Prospective Readers: It's a story - with mature themes; sex, violence, language - it's not it's not sex with a few filler lines. It'll be a good time if you enjoy stories that have more than just a couple of chapters. I know chapter one is a little hard to get through- but seeing as how I am updating this having just done ch. 14 - it's worth the read and the banter is amusing.
Until next time -
_____________________________________________________
It had not been far past eight in the evening when the sky opened up and pounded the streets with blankets of rain. The power had been knocked out soon after the rain and wind, leaving the city dark except for the lights of Mercy Hospital which back-lit the silhouettes of the buildings. Despite it being a Saturday night, the typically busy streets only bore a few stray souls, soaked in their unpreparedness for the fall shower. One such soul pattered through the puddles in a black knitted tunic, plaid leggings, and neon pink rain boots -- which had only succeeded in pooling the water around her feet from the rain that streamed down her legs. She leaned up against a brick wall to a 7/11 and flicked her fingers outward, trying to shake the water off of her hands. Feeling she had either done a sufficient job with this, or that it was futile, she dug in her bag for a cell-phone. She moved away from the building and walked slowly, staring at the reception bars, or lack there-of, and followed the block further down to find a signal. Shortly unable to do so and coming to a break between buildings, she figured she'd get back on track and cut across the block.
Cell phone still in hand, she whipped around the corner only to be confronted with something running towards her. A boom sound echoed, then the thing running at her vanished with another sound she couldn’t quite put her finger on, followed by a sharp pain in her shoulder and a stinging sensation in her neck. As the spontaneous smoke quickly dissipated, she had only a moment to process that she had just been shot before collapsing sideways against a green dumpster and sliding down onto the ground. With her breaths becoming erratic and her adrenaline working its magic, the panic coursing through her forced her to look around for an explanation. A tall pale figure with a swatch of red and purple behind him came from the darkness and beside him were others. They didn’t make eye contact or seem to notice her until one of them stood by her feet. She looked up only to realize that everything was out of focus. She could see someone was there, but couldn’t see any detail, just the pits in their faces where their eyes and mouth were supposed to be.
“I was under the impression if injured, he couldn't teleport,” A voice growled in frustration.
“Well, if someone could actually aim a gun, he wouldn’t have been able to,” Another voice shot back in defense and motioned to the person lying on the ground.
“Hmmph” a women semi-snorted in disgust of the accusation, “Well, what do we want to do with this one?” she lightly nudging the body on the ground with her foot.
“Leave her,” the agitated man commanded, “weak human that she is… she’ll bleed out before anyone will find her. More importantly, Kurt will be on guard… we may not have this opportunity again.” He sighed, “Perhaps we should be focusing on what to do with you…” He turned and faded out the way he came. The two that had come with him scoffed and followed, leaving the girl’s blurry sight.
The adrenaline had stopped moments after the immediate danger had passed, and she slowly sunk into her worries with the whole bleeding-out bit they had mentioned. She moved her right arm to her left shoulder and tapped the wound lightly, feeling queasy as the reality and pain set in. “Shit…” she gasped, “I …am…so….fucked.” She slid herself up against the dumpster into more of a sitting position than the slumped over ‘about to die’ position she had opted for earlier. Self-preservation was her next goal since she completed the ‘don’t get shot by the baddies: again’ goal moments ago. She drew in a few deep breathes and rocked herself slowly, building up momentum, until she was able to get on her feet. She yelled out in pain as the weight had shifted in her body, “This might not work as I’d hoped…’ she narrated to herself, “but if I can find people…. If I can get to Mercy…” she trailed off as she stood up straight and tried to take a step.
Time seemed to have slowly passed by until she found herself in familiar territory, which was quite far from where she began the night. Though she had not successfully made her way to Mercy, she instead found herself in the parking lot of her apartment building. She reached to the crook of her arm for her bag only to notice it missing. Had they grabbed her bag before they scurried off? She stumbled her way to the glass door of the building and buzzed the 2
nd floor. “Hello?” a voice called through the intercom. She sighed and pressed the button, “It’s me, I’m locked out, can you buzz me in… and can you unlock my door for me?” she asked her landlord. “Three o’clock in the morning, and you buzz me because you are too irresponsible to remember your keys….” She mumbled something away from the speaker, “I’ll buzz you in, Harold is going to unlock your door. You best be quiet, the kids are sleeping—we should all be sleeping…” the scolding had stopped and the door buzzed loudly into her ears.
Harold must have unlocked the door and left quickly because by the time she got to it, it was unlocked and there was no creaking upstairs to be heard. She swung the door open spilt herself over the back of the couch, landing her cheek on a cushion and letting her body slowly slide itself on after her.
The morning light had parted its way through the slats in the blinds and slowly, as the sun drew up, hit her eyes. She groaned and opened the eye that wasn’t smooshed into the couch. A sharp pang of pain quickly brought the events of last night to the forefront of her mind. She twisted her torso over and touched her shoulder. The bleeding had slowed significantly,, probably from the pressure of laying on it. The area hurt to the touch, but more-so when she breathed or tried to move her arm. She decided it was time to face the music and find a mirror to assess the damage.
The bright lights around the mirror hummed as the bulbs warmed up. She had to squint at first as they flickered on simultaneously, so she blindly searched around for the faucet handle. She turned the cold water on and quickly glanced in the mirror and looked down at the water in her hands. Startled, her face shot up into the mirror again and a screeched preceded an anthem of panicked breathes and 'oh shit's. She pulled herself away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the tub. Waiting a moment she got up and looked in the mirror, swore again, and returned to the edge of the tub. She scurried out of the bathroom and went to the couch for her phone. A moment of searching and she recalled she never returned home with it. With no phone to call for help and the fear of her insane landlady catching wind of this, she buckled down and decided to face the mirror again. Placing both hands on the sink, she slowly looked up and stared at her left eye – almost two thirds of it had turned a luminescent yellow while the remaining iris clung onto the hazel it had previously been. “It’s like jaundice on absinthe,” she remarked as she stared it, “it might be something like that… I can see out of it…” She fumbled for the drawer and pulled out a cheap pair of sunglasses and put them on. “Problem solve—“ she was cut off when the a stinging sensation in her neck reminded her that some things were more pressing than others. She looked up in the mirror and caught a glimpse of something catching the light. Leaning closer, she put her hand on her neck and tried to pull it off of her. Her skin pulled with it - whatever it was was barbed and wasn't coming out without a fight. Drawing in a deep breath, she grabbed the end of the object and yanked it out, hissing as he skin withdrew to its rightful place. Upon examination, it looked like about a dram's worth of glass and metal with a three pronged needle at the end, somehow fishing was the first thing that came to her mind, "hmm". Her next order of business was to partially unbutton the knitted tunic single handedly and slide it off of her shoulder. The wound was a lot smaller than it had felt, but the veins around the area were a dark purple, almost resembling spider legs or licorice strands. She touched the wound with her finger and pressed on it.
A momentary feeling of the air being sucked out of her lungs preceded the large room she opened her eyes to. She fell to the ground, unable to catch her breath. “Mein gott…” she heard a thick accent gasp. She kept her focus on the carpet she knelt on, unsure if she wanted anymore surprises for the day. A wheel-chair rolled up alongside of her and she watched it from the corner of her eyes as it stopped squarely by her knees.. She went from kneeling to scootching backwards until she felt what she thought was a wall behind her. “Do not be afraid, Fraulein” the accented voice spoke from behind her. She looked up, now realizing that the wall was actually someone’s legs. What she saw was far from what she had expected to see; a marine-blue monster with sharp teeth, yellow eyes, and – “No!” she yelled, getting up on her feet. She turned her back towards the door she spotted and looked to see the demonic thing in the room and the bald man in the wheel chair. “This isn’t real,” she pointed to the man in the chair, "You’re not real,” and she pointed to the monster, "and you are an indication that I am going to hell. ” She reached a hand backward for the door handle, “I’ve had enough of this. I won’t drink anymore, I won’t stay up past 9, I’ll stop working long days... but no, you are going away!” She seemed confident when she spoke the words, but when the two forms and the room didn’t disappear like they had appeared, she wondered if perhaps she died and this was a heaven and hell scenario.
“I can assure you that this is not heaven, nor hell, and that you are not dead.” The man in the wheelchair spoke.
“Oh…kay….”She turned the door handle and backed out of the room, slammed the door and quickly found a rod-like object on a nearby table to jam the door. She turned around and the demon was right behind her, “You know fraulein, it is not normal for pretty girls to barricade the door’s of a stranger’s home,” His thick accent was almost hard to decipher.
“Normal?” she asked, trying to buy herself some time, “you….” she winced in pain as she moved her arm closer to the door. A look of concern passed for a moment on the demon’s face but was quickly replaced by a smirk. “You’re not one to talk.” She grabbed the rod from the door and hit him upside the head in one fell swoop. He grabbed his head and muttered something, but it was all the time she needed to take off. She found the front door not far from where she had been. She grabbed a long handle and tried to pull, the strain causing her blood to flow once more from her shoulder. The door budged and then opened. She ran outside and stopped on the front step. The property was huge and the road was far away to the point it was hard to make out behind the gate. She took off running down the marked path like a zebra running from a lion. Kurt signed from the doorway. A hand touched his arm, "Before you go, I want to see if a theory of mine is correct," the wheel-chair bound man spoke.
The sensation of the air leaving her lungs overcame her and before she had made it halfway,she was suddenly in the manor running at the wall. The demon looked back at her, then at his counterpart with his interest peeked. The man in the wheel chair had turned around to face her, “I’m starting to get the feeling that perhaps you are at the whim of someone else's gifts, and not your own.”
She looked back wide-eyed, trying to catch her breath and think about a plan B. She looked briefly to the left before taking a quick step in that direction. A familiar sound hit her ears, followed by the smell of brimstone, as the demon disappeared and reappeared behind her. “Ich denke,” he wrapped his arms around her from behind, "not".
“Son of a bitch, let go!” she yelled out. “My, my, fraulein, These words do not become you,” The demon said before lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. The man in the wheelchair and the demon looked at each other, as if they were silently having a conversation, and then the demon teleported with her hitting him in the back.
