[A/N] Better late than never!
All my family and friends have their birthdays in clusters. Tomorrow I'll be off again from morning till night. I'll do my best to finish all my writings regardless.
Onwards onwards!
"What will it take to get you to let me go?" I asked, my voice was calm, like my head, steady and unbothered, but from a distance I felt a tremor moving through my soul from my closeness with the strangely icy figure with his dark eyes and perfect lips.
From this close I could see how worn the clothes were, there was blood on his shirt and pants and probably on his leather jacket too, tiny black specks that almost looked like dirt.
He tilted his head slightly, the lack of change in his expression gave him a slightly psychopathic quality, along with the way those eyes seemed to look down on me.
Between us there seemed to be a tenuous, thin string of interest, barely connecting us. But nothing more, nothing that would save me if he thought I was going to get in the way of whatever he was up to.
When I looked the guy in the eyes all I could think was 'this guy could kill me', and maybe it was because I'd already seen him kill, or because that was simply the atmosphere he gave off, the crackle of danger like electricity pulsing in the room, leaving my hair standing on end, my heart beating consciously slow.
"So you do want me to let you go?"
I raised a brow. "Of course."
"I thought you liked me hitting you. Or maybe you wanted to die."
I didn't reply.
He licked his bottom lip briefly, then glanced back at his friend, Pike said nothing.
He cracked his neck on the left shoulder, then the right, and got up. "I'll let you go if you promise to be quiet about what you've seen."
"I-"
His eyes were bright and cold as he looked down at me next, locking eyes with me. "You watched me murder a man, stab him to death, wrap him in plastic. He'll be set on fire, and when the fire is out we'll take those remains and melt them down till there's nothing left. No one who ever knew him will ever see him again, his friends will wonder where he went, his employer, his family. They'll cry about it, maybe if you tell the police in time they'll get some peace..." He hummed, his voice just as cold as before.
I looked up at him like I was talking to a snowman, hard like ice.
I remembered making one as a kid. Rolling the snow together on a particularly busy winter in the park. Just me. I didn't have clothes my hands were red and burnt by the end of it. I managed a small thing, two globes of snow. When it became warm the next day it started to melt, I thought it would be gone by the next.
The next day I visited the park it was snowing again and just as I was approaching a kid, smaller than me, was lifting his boot to smash it and somehow it ended with him on the floor sobbing for a brief second or two before his mother got him. The head had separated from the body but it was still intact, the globes had turned to ice.
"I don't care."
He stared at me for a moment later, the snorted and turned away like he was going to leave.
I pulled forwards in a hurry. "I'll keep my mouth shut on one condition."
He looked back, his expression looked permanently disinterested and cold but I could see he was at least slightly intrigued.
"Let me slap you."
There was silence between us. In fact, I don't think I'd ever been in an apartment building that quiet before, no noise from above, below, or side to side. Only off in the distance, outside the window, there was the slight rustling of wind.
Pike blinked slowly.
Arran's hooded eyes never even blinked, nor changed expression, nothing on his face let me know what might be going through his head.
Instead I sat in the strangely bare room, with it's dirty floors, walls and couch, my hands cuffed somewhat painfully to the radiator, in a dead silence. If a drop from a tap fell, or a spider crawled up his web in the corner, I would have heard it.
"Deal."
Pike's eyes blew up wide for a second before furrowing deeply, he looked at his friend like he was mad. "Dude, what?"
He walked back over to me calmly, and those dreaded attractive hands slowly and almost casually undid my cuffs, with eyes that were so unafraid of me, or any possible consequences, that it was almost sinister.
My heart buzzed with something like nervousness, or anticipation? As he finally released me and I was able to rub my reddened wrists.
I looked up at his face.
He stood up, and I slowly stood up too.
He cocked his head, looking me over, he had an inch or two on me, even uncuffed he still felt intimidating to breathe around.
I still stared him down, I was calm, deep inside my soul, no matter what the world was a mile away from me, through a window, behind a screen, blinking in the distance. My world was night no matter the time of day.
I raised my hand and pulled it back and smacked him as hard as I could. His head swung to the side from the force, my hand stung and my wrist even ached a little from how hard I struck him, and even though his skin was a little dark I could see a slight redness almost immediately.
Just during that split second where my hand connected with his face, and the seconds after, I had a strange feeling of exhilaration, not pleasure from causing pain, more like electrified energy from having touched, even struck, something, someone that felt so strangely untouchable.
Like I had beheaded the beast. My hand remained stinging as I pulled it back down to my side, and my blood rushed a little faster.
He slowly turned his head and returned to his former position.
Pike's mouth stayed slightly ajar, eyes slightly wide, he stepped back and moved around us, backing away from us toward the door.
Arran's phone buzzed in his pocket, he casually pulled it out, checked the caller ID and put it back in his pocket, still vibrating.
He walked over to sofa chair in the corner and pulled it around, my backpack was open and some of the stuff strewn out on the seat of the chair.
He picked up one of the sheets from inside the bag and lifted it out with a kind of unusual elegance, two fingers turning it in the air to face me.
For this angle, for the first time I noticed some scratches on his wrist, and two knicks on his fingers.
"If you say anything you'd better do so after you find your dog. Because if you don't, if I do, I'll kill it and eat it."
There was no sarcastic inflection in his voice. The way he spoke I had every reason to believe him.
I narrowed my eyes. "What if someone tells the police but it's not me?"
"Then that would be unfortunate for..." He glanced at the poster. "Milk." He spoke out his name smoothly.
I remained silent, the area between us felt like a warzone, but the world was quiet as death.
Arran then looked over at Pike, gestured for him to go and moved toward the door.
"Wait here for a while, I'll let you go in a bit." He looked at Pike as they were moving through the door. "Lock it." He ordered calmly.
And as the door closed a second later I did indeed hear the lock mechanism give a metallic chuckle, and their footsteps turned down the hall.
The amount of confidence he had was unnerving, as I looked over my bag which they'd gone through seemingly while I was dead asleep, I realised my phone was still there, still charged on five percent battery, and very much still able to dial emergency numbers.
I slowly put my things back in my bag, slugged a strap around my shoulder.
I heard the door shut downstairs on the floor below and two sets of footsteps left the house and his low voice speaking on the phone in short uncaring answers, and then that call seemingly ended and as I looked out of the window I just saw the bright embers of a cigarette being lit where they stood, away from the lamplight.
"Aren't you going to kill him?"
"No, this is much easier." He replied, releasing a drag of smoke into the air and it floated toward the light in the near distance.
"What was the point in kidnapping him then..." Pike grumbled.
"Keep him quiet until the area is cleared. Don't let him report anything while there's anything there to find."
"He could really screw us..." He sounded nervous. He'd sounded nothing of the sort when he was touching up my face and shoving a finger into my mouth.
Arran turned to look at him, just his head, just an inch. "Just because I killed your dad for you doesn't mean I'm going to waste my time killing everyone who's a minor inconvenience now. And you don't wanna do it either."
He grumbled. "I suggested it didn't I?"
He hummed, breathing out more smoke. He looked up, and seemed to catch me watching from the window, or maybe he didn't, I couldn't feel the warmth of his gaze on me, but his eyes stared off in a way that made their reach seem endless.
"Because you like it when people think you're crazy." He smiled just barely and even in the low light of the distant street lamp I could see the slight curve while his eyes seemed just as cold as before. "What if he found out how boring you are... wouldn't that scare you?"
He didn't reply, but shifted with a certain discomfort and hugged his sides.
Arran seemed unperturbed my the silence and let it sit for a while.
"What happens when we let him go? We can just let him leave out the front door. Chloroform?"
There was a barely perceptible shake to his head. "Any more and it might kill him."
"He recovered quickly."
"Kept moving his head, barely inhaled the stuff. Thought he was faking for a minute."
"I still don't get where you caught him."
He didn't answer, but instead got another call, sighed and pulled the phone out of his trouser pocket and lifted it up to his ear with his free hand.
The conversation on the phone was only about half a minute long but he tossed his cigarette on the floor and pushed Pike lightly to go ahead of him down the street.
"Now?" I heard Pike barely saying from a distance.
"He can jump from the window if he's in a hurry. I don't care..." He said something else too but as they walked fast down the street and probably round the corner I could no longer hear them.
I exhaled as I stepped back and looked around the empty room.
The longer I stood there the more unfriendly it appeared to me.
I looked at the door, and then walked up and turned the handle, just checking if it was really locked.
I'd climb out if I had to, but I already recognised the window type, one of those old English windows, with the metal knob keeping the window locked down. It would open about three inches and no more unless I found the key or used something hexagonal to replace it, and I doubted I could find anything like that in the bare room I was stuck in.
The one thing I noticed was the sound as I turned the handle to the door. I tried it again.
I raised a brow and opened up my bag, grabbing one of the missing posters out of it.
I crouched and slid the page under the door, took a pen and pushed it through the lock, and like an old eighties movie I felt something push out of the keyhole, one extra shake saw it release, and there was a thud on the floor.
The door was fairly close to the ground, but the key was small and thin, I pulled it under and there was the key, in my hands.
It was such a matter of pure luck, but as I stood there I almost felt proud. Like I wanted to wait for Arran to get back to show him, like he was some kind of older brother whose respect I wanted. That idea made me uncomfortable, and I opened the door, deciding to leave quickly, before I let this situation become any more bizarre.
Who knew, maybe I was running on adrenaline, maybe when I got home I'd crash and realise the severity of the scene I'd just witnessed. I was probably traumatised and would feel it later as I sunk into my nightmares.
Recently my dreams had all been blank, if I dreamt anything at all other than static, then I forgot it by the time I woke up.
But the moment I opened the door I stepped back in shock as a black cat, that was seemingly rubbing up against the door, paused to look up at me, and then casually strolled into the room passed me, turning back to look at me, stretching and then rubbing up against the sofa chair and the chair near it.
I exhaled, my hands clammy, the back of my neck cold from sweat.
I put the key back in the lock so it wouldn't eat it and stared at the cat for a moment.
~â£ï¸µâ£ï¸µâ£ï¸µâ£ï¸µâ£ï¸µâ£~
When I returned the lights were all out at home. I never thought about how angry they might be at me for staying out so late, in fact when I checked the time just as I entered the house I realised it was close to three in the morning. Which was earlier than I thought.
The house was quiet, my father was audibly snoring in the bedroom but nothing much else could be heard.
They didn't call or text, apparently they didn't care, which was convenient, because had they been there to greet me in all their fury at the door they would have seen that I had not in fact returned with Milk, but with a black cat that meowed softly as I carried her in my arms somewhat uncomfortably, tugging off my shoes with my free hand.
I moved up the stairs quietly, not on purpose, my footsteps felt quieter recently.
In the past the weight of the world accompanied every step I took, I felt as though my feet used to stomp on the floor to make that weight heard, but now it was gone I felt strangely light, like I was being lifted by a pulley system half the way.
I entered my room and set the cat down on my bed.
It looked confused.
I undressed and put on my pyjamas, left and went to brush my teeth, when I exited the bathroom it was right there outside sitting casually, its tail curling and flipping in the air.
It almost seemed to be waiting for me to give it an explanation.
I felt stupid talking to a cat, not like with a dog, Milk always replied, with licks and smiles and panting to fill the empty silence, so I kept it short.
"You'll only be here for a while. Till I find Milk."
It meowed slightly.
I opened my backpack and got out the bag of dry cat food I'd stolen, only about a quarter left anyway, and put it on a saucer still sitting on my desk, it waited patiently, standing next to me, looking up.
I set it on the floor and it gave it a careful lookover first before taking a few bites, and then sitting down to eat the rest.
I remembered the water after a moment and washed and refilled Milk's water bowl and set it beside the food dish.
I sat down on my bed and wiped my eyes with my hands, exhaled and leaned back without lying down.
"You don't behave like your owner do you." I spoke calmly, a little quiet, not interested in waking anyone up.
The cat didn't react to that, but dutifully kept eating.
My hand still tingled. I still felt the shape of his face against my hand. Saw the look of his eyes boring into me. My heart raced a little and I exhaled quietly.
"He might kill me... but if Milk's dead I'm not sure I'll mind..."
The cat looked up just then, finished with its food, stared for a moment and then drank some water, got up, pushed his paws in front of him, gave himself a holistic stretch and elegantly sauntered back over to me.
I ignored it and got into bed, pulling the covers over me. If it wanted to play I didn't have the toys or the knowhow necessary to.
I felt the 'pad pad pad' of his paws on the mattress before I heard the sound as I turned on my side, one arm on the pillow underneath my head, and then felt it walk up, as calmly and assuredly as its owner, right up to my middle as I lay there with a slight curve, pawing the spot for a moment, and then sitting down against my chest, curling up into a little circle.
I blinked at it in the low darkness, the light from the lamppost outside looming like a nightlight into the room.
I closed my eyes quietly and let the black pixelated screen swallow me whole, the warm embrace of sleep dragging me into a world of static.
[A/N] As always I really have to thank the Wattpad Creators Program and my patrons. Without you I wouldn't be able to write these books.