Bikes & Blood

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈.

"Cry little sister.
Thou shalt not fall."
-Cry Little Sister, Gerard McMann.

David's words hung in the air, echoing off the mould smattered walls like they clouded her mind. Deafening and absolute in all their calamity, clattering to the floor with a distinct clink as though a dagger had slipped from his hand and connected blade first with the floor. She knew with jarring certainty that she hadn't misheard him-despite the longing that assured her she had-the starkness of his eyes leaving no room for uncertainty, nor did the unwavering satisfaction flee from his irises.

The eternalness of his gaze unsettled her; frigid and malevolently eclipsed by something dark. Something monstrous. She wondered, despite the coolness of his blue-eyed stare, if that ridged faced beast with golden-yellow eyes stared back at her. Watching her every move from behind whatever barricade David built for it-if he'd bothered to build one at all, or had simply succumbed to the darkness that engulfed the night sky. Embracing the violent bloodshed that others shied away from.

"You-" She paused, frowning as she tried to quiet the resounding roar in her ears.

Shaking her head as though it'd be enough to quell the selfish thoughts that danced through her mind, because she didn't want to die. She wanted to live. It was that tiniest sliver of longing that ravaged her mind-rolling through her head and crashing against her skull like a wave upon a rock-that whispered of the price she'd have to pay as she dropped her gaze to the rubble-littered floor. It reminded her of the blood that would stain her hands and rid her of the obscenely clutched hopes of being good.

It was maddening. Like she could only watch as her past unravelled before her. Forced to choose between her life and the bloodied life of Kai. Her lip twitched, fighting to quell the distaste that rippled in her chest as muffled whispers filled her mind and she lifted her gaze from the floor. Her brown eyes met David's with an uncharacteristic indifference that brought an amused smile to his lips, knowingly watching whilst she fought for purchase within her mind. Her subconsciousness clawed at the surface of the ocean that longed to drag her under its dark depths, fighting to break through the surface as wave upon wave crashed down on her, hoping to force her below its chilling depths.

"Come on, baby girl. Relax." She gasped, shaking her head vehemently as she staggered back from her memories. Refusing to allow the stagnant scent of beer to cloy in her mind with the thumping music that hauntingly dug its talons into her chest. "I can show you a good time."

"Stop fighting it, Amara," David stated, calling her attention to him and away from the brewing memories she kept tucked in the darkest corners of her mind. "Let it go."

Phantom hands gripped at her clothes, tugging, and pulling in their desperate attempt to rid her of the oversized band t-shirt and jeans that steadied her. Tying her to that jarring reality whilst her mind begged to slip away and refocus on the world around her. "No. Stop." Her face twisted into a grimace as her voice echoed in her head, eerie and distorted. "Get off of me."

Her knuckles ached with a ghostly pain that forced her gaze from David and to the scarred flesh of her knuckles. Her vision warped and twisted as her eyes widened with the hysteria that gripped at her throat, dragging her beneath the unrelenting waves that bit at the torn and blood-stained skin of her knuckles.

Brown, almost black eyes flashed before her eyes. Dun-brown curls darkened by blood. Blue-metal stones smattered in crimson that marred her hands and soaked into the crisp blueness of her jeans. A heart-shaped face bloodied and bruised beneath the waxing full moon.

"Amara! What have you done?"

She couldn't remember what'd possessed her in that moment, but, as she turned towards her father with torn knuckles and blood-splattered jeans. She'd laughed. A cruel laugh that echoed across the inky sky. She'd known that whatever she'd done could never be purged from her father's mind as she turned back towards the bleeding man that weakly whimpered in pain, unmoving as he trembled beneath her stare and her voice had filled the night. As eerie and disconnected as the memory itself.