Teaser Tuesday

So, I'm really liking where Shadow is going and I'm so glad things decided to turn out. I feel like skipping and squeeing! Okay, but I won't do it.

Her tears was lost in her first cup of beer. After the fifth or sixth (she couldn't remember) cup, her thoughts, her heart, her feelings were buried alive and she couldn't feel a thing. Some guy with a neon green Mohawk was her bartender for the night. Whenever he saw her cup was empty, he'd quietly take it and get her a refill. Honestly, she didn't know that gentlemen like that existed these days.
She was sitting on some couch in some room with some people. Her eyes were droopy and she felt like she was a little teapot, forever tipping over and over and over. People were talking around her, their voices though loud in her ears, distant and foreign. She was trapped in her own little world and the only way she could stay in it, is if she kept drinking. No wonder why people get drunk. Bringing her Styrofoam cup to her lips, she leaned her head back, expecting to take a large gulp of bitter liquid, but all she could taste was air.
"Hey..." she murmured, holding out her hand. A shadow fell over her, but it was blurry, and pixelated. She saw a flash of green, and immediately recognized the guy.
"More," she spat.
"Victoria."
Even through her drunkenness, she was familiar with that sound. The one she had heard years ago before she had silenced it forever. Her fingers started shaking, her nails digging into the cup. It felt like something was lodged in her throat for when she gulped, she couldn't breathe. She slowly looked up into eyes that were as cold as a wintry night. They were eyes that were once distant and empty, eyes she thought she'd never see again. A wry smile pulled up his lips, as he plopped down beside her.
"Don't you recognize me?"
Her mouth tasted like ashes,"Yes, yes, of course I do." I'm drunk, so drunk.
He shook his head, those familiar black curls falling around his shoulders, and reached over to lay his hand over hers. It was warm, unlike his skin when he had...died. He was supposed to be dead, not here touching her. And yet, the feel of his skin against hers felt like a million fluttering birds in her chest.
"It feels so good to see you after all this time," he said, softly.
"How can you say that?" she snapped,"I killed you."
"You sent me to He...a better place," he winced, his face becoming the image of pain. A grunt resonated in the pit of his throat and then he was smiling again. There was so many things she wanted to ask but there was only one thing she had to say.
"I'm sorry."
His smile wavered,"For what?"
"I k..." The words were lost in the tears that started streaming down her cheeks.
"Vicky, I am not mad at you. I just wanted to see you tonight," his hand gravitated towards her cheek. He started wiping away the tears, his skin soft and comforting, as she inhaled the sweet scent he emitted. She could remember the way she had kissed him, the way his hands rested on her thighs. Everything about his touch reminded her about that night."So, are you an Angel or something?"
She didn't know for sure, but she thought she heard him scoff, and for him, that sounded odd. But when she opened her eyes, he was still smiling.
"Let's go for a walk?" His hand curled around hers, as he stood up, but she didn't budge.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" There was a glint in his eyes, and then he sighed. "Victoria, you won't hurt me, if that's what you're worried about. Now come. Walk with me." His voice was so soft that in her drunken haze, it was irresistible. She stumbled when she stood up, and his arm immediately wrapped around her waist, steadying her as they moved through the crowd. She couldn't hear the music or anything else around her. It was as if someone had pushed the mute button, leaving her to wallow in her thoughts. And her mind wasn't empty. She was submerged into a quiet stupor, with only Tommy and the thudding of her heart to keep her company.
Outside, the air was cold, not chilly cold, but it felt as if it were absent of happiness and warmth. It was somber even. They walked along the sides of the house, until they were met by a picket fence. He stood in front her, a wistful look on his face.
"I've missed you so much," he whispered.
"I've missed you, too." His hands rested on her hips, and he pulled her closer, his touch a perfect medium of firm and gentle, light and dark, for as he held her she felt the sun and it's perilous blue sky, but she always felt darkness, thick like the purplish-black night. She didn't move away, though. There wasn't an inkling of fear or regret, as his hands explored her face, her lips, her calves. He brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes, and let his own cloudy orbs sweep slowly over her. They rested on her chest.
"You are so beautiful," he moaned. She could feel her cheeks flushing. Even in death, they were perverts. Something cold moved against her chest, and then she remembered, the necklace. Tommy was pulling it out of her dress, his fingers tracing the designs with his thumb and index finger. His eyes were closed, and as she stared at him, she saw something different about him. His skin looked old and pale, like bones eroded by time. A black shadow surrounded him, and as he breathed out, she thought, she thought she could see teeth, yellow rotten pointed teeth, like fangs but shorter and sharper. She gasped, and then he looked at her, his lips twisting up into a smirk, his eyes were no longer the cool gray she was accustomed to. They were harsh and burned a fiery red.

His eyes were just like the one's she saw in her attic.