Tourniquet

1. A Beginning

I was never one to fall for supernatural belief. Anything that was left unexplained was unsettling, but I never let my brain wonder in irrational explanations of unknown events. Everything that defied any laws of nature was just waiting to be scientifically defined, and I never really thought about the what-ifs possibility of unnatural powerful force. That is, until I found myself drowning under the pouring rain, the only day I forgot my money for the bus and had to walk for an hour to get back home. Because that could not be anything else than a devil power of sort deliberately making fun of me. In my own opinion, at least.

"That is so like you, Alice Parker, to think that even the universe has something against you", commented Jacob, my not-so-funny boyfriend as I entered my flat.

"Well I wouldn't need to believe that if you had offered to pick me up", I coldly answered, irritated.

Alright, the weather wasn't something he could control, nor was it his fault I didn't own a car, but I really needed someone to blame. And he really could have picked me up, working not to far away from my job, at a tiny, but cute bookstore.

"C'mon babe, dont be like that", he mocked, his voice getting a bit raspier and seducing, trying to get to me.

Soon he was behind me, his nose nuzzling its way in my neck, down my chest, his arms circling my waist with force, curving his toned body into mine. Yet I was having none of it, already aware of his intentions, too tired and annoyed to follow his little game.

"Jake, please.." I began.

He slowly hummed, before kissing my neck again, not really listening.

"Not now, Jake. Please, I'm tired.." I pleaded.

He growled against me, but did not quit touching me, his kisses getting bit more insistent.

"Jake!" I called.

He released me with a displeased sound, giving me a glare.

"It never quite is the time with you, uh!" he threw back at me, discontent, before angrily stomping to the living room, where he would assuredly stay for the rest of the evening, just to be sure I was aware of my mistake. I sighed and made my way to the outdated kitchen, trying to ease his frustration with some Alfredo pasta dinner.

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I quickly made my way up the avenue, almost late for my morning shift at the library, having stayed up late. I blushed, recalling last night's memories, tugging at my jacket so it hid the proeminent hickey midway across my neck. I had gave in to Jake's pushes after dinner, part of it because I really did need to relax, part of it because I was too tired to refuse him.
Glancing at my watch, I strotted a bit faster. It was really out of character for me to be late, and I was sure it would not go unnoticed by my boss. Without really looking, I harshly turned to cross the streets, when an oddly forceful gush of wind took me by surprise, my hair flowing up to its command. I stopped, looking up, and noticed that nothing else seemed to have felt the wind, the trees like frozen in place, flags seemingly carved like statues that kept them down. Simultaneously, a car speeded at a dangerously fast pace and whooshed right where I was about to step before the intriguing whirlwind. My heart sped up at the realisation, mentally thanking nature to be, for once, on my side.I continued my path, this time looking where I went, but not without noticing the single white feather that floated to the draught.

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"Hi, welcome to Jay's bookstore! How can I help you?" I falsely asked to yet another customer.
After responding to his expected "just looking", I continued narrating the strange events of the morning to Ever, my coworker. She was the complete opposite of me, energetically bringing up ghosts in her not so plausible theory, whereas I belived I had just witnessed some kind of bird murder. She went on about her life apparently involving more mystical creatures that you could count and I was almost relieved when my shift ended. My evening was not much different than yesterday, and I quickly fell into a deep sleep. Exept that I did ended up dreaming about ghosts and other improbable stories.

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