Glass Butterflies Chapter 3 [Aylah Snow]

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Chapter 3


Aylah Snow


I screamed like a little girl, until I felt something warm muzzle my mouth. After a few minutes I realized it was Trace's hand. He had his head turned away from me; he was staring at the thing that was clambering through the window.

I heard the tear of skin and smelt the foul stench of hatred and loneliness. I felt cold and began to shiver. But it wasn't the kind of cold that shivering could sort out. It was like soul shattering cold. A depth to it. A whole new level of cold that wasn't meant to exist. I began to whimper as the black creature finally pulled itself into the carriage.

Trace turned to me and silently pressed his finger to his lips. I nodded silently. Something about this action had somehow reassured me.

I stared over Trace's shoulder to look at the thing that was with us.

It was a great beast that loomed over us. It was so tall that it had to stoop its head to fit. It was skinny; in fact it was practically just skin and bones. A long black cape hung from its shoulders and was tied at the waist by some kind of rope. It looked like a demonic monk. A hood hung over its head making its face unidentifiable. A smell so strong took over my nostrils. It took all of my concentration and effort to not gag. I didn't want Trace's hand to be covered in my vomit. That would be embarrassing. But there were bigger problems than Trace's hand at the moment.

The being began to back into a corner. It sank to its knees. Then it sat properly, bringing its knees to its chest. It heaved and shook as thought it were about to rip something apart, or was about to scream. I was becoming vaguely aware of the liquid oozing from its hands. Only just being able to see it in the dark.

I felt Trace remove his hand from my face. I gasped for air as thought it were going out of fashion. And Trace froze on top of me. He kept his gaze away from mine.

The shape in the corner looked over at us. And what a sight we must have been, because it stopped shaking, it threw its hooded head back and screamed. A high pitched scream that set my ears off bleeding again. Then it stood rapidly and began to walk towards us still screaming. Bony hands balled into fists. I heard the crunch of glass as it was ground into the floor or the feet of the demonic monk.

Then silence eased over the carriage. It was getting colder, so cold my breath was becoming visible. Lights began to flash. I closed my eyes against the flashing. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone and the lights were on.

I blinked a few times, and let my eyes adjust to the sudden burst of light. Trace had buried his head in my hair. He lifted his head slowly, as did I. Then I assessed our situation.

Gorgeous guy ready for anything, on top of a girl running from a past she hates.

I slammed my hands into his shoulders and pushed him away. I pushed myself off the floor, creating more wounds to my already damaged self. I felt the glass enter my hands. But I didn't wince; I couldn't let him see my weakness.

Instead he looked up at me with great intensity and astonishment, I wanted to kiss him. But I was too scared and too pissed off to do anything but walk over my original seat, pulled the suitcase from above it and ran out of the carriage. I couldn't bear him anymore.

He might not have been able to feel what I felt. But what I felt from him was enough. The death and loneliness didn't come from the thing that burst through the window. It was coming from him and I was feeling it loud and clear.

Tears escaped my eyes and ran down the corridors. I just ran and ran. Baffled teenagers and children emerged from other compartments. All of them rife with disgruntling questions and bewildered faces. I didn't stop for anybody, not even when I began to hear someone shout my name faintly. Many people had congregated in the corridors making it harder for me to get past. I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. Instead I pushed people out of the way accompanied by "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" and "MOVE!" Adults looked at me as though I was crazy, disappointment at my behaviour and rude manners (or should I say lack of) glinted in their eyes as I flew past them all. Blood flowed down my front from the gashes on my face and from my mouth. That copper taste, it burned my tongue.

After a while I settled in the storage part of the train. I felt safe. I felt alone. I felt tired and sad. I was exhausted.

Memories began to flash through my mind. It ate away at my sanity until I finally gave in. The images burned my head. I screamed in anger and frustration, pain and hatred. I let it all out. I kicked at a few crates and punched in a few walls, until I could feel no more. I leaned against one wall. I sat in the corner and felt myself slide down until I hit the floor. I was beginning to relax, beginning to drift away to my own private paradise. When a voice disrupted my thoughts.


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