Blood In The Water (Phan)

{1} Self-Preservation

We are all creatures of self-preservation. It's integral to our survival. We will always look out for number one, do what we need to in order to benefit ourselves above others. It's in our nature, scientifically speaking. Pain and fear stimulate us, create monsters out of us, bring out our inner beasts to protect ourselves. Avoid scenarios where we become weak, situations that are detrimental to us, where we are vulnerable. We wear masks of deception, laugh in the presence of things that terrify us to convince ourselves we still have the upper hand. We laugh and tease those who don't play this game as well as some know how to. Yet, inside, we are all weak, feeble humans just trying to stay alive. Or so I thought. And somehow, some of us are sharks. And others are just blood in the water.

I walk down the silent street, one headphone in, hands stuffed in my pockets as I make my way back home. The library has always been captivating to me, sometimes, I'm yet to find out, to my demise. I get caught up in the worlds that are created by inked pages, lose myself in stories that sound so much better than my own life. Stories where mythical creatures exist, where fairy godmothers are bound to save the day when things go wrong. Where the ones who are struggling actually get help. But for me, it doesn't go that way. Not in this world where dark things are far too real and the magic doesn't save the day. Where the shadows come out to bite you and no matter how loud you scream, nothing comes out. Where people like me get hurt, and no one says a word.

It's too quick, his motions too nimble for me to catch, a blur of black, the scent of blood and worn leather, piercing blue and then nothing but pain.

***

"We can't protect him, Phil. You made a mistake now it's time to dispose of him, you know the rules."

"I can't, Pj. I can't hurt him, not anymore."

"You already did, Phil. It's too late for him."

"I won't say anything, to anyone." I cut in, voice groggy and laden with sleep. My body feels numb, muscles foreign as I try to move, staying still. I groan and close my eyes tighter against the harsh light in this unfamiliar room. My head pounds, body aching, throat burning as if I haven't had a drink in weeks.

"He's awake," a strange voice claims. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the film from behind my eyes.

"See what you've done now, Phil? Marcus will not be happy." A different voice, a boy with brown hair and a strong jaw, arms crossed, leaning on the wall. It looks like blood on his blue t-shirt, but I can't be sure. The room smells metallic though. Metallic and...good.

"It's always harder to dispose of them once they're awake. Not impossible, though." Closer now, a voice to my left. I turn my head, a boy with bouncy curls and piercing spring green eyes. He grins at me, sharp teeth dangerous, glinting in the light.

"I won't 'dispose' of him, Pj." To my left now. I turn, finally seeing something somewhat familiar. Black, worn leather jacket, piercing blue eyes filled with concern and protection. Protection for what? Dispose of me? I shudder at the thought. His eyes flick down to the sudden movement, his actions quick, so much so it's startling. "Cold?" He asks, voice clear and acute. It's pleasant to listen to, the kind of voice that would tell great bedtime stories. Though, I have a dark feeling he's more of a nightmare than I'd care to believe. I just furrow my brows at him.

"You can't seriously be asking how he feels right now, Phil. It doesn't matter." Pj, I guess his name is, replies for me. His voice is biting and holds a hint of disgust, obviously aimed towards me.

"This doesn't concern you," Phil stands now, hands balled into fists, angelic voice now taut. Pj stands as well, glaring darkly at Phil. Phil's own eyes turn to ice, blazing with cold hatred.