Darkstar part 4

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

His​ ​heart​ ​was​ ​pounding.​ ​He​ ​wouldn’t​ ​believe​ ​it,​ ​couldn’t.​ ​His​ ​feet​ ​wouldn’t​ ​carry​ ​him​ ​fast​ ​enough.​ ​The  wind​ ​bit​ ​his​ ​face​ ​and​ ​made​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​water.​ ​It​ ​wasn’t​ ​true.​ ​It​ ​couldn’t​ ​be​ ​true.
He​ ​needed​ ​to​ ​get​ ​to​ ​the​ ​woods.​ ​There​ ​he​ ​would​ ​find​ ​answers.​ ​If​ ​only​ ​he​ ​could​ ​change,​ ​then​ ​he​ ​would​ ​be  able​ ​to​ ​run​ ​faster.​ ​His​ ​vision​ ​blurred​ ​as​ ​he​ ​ducked​ ​behind​ ​a​ ​bush,​ ​hoping​ ​to​ ​avoid​ ​the​ ​headlights​ ​of​ ​a​ ​car  that​ ​had​ ​just​ ​turned​ ​down​ ​the​ ​street.​ ​He​ ​needed​ ​to​ ​know​ ​for​ ​sure.​ ​He​ ​needed​ ​answers​ ​his​ ​mother​ ​just  couldn’t​ ​give​ ​him.
The​ ​box​ ​had​ ​been​ ​placed​ ​in​ ​his​ ​lap​ ​and​ ​he​ ​had​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​her​ ​with​ ​no​ ​small​ ​amount​ ​of​ ​confusion.​ ​When  she​ ​told​ ​him​ ​to​ ​open​ ​it,​ ​his​ ​fingers​ ​had​ ​gently​ ​trailed​ ​across​ ​the​ ​cardboard​ ​before​ ​removing​ ​the​ ​lid.​ ​It​ ​felt  fragile,​ ​like​ ​it​ ​was​ ​made​ ​of​ ​pressed​ ​onion​ ​skin​ ​instead​ ​of​ ​tree​ ​pulp.​ ​It​ ​didn’t​ ​smell​ ​musty​ ​or​ ​like​ ​it​ ​was  dusty​ ​or​ ​wet,​ ​it​ ​just​ ​felt​ ​as​ ​though​ ​the​ ​contents​ ​had​ ​aged​ ​the​ ​thing​ ​well​ ​beyond​ ​its​ ​years.
With​ ​the​ ​lid​ ​removed,​ ​Elia​ ​found​ ​papers.​ ​Once​ ​more​ ​he​ ​gave​ ​his​ ​mom​ ​a​ ​sidelong​ ​glance.​ ​She​ ​nodded​ ​for him​ ​to​ ​continue​ ​even​ ​as​ ​tears​ ​filled​ ​her​ ​eyes.​ ​Elia​ ​picked​ ​the​ ​first​ ​piece​ ​up​ ​and​ ​opened​ ​it.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​a​ ​letter,  a​ ​letter​ ​in​ ​writing​ ​that​ ​was​ ​similar​ ​to​ ​his​ ​own,​ ​perhaps​ ​more​ ​refined​ ​but​ ​similar.​ ​How​ ​could​ ​he​ ​have known​ ​that​ ​he​ ​wrote​ ​the​ ​way​ ​his​ ​father​ ​had.​ ​His​ ​fingers​ ​traced​ ​the​ ​faded​ ​ink​ ​impressions​ ​on​ ​the​ ​page in​ ​wonder,​ ​before​ ​he​ ​even​ ​realized​ ​that​ ​he​ ​could​ ​read​ ​them.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​a​ ​letter…​ ​to​ ​his​ ​mom.​ ​It​ ​made​ ​him  smile.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​a​ ​love​ ​letter​ ​and​ ​more​ ​than​ ​half​ ​of​ ​it​ ​was​ ​written​ ​in​ ​verse.​ Never​ forget​ ,​ ​Elia​ ​read​ ​more  than​ ​a​ ​few​ ​times​ ​throughout​ ​the​ ​passages.​ ​He​ ​spoke​ ​as​ ​though​ ​he​ ​knew​ ​he​ ​would​ ​not​ ​survive.​ ​​ Never  forget​ ​ how​ ​ much ​ ​I​ ​ love​ ​ you. ​ ​ Never​ ​ forget​ ​ that ​ ​I​ ​ will​ ​ be​ ​ waiting. ​ ​​ Elia​ ​heard​ ​his​ ​mom’s​ ​breath​ ​hitch.  What​ ​had​ ​happened​ ​to​ ​him?​ ​Why​ ​wasn’t​ ​he​ ​here​ ​any​ ​longer?
There​ ​were​ ​more.​ ​So​ ​many​ ​letters.​ ​If​ ​they​ ​had​ ​been​ ​together,​ ​why​ ​had​ ​he​ ​written​ ​so​ ​much?​ ​He​ ​was  afraid​ ​to​ ​ask.​ ​They​ ​had​ ​been​ ​together​ ​for​ ​some​ ​of​ ​the​ ​time​ ​or​ ​he​ ​wouldn’t​ ​exist.​ ​Then​ ​he’d​ ​blurted​ ​it​ ​out  and​ ​regretted​ ​it​ ​the​ ​instant​ ​that​ ​he​ ​did.​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​know​ ​but​ ​he​ ​didn’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​cause​ ​her​ ​any​ ​more  pain​ ​than​ ​he​ ​already​ ​had.
They​ ​had​ ​been​ ​chased.​ ​His​ ​mother​ ​had​ ​told​ ​him​ ​they​ ​were​ ​hiding​ ​because​ ​of​ ​the​ ​wolves.​ ​Now​ ​she  explained​ ​that​ ​it​ ​was​ ​because​ ​of​ ​four​ ​wolves​ ​that​ ​were​ ​no​ ​longer​ ​wolfen,​ ​but​ ​had​ ​turned​ ​to​ ​demons because​ ​of​ ​tainted​ ​blood​ ​they​ ​had​ ​consumed.​ ​One​ ​of​ ​them​ ​was​ ​to​ ​blame​ ​for​ ​the​ ​curse​ ​on​ ​the​ ​Darkstar  family​ ​line,​ ​and​ ​one​ ​of​ ​them​ ​had​ ​been​ ​responsible​ ​for​ ​their​ ​separation.​ ​Elia’s​ ​father​ ​had​ ​gone​ ​to​ ​draw them​ ​away​ ​and​ ​been​ ​cornered.​ ​He​ ​escaped,​ ​narrowly,​ ​but​ ​was​ ​never​ ​the​ ​same​ ​again.​ ​His​ ​mind​ ​was different.​ ​She​ ​couldn’t​ ​reach​ ​him​ ​anymore.​ ​She​ ​couldn’t​ ​feel​ ​him​ ​through​ ​their​ ​bond​ ​anymore.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​as  though​ ​something​ ​had​ ​stolen​ ​his​ ​soul​ ​from​ ​him​ ​and​ ​left​ ​only​ ​the​ ​shell​ ​behind.​ ​Then​ ​he​ ​began​ ​to​ ​wither  until​ ​there​ ​was​ ​nothing​ ​left​ ​at​ ​all.
She​ ​reached​ ​into​ ​the​ ​box​ ​and​ ​found​ ​a​ ​sketchbook​ ​that​ ​had​ ​pages​ ​which​ ​had​ ​been​ ​worn​ ​soft​ ​at​ ​the​ ​edges. When​ ​she​ ​opened​ ​it,​ ​Elia’s​ ​eyes​ ​went​ ​wide.​ ​All​ ​the​ ​pages​ ​held​ ​one​ ​thing,​ ​a​ ​face,​ ​beautiful​ ​and  frightening​ ​and​ ​so​ ​very​ ​familiar.​ ​When​ ​his​ ​mom​ ​had​ ​turned​ ​away​ ​and​ ​covered​ ​her​ ​face​ ​with​ ​her​ ​hands,  his​ ​fingers​ ​strayed​ ​to​ ​the​ ​worn​ ​paper​ ​and​ ​ran​ ​across​ ​its​ ​surface,​ ​tracing​ ​lines​ ​he​ ​had​ ​drawn​ ​himself.​ ​It  was​ ​unmistakably​ ​the​ ​same.​ ​Then​ ​she​ ​turned​ ​back​ ​and​ ​stole​ ​it​ ​from​ ​his​ ​fingers.
That​ ​was​ ​the​ ​reason​ ​his​ ​father​ ​had​ ​wasted​ ​away.​ ​That​ ​thing​ ​had​ ​stolen​ ​his​ ​soul.​ ​That​ ​thing​ ​was​ ​a​ ​curse  on​ ​his​ ​family​ ​line​ ​and​ ​one​ ​day​ ​would​ ​come​ ​to​ ​him,​ ​would​ ​come​ ​to​ ​do​ ​the​ ​same.​ ​There​ ​were​ ​no​ ​guardians  any​ ​longer,​ ​only​ ​nightmares​ ​that​ ​lived​ ​in​ ​the​ ​forest​ ​and​ ​called​ ​with​ ​honeyed​ ​tongues.​ ​Why?​ ​Why​ ​did​ ​it  feel​ ​so​ ​different​ ​if​ ​that​ ​was​ ​how​ ​it​ ​was?​ ​It​ ​felt​ ​more​ ​right​ ​than​ ​his​ ​own​ ​skin,​ ​as​ ​natural​ ​as​ ​it​ ​would feel​ ​to​ ​embrace​ ​the​ ​change.​ ​Why​ ​was​ ​it​ ​a​ ​curse​ ​if​ ​it​ ​felt​ ​so​ ​right?
He​ ​was​ ​up​ ​and​ ​running​ ​scrambling​ ​for​ ​the​ ​treeline​ ​before​ ​the​ ​car​ ​had​ ​completely​ ​passed.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​just​ ​at  the​ ​far​ ​side​ ​of​ ​the​ ​park.​ ​He​ ​just​ ​had​ ​to​ ​make​ ​it​ ​past.​ ​How​ ​ironic​ ​was​ ​it​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​to​ ​go​ ​through​ ​there,  a​ ​place​ ​that​ ​was​ ​joyless​ ​to​ ​him,​ ​to​ ​get​ ​to​ ​where​ ​he​ ​most​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​be.​ ​He​ ​wiped​ ​at​ ​a​ ​tickle​ ​upon​ ​his​ ​cheek  as​ ​the​ ​drawn​ ​image​ ​once​ ​more​ ​flashed​ ​into​ ​his​ ​mind.​ ​He​ ​looked​ ​down​ ​to​ ​see​ ​a​ ​tear,​ ​wet​ ​upon​ ​his​ ​fingers.  He​ ​slowed.​ ​Why​ ​did​ ​it​ ​hurt​ ​so​ ​much?​ ​If​ ​there​ ​was​ ​no​ ​way​ ​that​ ​it​ ​could​ ​be​ ​true,​ ​why​ ​did​ ​he​ ​feel  betrayed?​ ​He​ ​had​ ​to​ ​know.
He​ ​was​ ​right​ ​at​ ​the​ ​edge​ ​of​ ​the​ ​treeline.​ ​He​ ​could​ ​feel​ ​the​ ​temperature​ ​change​ ​in​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​beneath​ ​his  feet.​ ​A​ ​few​ ​more​ ​steps​ ​and​ ​he​ ​would​ ​know.​ ​His​ ​breaths​ ​came​ ​in​ ​sharp​ ​gasps.​ ​He​ ​closed​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​as​ ​he  began​ ​to​ ​hear​ ​the​ ​whispers​ ​that​ ​emerged​ ​from​ ​the​ ​forest.​ ​The​ ​wind​ ​sang​ ​a​ ​lullaby​ ​as​ ​the​ ​trees​ ​welcomed  him,​ ​the​ ​breeze​ ​sighing​ ​and​ ​turning​ ​to​ ​soft​ ​words,​ ​then​ ​to​ ​his​ ​name.​ ​The​ ​forest​ ​would​ ​always​ ​know​ ​him. He​ ​tuned,​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​understand​ ​what​ ​they​ ​said.​ ​A​ ​warning.​ ​All​ ​at​ ​once​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​snapped​ ​open.​ ​They​ ​told him​ ​to​ ​run.​ ​Over​ ​and​ ​over,​ ​​ Elia​ ​ run​ .
A​ ​strong​ ​arm​ ​clamped​ ​across​ ​his​ ​chest​ ​before​ ​his​ ​feet​ ​could​ ​move​ ​and​ ​something​ ​soft​ ​was​ ​held​ ​over​ ​his  mouth​ ​and​ ​nose​ ​as​ ​he​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​wriggle​ ​free.​ ​It​ ​smelled​ ​sweet​ ​and​ ​acrid,​ ​unnatural.​ ​His​ ​body​ ​was​ ​failing,  his​ ​eyes​ ​staring​ ​into​ ​the​ ​woods​ ​as​ ​he​ ​couldn’t​ ​resist​ ​the​ ​strength​ ​of​ ​the​ ​one​ ​who​ ​held​ ​him.​ ​There​ ​before  him,​ ​like​ ​a​ ​ghost​ ​among​ ​the​ ​trees​ ​was​ ​the​ ​face​ ​he​ ​had​ ​drawn,​ ​his​ ​father​ ​had​ ​drawn,​ ​the​ ​eyes,​ ​and​ ​then  the​ ​name​ ​as​ ​the​ ​darkness​ ​overtook​ ​him.

*​ ​*​ ​*

He​ ​had​ ​felt​ ​a​ ​little​ ​bit​ ​silly​ ​when​ ​he​ ​had​ ​been​ ​out.​ ​It​ ​had​ ​made​ ​him​ ​late,​ ​but​ ​now​ ​it​ ​was​ ​worth​ ​it. Elia​ ​needed​ ​clothes.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​known​ ​the​ ​boy​ ​for​ ​longer​ ​than​ ​any​ ​other​ ​person​ ​alive.​ ​This​ ​person who​ ​was​ ​trapped​ ​as​ ​a​ ​child​ ​at​ ​least​ ​deserved​ ​the​ ​dignity​ ​of​ ​dressing​ ​in​ ​something​ ​more​ ​than​ ​a hospital​ ​gown​ ​for​ ​his​ ​entire​ ​life.​ ​It​ ​had​ ​been​ ​nearly​ ​thirty​ ​years​ ​since​ ​that​ ​dark​ ​and​ ​horrible night,​ ​almost​ ​long​ ​enough​ ​to​ ​forget,​ ​and​ ​all​ ​that​ ​he​ ​could​ ​remember​ ​seeing​ ​clothe​ ​this​ ​small person,​ ​whom​ ​he​ ​cared​ ​for​ ​very​ ​deeply,​ ​was​ ​a​ ​hospital​ ​gown…​ ​unacceptable.​ ​It​ ​went​ ​round and​ ​round​ ​in​ ​his​ ​mind​ ​as​ ​he​ ​set​ ​the​ ​small​ ​things​ ​out​ ​on​ ​display​ ​for​ ​the​ ​nurse,​ ​who​ ​had accompanied​ ​him,​ ​to​ ​see.
“I​ ​had​ ​no​ ​idea​ ​what​ ​he​ ​might​ ​like,​ ​so​ ​I​ ​got​ ​him​ ​a​ ​bunch​ ​of​ ​things.​ ​Now​ ​you​ ​can​ ​just​ ​pick​ ​through. I​ ​hope​ ​he​ ​likes​ ​it…​ ​any​ ​of​ ​it.​ ​I’ve​ ​never​ ​seen​ ​him​ ​dressed​ ​in​ ​real​ ​clothes​ ​before.”​ ​He​ ​was​ ​second guessing​ ​himself​ ​before​ ​he​ ​even​ ​got​ ​a​ ​start​ ​picking​ ​an​ ​outfit.​ ​“Do​ ​you​ ​think​ ​you​ ​could​ ​get​ ​him dressed​ ​before​ ​I​ ​take​ ​him​ ​out​ ​for​ ​our​ ​walk​ ​while​ ​I​ ​get​ ​the​ ​wheelchair?”
He​ ​didn’t​ ​really​ ​give​ ​the​ ​girl​ ​a​ ​chance​ ​to​ ​argue​ ​before​ ​he​ ​left​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​Elia​ ​would​ ​be​ ​dressed when​ ​he​ ​returned…​ ​or​ ​not.​ ​He​ ​would​ ​jump​ ​that​ ​hurdle​ ​when​ ​he​ ​came​ ​to​ ​it.​ ​His​ ​shoes​ ​tapped on​ ​the​ ​linoleum​ ​and​ ​only​ ​quieted​ ​when​ ​he​ ​paused​ ​before​ ​what​ ​appeared​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a​ ​closet.​ ​He hoped​ ​the​ ​door​ ​was​ ​unlocked​ ​and​ ​tested​ ​the​ ​knob​ ​before​ ​letting​ ​himself​ ​into​ ​the​ ​darkened portal.
Green,​ ​where​ ​was​ ​it?​ ​There​ ​was​ ​one​ ​that​ ​was​ ​smaller​ ​than​ ​the​ ​rest​ ​and​ ​had​ ​a​ ​green​ ​seat​ ​and rest.​ ​It​ ​had​ ​crocheted​ ​pads​ ​on​ ​the​ ​foot​ ​rests​ ​that​ ​matched​ ​the​ ​blanket​ ​that​ ​was​ ​at​ ​the​ ​foot​ ​of Elia’s​ ​bed.​ ​He​ ​scanned​ ​the​ ​row​ ​of​ ​folded​ ​wheelchairs​ ​twice​ ​before​ ​he​ ​spotted​ ​it​ ​on​ ​the​ ​far​ ​side of​ ​the​ ​dimmed​ ​room.​ ​He​ ​tested​ ​the​ ​knob​ ​before​ ​he​ ​went​ ​for​ ​it,​ ​afraid​ ​he​ ​would​ ​be​ ​locked​ ​inside and​ ​forgotten​ ​if​ ​he​ ​didn’t,​ ​before​ ​he​ ​was​ ​plunged​ ​into​ ​complete​ ​darkness.​ ​He​ ​blinked​ ​as​ ​the soft​ ​greys​ ​came​ ​into​ ​focus​ ​first,​ ​then​ ​the​ ​shadows​ ​of​ ​the​ ​place​ ​stood​ ​back​ ​from​ ​those​ ​in​ ​slightly darker​ ​contrast.​ ​The​ ​only​ ​light​ ​source​ ​was​ ​the​ ​small​ ​window​ ​on​ ​the​ ​door.​ ​He​ ​reached​ ​and​ ​gently pulled​ ​the​ ​wheelchair​ ​out​ ​from​ ​the​ ​others.​ ​Someday,​ ​hopefully​ ​someday​ ​soon,​ ​Elia​ ​would​ ​walk beside​ ​him​ ​instead​ ​of​ ​requiring​ ​this​ ​thing.​ ​For​ ​now…​ ​It​ ​worked.​ ​They​ ​would​ ​go​ ​for​ ​a​ ​walk together​ ​and​ ​he​ ​wouldn’t​ ​have​ ​to​ ​worry​ ​about​ ​Elia​ ​getting​ ​cold.
A​ ​shadow​ ​obscured​ ​the​ ​light​ ​as​ ​he​ ​turned​ ​and​ ​he​ ​froze​ ​as​ ​he​ ​found​ ​his​ ​exit​ ​blocked.​ ​Eyes​ ​of​ ​icy fire​ ​watched​ ​as​ ​he​ ​slowly​ ​straightened​ ​and​ ​swallowed​ ​hard.​ ​In​ ​the​ ​darkness​ ​like​ ​this,​ ​the​ ​scars on​ ​his​ ​face​ ​and​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​illuminated​ ​the​ ​gentle​ ​curves​ ​of​ ​his​ ​face.​ ​Something​ ​so​ ​beautiful​ ​should not​ ​cause​ ​such​ ​repulsion.​ ​This​ ​creature​ ​had​ ​said​ ​it​ ​was​ ​an​ ​angry​ ​soul,​ ​but​ ​for​ ​once,​ ​the​ ​detective wondered​ ​why just​ ​as​ ​he​ ​wondered​ ​what​ ​had​ ​happened​ ​in​ ​that​ ​room​ ​full​ ​of​ ​blood.​ ​Now​ ​he tried​ ​to​ ​fit​ ​the​ ​pieces​ ​that​ ​he​ ​knew​ ​together​ ​and​ ​he​ ​still​ ​didn’t​ ​have​ ​enough.
“You​ ​have​ ​done​ ​well.​ ​Soon​ ​things​ ​will​ ​change.”​ ​His​ ​voice​ ​was​ ​soft,​ ​only​ ​a​ ​whisper​ ​in​ ​the darkness.
“Change?​ ​You​ ​mean,​ ​he’s​ ​going​ ​to​ ​wake​ ​up?”
The​ ​creature​ ​before​ ​him​ ​nodded​ ​then​ ​took​ ​a​ ​step​ ​towards​ ​him.​ ​He​ ​became​ ​immediately​ ​aware of​ ​how​ ​small​ ​the​ ​room​ ​was.​ ​His​ ​breath​ ​froze​ ​in​ ​his​ ​lungs​ ​as​ ​delicate​ ​fingers​ ​smoothed​ ​along​ ​his throat.
“Bring​ ​him​ ​back​ ​to​ ​where​ ​it​ ​all​ ​began.​ ​Bring​ ​him​ ​back.”
The​ ​detective’s​ ​brows​ ​shot​ ​up​ ​as​ ​a​ ​horrified​ ​expression​ ​gripped​ ​his​ ​features.​ ​He​ ​never​ ​wanted to​ ​see​ ​that​ ​place​ ​again.​ ​He​ ​still​ ​had​ ​nightmares.​ ​Twisted​ ​bodies​ ​with​ ​outstretched​ ​hands, reaching​ ​as​ ​though​ ​they​ ​waited​ ​to​ ​be​ ​saved​ ​and​ ​died,​ ​frozen​ ​in​ ​a​ ​state​ ​of​ ​false​ ​hope.​ ​The shattered​ ​body​ ​of​ ​a​ ​woman​ ​who​ ​was​ ​missing​ ​half​ ​her​ ​face.​ ​Parts​ ​of​ ​a​ ​man​ ​that​ ​were​ ​spread​ ​as though​ ​he​ ​had​ ​been​ ​ripped​ ​apart​ ​from​ ​the​ ​inside​ ​out,​ ​and​ ​Elia​ ​at​ ​the​ ​center,​ ​made​ ​androgynous by​ ​his​ ​captor,​ ​staring,​ ​empty,​ ​his​ ​body​ ​just​ ​as​ ​used​ ​and​ ​broken​ ​as​ ​all​ ​the​ ​rest,​ ​but​ ​he​ ​had remained​ ​alive.
“I​ ​don’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​go​ ​back​ ​there.​ ​Don’t​ ​make​ ​me​ ​bring​ ​him.​ ​I​ ​want​ ​him​ ​to​ ​be​ ​happy,​ ​not​ ​like​ ​them, not​ ​like​ ​that.​ ​He’s…​ ​he’s​ ​my​ ​only​ ​friend.​ ​I​ ​don’t​ ​want​ ​him​ ​to​ ​hurt​ ​anymore.”
The​ ​detective​ ​had​ ​begun​ ​to​ ​shake​ ​as​ ​the​ ​creature​ ​smoothed​ ​tears​ ​away​ ​from​ ​his​ ​cheeks.​ ​Now hands​ ​that​ ​surely​ ​must​ ​have​ ​caused​ ​so​ ​much​ ​pain​ ​to​ ​others,​ ​collected​ ​him​ ​gently​ ​and​ ​he​ ​found himself​ ​held.​ ​It​ ​shouldn’t​ ​have​ ​been​ ​comfortable​ ​but​ ​it​ ​was​ ​a​ ​comfort.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​like​ ​being​ ​gripped by​ ​a​ ​nightmare​ ​that​ ​was​ ​so​ ​familiar,​ ​that​ ​its​ ​terror​ ​brought​ ​peace.​ ​He​ ​could​ ​smell​ ​blood​ ​on​ ​the clothes​ ​he​ ​was​ ​held​ ​against,​ ​and​ ​oak​ ​leaves,​ ​long​ ​dried​ ​and​ ​withered.​ ​This​ ​was​ ​not​ ​the​ ​way​ ​of things.​ ​Something​ ​had​ ​changed.​ ​Some​ ​part​ ​of​ ​his​ ​plea​ ​had​ ​meant​ ​something,​ ​his​ ​fear.​ ​He​ ​took​ ​a breath​ ​and​ ​closed​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​as​ ​deadly​ ​fingers​ ​combed​ ​through​ ​his​ ​hair.
“You​ ​dear​ ​old​ ​man.​ ​I​ ​meant​ ​the​ ​woods.”

*​ ​*​ ​*

His​ ​head​ ​swam​ ​as​ ​he​ ​fought​ ​against​ ​the​ ​darkness.​ ​Slowly,​ ​so​ ​slowly​ ​he​ ​became​ ​aware​ ​of​ ​little​ ​things.​ ​His  body​ ​lay​ ​on​ ​something​ ​hard,​ ​a​ ​table,​ ​perhaps​ ​the​ ​floor.​ ​The​ ​air​ ​was​ ​chilled.​ ​There​ ​was​ ​a​ ​ringing​ ​in​ ​his  ears…​ ​wait,​ ​that​ ​was​ ​wrong.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​screaming.
His​ ​mouth​ ​was​ ​dry​ ​and​ ​he​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​lick​ ​his​ ​lips.​ ​Why​ ​did​ ​he​ ​feel​ ​so​ ​sluggish?​ ​How​ ​had​ ​he​ ​come​ ​to​ ​be  laying​ ​against​ ​the​ ​hardness​ ​that​ ​was​ ​beneath​ ​him.​ ​It​ ​sounded​ ​like​ ​there​ ​were​ ​so​ ​many​ ​people​ ​in​ ​the  room.​ ​Was​ ​he​ ​laying​ ​in​ ​the​ ​road?​ ​Had​ ​he​ ​been​ ​at​ ​the​ ​park​ ​again?​ ​This​ ​was​ ​worse​ ​than​ ​the​ ​last​ ​time.  Usually​ ​they​ ​only​ ​hit​ ​him.​ ​It​ ​wasn’t​ ​like​ ​this​ ​where​ ​they​ ​knocked​ ​him​ ​unconscious.​ ​Something​ ​was  wrong.​ ​Why​ ​couldn’t​ ​he​ ​make​ ​his​ ​limbs​ ​work.​ ​His​ ​mom​ ​would​ ​be​ ​worried.​ ​Usually​ ​she​ ​would​ ​call​ ​for him.​ ​Maybe​ ​she​ ​was​ ​and​ ​he​ ​couldn’t​ ​hear​ ​it​ ​over​ ​the​ ​screaming.​ ​What​ ​were​ ​they​ ​saying.​ ​He​ ​recalled​ ​the last​ ​thing​ ​he​ ​had​ ​heard.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​been​ ​at​ ​the​ ​treeline​ ​and​ ​it​ ​was​ ​night​ ​time.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​heard​ ​them,​ ​the voices​ ​as​ ​soft​ ​as​ ​the​ ​wind,​ ​soothing,​ ​calming.​ ​Run!​ ​Now​ ​they​ ​were​ ​screaming,​ ​muffled,​ ​as​ ​though​ ​the  were​ ​restrained​ ​by​ ​a​ ​force,​ ​unable​ ​to​ ​break​ ​through.
“You​ ​are​ ​so​ ​beautiful,​ ​little​ ​one.​ ​Can​ ​you​ ​open​ ​your​ ​eyes?​ ​I​ ​know​ ​you​ ​can​ ​hear​ ​me.”
Elia’s​ ​brow​ ​furrowed.​ ​He​ ​didn’t​ ​know​ ​that​ ​voice.​ ​It​ ​had​ ​been​ ​quiet​ ​compared​ ​to​ ​the​ ​screaming​ ​but​ ​he​ ​had  heard​ ​it​ ​anyway.​ ​He​ ​didn’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​with​ ​this​ ​person.​ ​He​ ​didn’t​ ​know​ ​who​ ​they​ ​were.​ ​Why​ ​was​ ​it​ ​so  quiet​ ​and​ ​so​ ​loud​ ​all​ ​at​ ​once?​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​run​ ​but​ ​his​ ​legs​ ​wouldn’t​ ​move.​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​sit​ ​up,​ ​to  crawl​ ​away​ ​but​ ​his​ ​body​ ​had​ ​betrayed​ ​him​ ​and​ ​lay​ ​still​ ​upon​ ​the​ ​hardness​ ​beneath​ ​him.​ ​​ ​He​ ​took​ ​a  shuddering​ ​breath,​ ​the​ ​only​ ​thing​ ​that​ ​he​ ​could​ ​do.​ ​Breathe.​ ​He​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​hear​ ​one​ ​voice​ ​in​ ​the​ ​screaming.  He​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​hear​ ​anything​ ​of​ ​what​ ​they​ ​said.​ ​​
Bad​ ​ place! ​ ​ Bad ​ ​ place!​ ​ Pain!​ ​ Hurts! ​ ​ Get​ ​ up!​ ​ Get​ ​ up​ ​ Elia!
It​ ​came​ ​clear​ ​just​ ​before​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​hands​ ​upon​ ​him​ ​and​ ​the​ ​screaming​ ​became​ ​a​ ​ringing​​​ ​in​ ​his​ ​ears.​ ​All  that​ ​they​ ​did​ ​was​ ​brush​ ​his​ ​hair​ ​from​ ​his​ ​face.​ ​He​ ​felt​ ​eyes​ ​upon​ ​him.​ ​He​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​speak​ ​but​ ​could​ ​only  manage​ ​a​ ​small​ ​sound​ ​of​ ​distress.​ ​Why​ ​did​ ​he​ ​feel​ ​like​ ​this?​ ​Why​ ​couldn’t​ ​he​ ​move?​ ​His​ ​heart​ ​began​ ​to  race​ ​as​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​the​ ​hands​ ​shift.
“How​ ​old​ ​are​ ​you,​ ​my​ ​sweet?​ ​You​ ​can’t​ ​be​ ​more​ ​than​ ​twelve.​ ​You’re​ ​perfect.​ ​Will​ ​you​ ​open​ ​your​ ​eyes like​ ​a​ ​good​ ​girl?​ ​I​ ​want​ ​to​ ​see​ ​the​ ​color.​ ​It’s​ ​okay,​ ​honey.​ ​You​ ​won’t​ ​feel​ ​a​ ​thing​ ​and​ ​it​ ​will​ ​all​ ​be​ ​over soon.”
He​ ​couldn’t​ ​help​ ​himself.​ ​He​ ​was​ ​not​ ​a​ ​girl!​ ​He​ ​was​ ​nearly​ ​fourteen!​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​move!​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to  run​ ​to​ ​where​ ​the​ ​voices​ ​were.​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​say​ ​the​ ​name​ ​of​ ​the​ ​one​ ​who​ ​would​ ​make​ ​this​ ​all​ ​go​ ​away,  but​ ​his​ ​mouth​ ​refused​ ​to​ ​do​ ​anything​ ​so​ ​all​ ​he​ ​could​ ​do​ ​was​ ​whimper.​ ​The​ ​man​ ​before​ ​him​ ​was​ ​pale,​ ​too  pale,​ ​with​ ​a​ ​curtain​ ​of​ ​hair​ ​that​ ​fell​ ​like​ ​cobwebs,​ ​a​ ​mix​ ​of​ ​blond​ ​and​ ​white,​ ​into​ ​his​ ​eyes.​ ​His​ ​shirt​ ​was  untucked,​ ​unbuttoned,​ ​his​ ​pants​ ​were​ ​open,​ ​and​ ​in​ ​that​ ​instant​ ​Elia​ ​wished​ ​he’d​ ​never​ ​opened​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​at all.​ ​Why​ ​would​ ​someone​ ​like​ ​that​ ​expose​ ​himself​ ​to​ ​a​ ​child…​ ​unless…
“There’s​ ​my​ ​good​ ​girl.​ ​You​ ​really​ ​are​ ​the​ ​most​ ​beautiful​ ​one​ ​that​ ​I​ ​have​ ​found​ ​yet.​ ​Don’t​ ​worry.​ ​I​ ​told you​ ​it​ ​won’t​ ​hurt​ ​and​ ​I​ ​meant​ ​it.​ ​None​ ​of​ ​the​ ​others​ ​ever​ ​complained,​ ​but​ ​then​ ​again,​ ​I’m​ ​not​ ​really  sure​ ​how​ ​this​ ​stuff​ ​all​ ​works​ ​so​ ​maybe​ ​you​​​ will​ ​ ​feel​ ​it​ ​and​ ​just​ ​won’t​ ​be​ ​able​ ​to​ ​do​ ​anything​ ​about​ ​it.​ ​I’ll  be​ ​the​ ​last​ ​thing​ ​you​ ​feel.​ ​Won’t​ ​that​ ​be​ ​nice?”
Elia​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​shake​ ​his​ ​head​ ​no.​ ​All​ ​he​ ​could​ ​do​ ​was​ ​breath​ ​as​ ​a​ ​growing​ ​constriction​ ​gripped​ ​his​ ​chest  and​ ​his​ ​breaths​ ​became​ ​ragged.​ ​He​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​change.​ ​If​ ​he​ ​was​ ​a​ ​wolf​ ​he​ ​could​ ​run,​ ​run​ ​far​ ​away​ ​from  everything.​ ​He​ ​could​ ​run​ ​until​ ​there​ ​was​ ​nothing​ ​left​ ​of​ ​him​ ​and​ ​he​ ​could​ ​be​ ​free.​ ​He​ ​could​ ​hear​ ​his  pulse​ ​drumming​ ​in​ ​his​ ​ears.​ ​He​ ​desperately​ ​searched​ ​the​ ​room​ ​looking​ ​for​ ​anything​ ​that​ ​could​ ​help​ ​him,  anyone.​ ​Branches​ ​scraped​ ​across​ ​the​ ​window.​ ​Branches​ ​that​ ​turned​ ​into​ ​screams​ ​as​ ​gruff​ ​hands​ ​began​ ​to fumble​ ​with​ ​his​ ​clothes.

*​ ​*​ ​*

He​ ​had​ ​to​ ​school​ ​his​ ​expression​ ​as​ ​he​ ​walked​ ​back​ ​into​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​The​ ​wheelchair​ ​caught​ ​the attention​ ​of​ ​the​ ​nurse​ ​as​ ​one​ ​of​ ​its​ ​wheels​ ​hit​ ​the​ ​door frame​ ​when​ ​the​ ​detective​ ​hastily entered.​ ​She​ ​had​ ​just​ ​finished​ ​pulling​ ​his​ ​pants​ ​on​ ​and​ ​startled,​ ​dropping​ ​the​ ​shirt​ ​she’d​ ​picked on​ ​the​ ​floor.​ ​He​ ​was​ ​handing​ ​it​ ​to​ ​her​ ​just​ ​as​ ​she​ ​fumbled​ ​to​ ​balance​ ​Elia​ ​so​ ​that​ ​she​ ​could reach​ ​it.​ ​His​ ​slight​ ​body​ ​nearly​ ​slipped​ ​from​ ​her​ ​grip​ ​and​ ​she​ ​let​ ​out​ ​a​ ​little​ ​eep​ ​as​ ​she​ ​steadied him.​ ​Gently​ ​the​ ​detective​ ​helped,​ ​pulling​ ​long​ ​dark​ ​hair​ ​out​ ​from​ ​the​ ​collar​ ​and​ ​settling​ ​it​ ​about Elia’s​ ​shoulders.​ ​Once​ ​he​ ​was​ ​sure​ ​that​ ​the​ ​shirt​ ​was​ ​pulled​ ​down​

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net