two - necklace of bones

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She's running, like she always has been

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She's running, like she always has been. There has never been a time when she hasn't been. At least not one that she can remember. Or maybe once? But all her mind can create is a woman with skin like tree-bark and hair like leaves, her body covered in moss instead of clothes. By this point in her sad, fear filled life, she knows it is only a figment of her imagination, no matter how familiar it feels.

But today is different, because it isn't the day after tomorrow. It's a yesterday. A day from her past. Why is she here? Why does everything look bigger? Why are the Hunter's chasing a little girl, barely at the age of thirteen?

A frown digs into her brow, but her feet keep moving. That is all she knows how to do. It's all she's been taught. Not from a parental figure, or any other type of teacher, but from the very beings that have chased her from the beginning. Her necklace of bones clangs against her chest in rhythm with her heart, her feet. Tears and screams rip at her face as she glances over her shoulder, watching the men chase her with knives longer their her arms.

"WHY?" she screams, heart shattering in its cage. The Hunters do not answer.

The path ahead of her brightens. There is no darkness to hide her. Theresa almost stops running, shock rippling through her like lightning, breaking her movement. But the light grows, and it burns. It burns so brightly, that she has to fall to the ground and shield her eyes, crying out in pain. But the cries of the Hunters behind her are louder, more painful. Maybe they're burning. Part of her hopes they are.

Then something latches onto her ankle. 

Ripping her palms from her eyes, she turns, her scream turning into a screech. A Hunter holds steadfast to her ankle as he draws forth a dagger and runs it down her calf, watching her crimson blood sink into the white sand they lie on. Theresa doesn't think fast enough as she grabs his head with both of her hands, never going silent. She watches in terrifying agony as blackness wraps around his face, sinking into his skin, burning his eyes. His cries change, hollowing out as his flesh melts between her fingers. Then all she can smell is his death.

Gasping, gagging, trying to catch her breath, she scrambles backwards. Tears try to fall down her cheeks, but they come out as black ink, spreading like toxins in water over the white sand. The pain in her leg is nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Her curse. The one thing she cannot control, no matter how hard she tries.

The light dims, letting her see the bones of the man she killed, and the full bodies of the others a few steps away. She doesn't know if they're alive, and she won't go to check. She knows the moment she touches them, they will rot like nothing they've ever experienced. Shakily, she grabs a bone; one of the few things her curse cannot destroy. One might tell her to take the dagger, but her greatest weapon is her own skin. 

Theresa gets to her feet, trembling and limping. Now that the light is gone, she can see a forest in the distance. A place to hide. As she stumbles, she clutches to the bone in her hand, promising to atone for her sins, and to never forget what she has done. She will add it to her necklace of bones.

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