Enemy Beloved

32 | run

"Found you!"

Suddenly, a pair of hands grab my waist, trapping my hands in between.

"Let me go, you fucking asshole!" I wriggle in his arms and he presses his palms to my thigh, keeping me in place.

"I don't want to do this, Claire. But I have to. Lessons need to be taught," he whispers into my ear, sliding my hair to the side.

He turns me around and pushes hard. I fall to the ground, hands braced to the sides and my spinal cord hits the ground, skittering bone-chilling pain through my body. My body trembles with the impact, the injuries jolting my very bones.

"Ah!" I scream in pain, tears pooling in my eyes as I close them. "Someone help me, please...someone please..."

It is daylight still, someone should have seen me by now. What happened to all the people? I start to cry as the man bends down, laying his hands flat on both sides of my body, hovering above me.

"Don't cry!" he shouts at me, his hand moving to my neck and his long fingers wrapping around it. "Don't you fucking cry." As he squeezes softly, more tears spring from my eyes. "I said don't cry!"

The gloved hand he had on my neck, travels up to my face, rubbing the tears but my tears are endless. The more he rubs them away, the more I cry. He keeps wiping my tears like a frantic, yet his touch is gentle.

It is like all he wants to do is shove that knife through parts of my body but not hurt me without a weapon. Maybe, just maybe, I can stall my death and see if someone finds us here. The sun will be down soon but there will be people here. No place in a city is that secluded. Ever.

"You...who are...you?" I grab the wrist of the hand with which he is rubbing my tears and he stills, unmoving as he looks at me through the mask's hollowed eyes.

He has chosen his getup carefully. I am not able to make out a single thing about him except that of his height and bodily features which only make me see that he could be none other than an average American white man. I can only see his skin color because of his neck and it isn't even useful.

"Shh...don't talk." He yanks his hand away from my grip and takes hold of both of my wrists, trapping them over my head, his legs straddling my hips. "Don't talk, don't cry, don't give me that innocent look."

His voice is so inhuman that it greets me with chills, making me believe that if I tear my eyes away from him, he will not wait before he slices me down with his knife. The hilt of his knife digs into the palm of my hand and I try to curl my fingers around it, see if I can grab hold of it but he notices my action and presses the hilt straight over my palm, pressing hard and making me cry out in pain.

"Ah...it hurts! Please..."

"It should hurt." He presses harder making me feel like my bones might crack under the pressure he is applying. My eyes shut themselves as I take long breaths to calm down. "Oh, look...you've stopped crying. Good girl. Now, don't you worry, I'll go real slow. Just shove it inch by inch down your throat and we'll be done."

Fuck!

I open my eyes and see him shifting his position and find both of my hands trapped in one of his as he frees his other hand to bring the knife closer to my face. The sharp edge touches my temple, slicing down, making burning pain slither to me. He drags the knife downwards, stopping at my cheekbone, cutting my cheek. The warmth of liquid trickling down my face makes me writhe under him.

"That will be a reminder of the little time we had together," he whispers, indicating the cut which will leave a scar, ruining my face forever,

I have to do something. Anything. Anything that can trick him.

'You're my little thief, sister. Never forget that.'

Chris.

As the knife is lifted over my throat, it shakes in his hand. I flick my gaze behind the man and speak words that make him stop on track.

"Vaughn..." I let out with a sigh of relief. "You're here."

The knife freezes midway and the man flips his neck to look behind him.

Got you!

I use all my body's strength to lift my head. He quickly turns to me but he is too late because my head hits his outstretched hand with the knife and the object flies from his hand. The sudden attack makes his grip on my hands loosen and I use my freed hands to push him hard off me.

"Fuck!" he groans when he lands on the ground on his butt and I don't look back as I stand up and take steps away from him.

My chest inflates with relief and the adrenaline in my body gives me all the strength I need to get away from this psycho.

Before he can gather his wits back, I run.