[A/N] Sorry it took a while. I got sick and then had my flight back and then had two appointments yesterday and didn't have internet until this morning. Haa... Let's go!
My legs took off and I went charging into the night. The previously breezeless city streets were now filled with a turbulent draught that wrapped around me and refused to let go. My arms and legs chilled quickly while my skin heated up, my neck burning like I could already feel hands around it.
The burst of speed I found was like nothing I had ever experienced before, blood charging through my body like it was competing with my muscle and my bones for first place.
I should have thrown myself into a wall five seconds into a sprint like that but every sidestep and turn I saw myself carrying out like I was some kind of experienced at parkour or dancing. I saw the fuzzy black lines out of the corner of my eyes and dodged the obstacles whether they were there or not and continued running even as I heard the feet hitting the ground behind me, charging after me like the hounds on my heel.
I'd never run like that before. When I ran I was afraid of the people following me, so conscious of them I could practically feel their breath on my neck, afraid of the wind as it chilled my throat and hurt, afraid of the floor, waiting for myself to trip and smack the ground, lose a couple teeth and even break my skull if I was unlucky.
Not anymore. Now I only felt my own heart pump, my throat ache, my thighs going numb, mucus running down from my icy cold nose to my lips.
My lungs already burned as I burst through the city streets, there were more and more people around but they remained hot on my tail. No matter how fast I ran I could hear them catching up, one pair of feat by far the fastest, terrifyingly close at times.
None of us spoke, but I felt like shouting for them to piss off if I wasn't convinced I'd have to slow down just to get the words out.
No one seemed to get I was being chased, or maybe they didn't care. If I stopped and screamed for help they'd help right?
I couldn't figure it out anymore.
When I tried to look into their faces as I passed, for some kind of possible sympathy, something warm, I couldn't see their eyes. Either I was running too fast or their features were melting away just like they had with my mother and my brother.
I couldn't keep running, my legs were getting too numb. So I tried, after passing a group of three girls laughing, drunk, walking together under the lamplight, to last second sprint to the right down into an alleyway.
The alleyway itself was wide enough for a small car to fit through, but piles of junk and fire escape stairs on either side made for quite an obstacle course to get through, and when I heard the yells and the cursing and then the footsteps following me into the dark alleyway I nearly cursed myself.
Even worse as I finally properly looked ahead of me I realised there was nowhere to run, up in the distance the other end of cut off with a large fence with huge metal slats.
I couldn't climb that...
I felt entirely breathless all of a sudden, and my skin felt icy cold.
Just out of the corner of my eye I saw a gap near it, and taking the greatest leap of faith turned to knock over a pile of trash bags sitting on some old discarded furniture, a table, mattress and upside down sofa chair. I didn't turn to look but I heard it scatter and the yells behind me.
"You've got nowhere to go! Get the fuck back here!" Followed by the quietest. "The hell, where's he gone?" That didn't seem to be directed at me, and; "Slow down man, we want to talk!"
"I'm gonna actually rip your fucking balls off if you take another step!"
They slowed down because they could and my heart pumped loudly ahead of me as I continued to sprint, then a split second later leapt into the smallest gap I saw on my way in, just barely noticeable in the pitch black darkness.
The houses probably had a legal requirement not to be touching and this was the best they could do, barely a foot space between them, definitely no room to properly run, either side of me flanked with red brick.
I squeezed through sideways in the even more disturbing darkness I looked up and saw the slightest strip of sky above me and thought how odd it was that the sky seemed so much brighter than the earth.
"Where the fuck..." I heard the exclamations on the other side of me, too close not to make my heart pound loudly in my chest.
My skin itched from the cold as I slowed down, and my face burned as I crawled sideways between the narrow path. Bits of trash here and there, my mind taking extra care not to hit the glass bottle on the floor while I edged my way through.
It was so dark it was actually hard to see where it ended, and a part of me panicked that it would have a dead end, anything would be enough to block off such a thin path.
But just a moment before the cold sweat started I felt the breeze and I felt my hands shake as I stumbled toward the exit but the moment I did and my eyes started to adjust to the houses outside in the residential area I was squeezing into, a figure stepped calmly in front of me.
He leaned an arm across my path and looked me dead in the eyes.
I felt a coldness sink into my bones as I stared up at those black eyes, the large loose jacket matching the broad shoulders underneath. His face was terrifyingly impassive, yet with eyes that felt like blades on my skin, perfect lips barely visible that didn't bother saying anything to me as a hand slowly reached out and grabbed my shirt, wet and cold with sweat, elegant fingers closing around the fabric.
I was speechless too, my mind recovering from the shock.
How... was all I had managed before a hand with a piece of fabric came up over my mouth and I took one startled breath in and saw my vision start to go hazy and the low light from the sky and flicker. I panicked and realised belatedly what was happening, shoved him hard but didn't manage to get his hand off of my shirt and just barely saw the corners of his lips turn up as he forced me back against the wall as I turned my head and followed my mouth with the fabric.
My last thought was that this must have been the same method they used to subdue their last victim, meaning I was breathing through the same fabric as the dead man had.
Anything after that was gone, replaced by darkness, I didn't even remember falling unconscious.
Nothing was left but that bare hint of a smile appearing as those cool icy black eyes observed me.
I saw myself being dragged across the ground in that body bag and thought, or imagined, I could smell the scent of blood still on his him in that memory, but that must have been a lie, because the more I thought about it the stronger that scent became.
I did dream while I was out.
I dreamt of a time a long time ago when my mother was still alive. Her face was a little fuzzy to me now, I could recall the expression though, somehow, and I remembered her feet and legs, the pencil skirt she wore and the short heels.
We went on a trip down to one of the local villages, driving mostly, but stopped to walk about. My mother held my hand as we found a stream and let me go to collect some of the fallen apples and pears on the ground, she liked foraging, I remembered.
The water that flowed through the stream was orange, but when I picket some up with my hands it looked clear. I drank it and made a face, because it tasted like rusted iron, like blood.
My eyes flickered into the present.
Where I had awoken slumped over in the one of the strangely barest rooms that seemed inhabited that I'd ever been in in my life.
"Who is he?" The one guy leaned down and peered me, crouching, the piercing through his eyebrow winked at me as the light hit it from an angle, two more black piercings in his lip, and one septum piercing. His highlighter green hair was messed up, pushed out of its former electrified style, now covering his ears.
I glared at him, but couldn't move, my hands bound behind me, my ankles to each other, the radiator thankfully off, but the metal was digging into my forearms as I pressed against it. I couldn't hide.
"He's shaking." He laughed, leaning in, looking up off to the side before looking back at me. "Are you afraid of him?" He grinned, putting his hand against my face.
I wanted to shove his hand away, I leaned back and his hand followed.
His hand touched my face as I kneeled, completely still. He laughed, "Don't be scared." He tilted his head, examining me briefly, then pressed his finger against my lips and pushed it inside and my heart nearly ripped itself out of my chest.
"Ahhhh!" He cried out, stumbling back. "Motherfucker!" He hissed, pulling the tip of his finger close to his chest and snapping his head round to look up at the other guy. "What the hell! " He got up and stepped away from me, kicking the air in front of me, a little dust from the linoleum floor coming up to my face. "That little bastard bit me!" He exclaimed to his friend as he walked into the room.
The dust tickled my throat but I didn't cough, my eyes glaring up at him from where I was kneeling.
And then another guy stepped into view. My eyes first settling on his trainers, travelling up dark purple sweatpants, a loose light purple T-shirt and well worn black leather jacket, creased and heavy looking. Dark brown hair, olive skin and dark, passionless eyes, observing me with the kind of coldness that accompanied an active murder scene.
Why not? After all, he'd just killed a person.
His soulless black eyes on me, freezing me in place, tense, I couldn't look away.
He stepped up and slowly crouched down in front of me and my heart raced about a mile a minute.
I looked up at him, determined not to show fear I didn't feel.
Infinitely black eyes observed me for a moment, and after a second he tilted his head slightly. "What did you see?"
I exhaled some of my nervous energy. I really wasn't afraid, but the closer he got the faster my heart beat, the more the hairs on my skin seemed to raise on end and my hands trembled. But I wasn't afraid, instead that feeling seemed to linger somewhere nearby just out of reach.
I looked up at him, trying not to be swallowed by those eyes. Otherwise calm, surprisingly perfect features of his face, felt like misleading signposts to the cruel person that had to be standing in front of me.
"I saw you kill someone." I answered honestly.
He stared at me a moment longer, while his friend blinked at me, then laughed sharply in surprise.
His skin was slightly dark, something like olive, and he had ear piercings from the lobe to the cartilage, nothing like the number his friend wore but just a series of black bead piercings. A silver necklace glinted on his skin, and his clothes looked well worn and stained, but the smell just barely reaching me was something deep and spicy. His hair was messy, black and curly, tied back into a half-hearted pony tail.
"Who killed someone?"
"You." I answered immediately.
He observed me for a second longer, I saw a smile that nearly shook my soul it was so stunningly attractive, and then in the space of a millisecond he raised his had and smacked my face.
The side of my face stung and burned, I blinked wide, even his friend seemed surprised.
"Arran let's just kill him..." He muttered, raising a brow at his friend.
He snorted slightly, annoyed, running his hand back through some of the shorter unbound curls. "Great idea Pike Aberdeen Miller."
"Hey!" He glared at him, but didn't even seem to dare to approach his own friend and only glared while his back was turned. When Arran looked back at him he paused and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly "Oh."
He turned back to me.
For a split second I glanced at his lips. If you weren't in my position you couldn't judge me for it. No one expects someone that just murdered someone and chased them down to look that good.
And since my visit to lake Ransom I hadn't felt the slightest bit of attraction to anyone, but his radiant, magnetic, terrifying sort of good looks seemed to reach through the screen that separated me and the rest of the world.
Amazing lips, amazing nose, amazing eyes. I wanted to take a photo, and then paint that photo. If I made it out of there alive I'd draw him justice.
But he caught the slight glance, I could see it in his eyes, the slight flicker, and then another tilt to his head.
He hummed. "Let's try that again, who killed someone?"
I took a deep breath. I didn't know why I was saying what I was saying or doing what I was doing. Maybe I was tired, maybe I was pushing my luck for the fun of it.
"Arran killed someone." I looked him dead in his eyes. "And Pike Aberdeen Miller helped him."
Pike's eyes grew wide and he stared at me in shock, his mouth opening and closing.
Arran seemed surprised too, but the expression didn't manifest as well. He snorted after a moment of silence, and it turned into a chuckle, and I liked the way it sounded before it stopped, he pulled back and 'smack!' he struck the other side of my face, hard enough that my head nearly bounced against the wall.
I swallowed, thinking for a second I'd cut the inside of my mouth on my teeth.
"I'm trying to help you out here." Arran continued calmly, looking down at me.
"By slapping me?" I looked up at him, trying to look as cold as him, but I hadn't practiced a look like that and I wondered if I looked as scared as I perpetually did all the time.
"You've got two options. Remember and die. Forget and live. I don't need to waste my time with this if one of those options is going to be quicker for me."
I heard the chill in his voice and felt the bumps raise on my skin. I should have been afraid so I didn't understand why I couldn't feel it inside.
I'd have to tell someone, after all I witnessed a murder, I couldn't just assume the guy was bad enough to deserve it and let bygones be bygones. Who knew how many people these guys had murdered and what for?
"I..." I had to just lie, but the words wouldn't pass my lips.
Instead I looked at him and couldn't look away. He barely moved as he watched me, my blood felt hot near him and I couldn't figure out why.
"I..." His eyes caressed my neck for a moment. Thinking about strangling me?
I shivered but made no move to move away, to spit or launch myself at him or to finish my sentence, instead I sat and watched him much the same as he watched me. The air in the room feeling unusually thick.
He smiled. "You're afraid."
"No I'm not." I replied honestly.
His hand caught my arm and his thumb raised the sleeve enough to show the goosebumps on my skin. "Terrified."
"Cold." I replied, confused.
He nodded wordlessly, but the contact burned, his fingers on me, my soul felt like it was roaring in my chest.
He tilted his head and watched me with those inky black eyes, as if deliberating my fate. I heard the feet of Death's skeletal form behind him, waiting to swing his scythe where he directed it at a single word. That feeling of imminent danger seemed to pulse through his fingers into my wrist.
[A/N] Big warm hugs to the Wattpad Creators Program and my amazing patrons for your support, giving me the ability to write these books even if I'm bad at sticking to a schedule...