A reemergence followed and that spark, that slither of her, reclaimed her form. Naomi turned away from the forest edge and the moon bore witness as her knees buckled. She took a breath, made a prayer, and approached the sleeping boy with a cool head ready to properly assess what she saw. When she walked the bend of the large tree and saw him again, Naomi bit her quivering lip. I didn't notice this before, but what's that dark red stuff all over him. I-it can't be. She loomed over him to confirm her grim suspicions. Then the boy's eyes burst open.

Naomi saw a pale gaze and her very soul was struck. Stupefied, confused, and a scared beyond words,  Naomi could not react when a great force pushed her away. She tumbled, up, and down, then all around before she was slammed on her back. The thud sent a shock riding up her spine that not even her stuffed backpack could negate. Her school supplies splattered on impact, but her bat remained wedged between the her body and the hard ground. She then felt pressure against her jugular. It was as hand.  His hand, crushing her throat.

"You really thought you could sneak up on me," hissed the dark boy.  After tackling Naomi, he smashed her head against the grass, knocking her brain into a second fit of confusion. "I may be a little tired after ripping through your goons from before, but I can still hear." His menace was palpable

Suffocation. Strangulation. Death. These words ran through Naomi's mind in capitalized letters of red as one hand struggled against her assailant and the other reached for salvation only God could offer. "Wait," the girl gagged. Her desperate utterance was not very audible, but the boy heard the hoarse plea.

"What?" The boy loosened his grip. "What the? W-who in the world are"--

Bang went the bat against the boy's skull. Naomi did not know what she had grabbed, but, without the time to care, she simply swung. The force sent her assailant flying, and she quickly climbed to her feet with panic causing her to convulse. Her hands clammed and her breaths were too short to matter.  Even her bright eyes trembled as they lingered on the body before her. 

"Oh no," Naomi whimpered. "No. No-No. No!" She crawled to the body, but the blood that began pouring from his head quickly fell into her hands.

"D-don't be dead," Naomi pleaded. "Don't be dead!" When no movement followed, Naomi could no longer breathe. He was gone. She was a murderer.

Tears rolled down her freckled face, and, in an attempt to repress her mounting distress, Naomi fled the scene and the ghastly sight. The snapping of sticks and the thrashing of leaves could be heard as the girl stole off into the thicket, but it was all just racket to the dark boy. A guttural groan ripped into the forest, following the sun-kissed girl as she fled. When his growls met her ears, her stride extended.

He's a monster, Naomi thought. The conclusion came with an exponential increase in speed and Naomi flew through the shadows as a line of flickering fire. As for the boy, he dragged himself upright like a kid on a school day. He grimaced in the direction of his attacker l as the indention in his skull slowly buffed out. He poked at what had become a mere abrasion and sucked his teeth from the immediate sting.

"That actually hurt," said the moon-eyed boy. He then looked at vanishing girl, far in the dark distance. "She's actually pretty fast too." It was all a genuine shock, but not for long. "Well, whatever," said the dark. He then noticed the mess left in the stranger's wake and rolled his eyes.

"Hey! Don't leave your junk here," he shouted. His ears were losing the sounds of her footsteps. The girl was gone, but her belongings remained. Now fully awake, the mental image of the bat-swinger soured his bitter mood. The boy fell back, rolled to his side, and scoffed. "...Dumb bitch."

. . .

Achim is young, but he has been through a lot. There's a lot to be said about how his experiences has effected him and, when writing him, I often wonder who he would be if he had a different background. In the very least, I image he would smile a lot more.

 In the very least, I image he would smile a lot more

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