about two weeks of the start of their pregnancy. I told you not to judge Colie too quickly on how she’s acting because there is a logical reason – well, it can only really be called logical in a world of supernaturals – for the way that’s she acting. And if you ‘hate stories like this’ then don’t read this story. I don’t get what’s so hard about it – you see a story you DON’T like, so you DON’T read anymore of it.
And now a note to ALL of my readers. =) Some of you seem to think that, just because Colie has been taken from Vincent, then that means that Vincent suddenly knows where Zane’s mansion is. That is not true. Vincent has never, ever known where Zane’s mansion was, and the only reason why Zane knew where Vincent’s mansion was is because he got Matthew to work as a spy there, remember? I can’t tell you anymore, and this is so frustrating for me, because I really, really want to give you a P.O.V of Vincent, but that would ruin the plot and you’d know further into the story then I’d want you to.

Which brings me to Lexy L. I have never, ever done this before, because I am a firm believer in keeping the story’s point of view on the same character throughout the story, but I am willing to make an exception, since I think it will be fun for me, and I think your so amazingly awesome that you deserve to be the reason for this one exception. =) I am going to do a really, really small Zane’s point of view at the beginning of the chapter.. So Lexy, the firsts little part of the chapter in Zane's P.O.V is for you, and the other part of the chapter is dedicated to…
AprilJazmine, Cheyenne Taylor (aka. Samantha Brooke) and Lize Raj-Pamin for being so, so faithful to this story and leaving amazing, heart-warming comments. Oh, and also for Ella Jade; I'm always happy about new fans! So, just thought I'd say welcome. =) Hope you like it guys. =)

Zane’s P.O.V

Yet again, I am amazed by my own self-control.

With one snap of the neck, with one twist of my hand, I could kill her. With one thrust of wood into her heart, I could watch the life drain out of her slowly and painfully. She is at my mercy and I could have her walking around on her knees if I wanted her to.

And yet…I am finding myself unable to do any of these things.

On usual terms, watching someone writhe in agony would amuse me, would be cause for that usual shudder of pleasure that ripples through my body as I watch them slowly…painfully…..bleed…to death. On usual terms, I would laugh at their weak pleas for me to spare their pathetic, petty lives. I would take pleasure in it.

But not Colie.

No, Colie was something completely…foreign to me. Just about everything I couldn’t figure out. And it made me more curious than it bothered me.

She did strange things to my stomach.

Whenever she smiled, that beautiful, angelic smile that curved her lips in a way that made me just want to ravish her, my insides lurched. Where previously I had killed disgusting traitors that didn’t deserve to be called vampires for touching me, I seemed to…anticipate the time when she would sub-consciously curl her fingers around my wrist, the time where she would draw circles on my arm unknowingly.

And yet I know these pathetic human feelings I seem to be feeling for her are unjustified.

She is everything weak, everything I hate.

She cries when she feeds off the vermin that is necessary for our kind to survive. Even though she probably hated Matthew as much as I was indifferent to him. Her eyes grew round with horror when I told her that I had killed him. As much as I can tell that she craves for the blood of the foolish creatures I got her, she refrains, pretends that that burning thirst for blood isn’t there.

She is…compassionate.

And even though I should hate it, I feel only tender things whenever she clings on to me when she’s scared. I feel like I’m soaring on air when she’s in my arms. And when she looks up at me and smiles, I can only look into her eyes, those amazing eyes where green sunlight peeks out of chocolate brown. When her hand is in mine, I can only be marvelled at how something so small and soft can bring me such…pleasure.

Even though I can break her, I feel things for her that….that I’ve never felt before. Even though she is everything I hate, I don’t hate her. Even though she is weak and I sneer at the thought of people like her, I don’t sneer at her.

She confuses me.

Colie’s P.O.V.

I lay on my bed, looking up at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts swirling inside the confusing mess otherwise known as my mind. I was in love with Zane, and I was pregnant with Vincent’s baby, and I was also in love with Vincent.

But that was the part that was bugging me.

I repeatedly told myself that I was in love with Vincent, and yet some small part of me, some incessantly annoying part of me, kept taunting that I wasn’t in love Vincent anymore, that I was just in-denial. And as much as I tried to banish this voice, it just would not stop.

I wanted to love Vincent, and I think I wanted to love him because it was the most remotely normal thing that was actually supposed to take its toll in my life. Normal was everything I craved for, and yet when it came to something that resembled something even half-way recognisable, my whole being seemed hell-bent on going exactly against that. With Zane, for God’s sake With Zane.

And yet I didn’t feel sorry.

He made me feel amazing, like I was beautiful. But he was Zane. He had never lied to me. But this was Zane. He was not what he appeared to be. But did I mention that he was Zane?

He wasn’t….he wasn’t what I expected. Whenever Vincent had told me about Zane, my connotation was a vicious, angry monster.

But Zane was none of those things.

He had said before that he was not a monster, and strangely, I found myself believing him. Zane was not a monster, but rather the opposite. He was a contradiction.

A loud, annoyed growl made me jump on my bed. I shifted, startled, and peered around anxiously. I then realised that the sound was coming from Zane’s room.

I padded across the hallway, and entered into his room since the door was wide open. There was Zane, standing over what looked to be a rumpled t-shirt that had obviously been thrown across the room, with a dangerous glare on his face. It was sort of comical.

‘Zane,’ I said, stepping towards him. ‘What’s wrong?’

He snarled down at the t-shirt, and then turned towards me, and in what seemed like less than a millisecond, he had shot out his arms and pulled me into his chest, his head burying deep into my neck as one of his hands creeped to my hair and started playing with unorganized tendrils. He started to purr, and my heart swelled. I’m in love with this guy.

‘What’s wrong?’ I repeated, my head automatically relaxing onto his shoulder as his fingers massaged my skull.

He huffed and said nothing.

I pursed my lips and pulled away from him, with some effort.

‘Zane,’ I hoped I sounded dangerous. ‘What’s wrong?’

He shot one last scowl at the t-shirt before saying from between gritted teeth. ‘I can’t get it clean.’

I frowned. What was he talking about? ‘What are you talking about?’

He harrumphed and glared scathingly at the wall. ‘My t-shirt is dirty.’

I was amused, and I pushed the hair away from my face. ‘So why don’t you clean it?’

He huffed again. ‘I can’t.’

I frowned. ‘Why?’

He just looked at me. ‘You really think I would know how to use those mindless machines that spin around and around?’

I giggled; I couldn’t help it. ‘I think you mean a washing machine.’

He scowled. ‘Yes, those.’

‘Then where have you been washing your stuff all your life?’

‘Well, usually I get Marcus to do it.’

‘Marcus?’ I mulled the name over. ‘Is he another member of your coven?’

Zane nodded. ‘Yeah, but since I sent them away….’

He gestured at the pile of clothes on the floor.

I tilted my head to the side, and thought for a moment. ‘Well, if you want, I could wash them for you.’

He looked surprised. ‘Really? Do you know how?’

I looked at him sceptically. ‘Zane, please. I’m a woman, of course I know how.’

He smirked. ‘Wow, Colie,’ he drawled. ‘And I thought I always had you down as a feminist.’

‘I am,’ I defended. ‘But that doesn’t mean that I deny the truth.’

His eyes pierced into mine with an intensity that I knew wasn’t accidental. My breath caught and I looked away. Our eyes were speaking languages that I knew I would never speak aloud. We weren’t speaking of washing anymore.

And then his arms were gripping me tighter, and I almost groaned aloud at how utterly right it felt to be there in his embrace.

‘Colie,’ his voice whispered in my ear. ‘Colie.’

I moaned aloud at the things his voice did to my body. ‘Yes?’

‘Colie,’ his voice had dropped to a murmur, and his hand had slid down to the small of my back, and was tracing circles on the t-shirt. ‘Colie.’

‘Yes?’ I wanted to kiss him so badly.

And then his lips were on my ears again, and I detected clear mischievousness. ‘I think we should go and wash my clothes now.’

Both the washing machine and the tumble-dryer were located in a small, white room situated deep underground. We made our way down many flights of stairs to get there, and by the time we has got to the bottom, my knees were feeling shaky.

Zane watched patiently, watchfully, as I measured the right amount of washing powder into the slot in the washing machine, turned the dial to the correct symbol – the water drop sign -, shoved his many t-shirts into the door, and slammed it shut. It immediately started spinning.

‘See?’ I turned to face Zane. ‘That didn’t look so hard now, did it?’

He rolled his eyes and pulled me into his again, but just as he did, a sharp pain pierced my side. Shock rippled through me at the unexpected pain, and I doubled over, and Zane’s voice in my ear was alarmed. ‘Colie?’

The pain in my side spread to the centre of my stomach, and I gasped, trying to cling on to something, anything, to keep me still. The pain was unbearable.

And that was when I started coughing up the blood.

It started with small chokes, little gasps that brought spatters of blood flying out of my throat and crashing down to the tiled floor, stark in contrast. Then I started coughing heavier, and chunks of blood came spurting out of my mouth. It was uncontrollable; I was panicking.

Meanwhile, Zane had hurriedly scooped into his arms, as I writhed against his chest. He started sprinting and picked up the speed, and in what seemed like less then a second, we were at the entrance to his room, and he was springing inside, flinging open the door to his en suite and rushing us inside. He carefully stood me on the ground, my face over the toilet, while his arms gripped around my waist, and my coughs became more violent. I must have choked out litres and litres of blood, and somewhere in the mix, something heavier, more solid crept out of throat, and plopped loudly into the water of the toilet. The coughing stopped slowly, my breathing ragged and shallow, and when I finally regained control of myself, I realised that my cheeks were wet. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring at pools and pools of blood. I wanted to be sick again. But something caught my attention. In the midst of the essence of my life, something small, white in contrast to the violent scarlet, was floating in my blood. It was curled in a foetal position, with smudges of lumps and bumps that hadn’t formed yet.

And then it hit me. Foetal – foetus.

My baby.

Read first: I swear there is a rational explanation for Colie’s miscarriage. So don’t judge and say too quickly ‘But you’re just trying to clear everything up for Zane!’ Because I’m not. Colie’s miscarriage is all part of the plot.