Cold Hearts and Stubborn Minds

10: Day 6: Stalkers Everywhere

Thursday

Although reluctant to leave Dylan's bed, I stumble out of his room. I'll have to put the bed back together later.

I sigh and push a hand through my hair, a habit I seem to have gotten from Dylan. He didn't do it much, but just enough that I had caught on and was doing it too.

Once I'm dressed I slowly make my way downstairs. I get some breakfast and wonder when Dylan will be returning. Soon? The middle of the day? Late at night? I could begin to guess.

The day seems to move at a slow, dull pace. No one asked about Dylan other than three girls, so I didn't have to explain much. I told them that he should be back soon. They thought it was rude of him to just leave and not tell me when he was going to be back. I resisted the urge to say that it's not like we're a couple, partially because they'd tease me, and partially because I hoped that we were, in some way.

On the way home, I decide to go through the forest. As I'm walking I'm recalling not-so-old memories, and wishing Dylan was with me. I knew I was acting like a puppy without its owner, but I couldn't help it. I tried to entertain myself; looking at a leaf that has a neat pattern, watching a bird flutter from branch to branch. The weather was just cold enough to keep the bugs away, but not cold enough to freeze me, thankfully.

I eventually find my way to small creek, Colonel's Stream, Dylan had called it. I asked why it was called that, and he said that it probably had something to do with war. Maybe this was an old war-ground once.

I hear a snap from behind me and turn around. "Oh," I say. "It's you." It's the girl from the hill. I wonder how long she'd been following me.

"Um, Ryan, right?" she asks, though she seems sure of herself.

"Yeah," I say. "Have you been following me?"

"Sort of. I wanted to talk to you, but you're so hard to find alone. You're always with a group of friends or the one in black, the one who was kissing you," she says, as if I didn't know who she was talking about. My ears warm.

"People seem to like me," I state, then lean against a tree. "So, we're here, alone. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, we're not really alone," she says. Soon after, about five guys step out from the forest, seeming to have appeared straight from the trees. They're all tall, and look like they could tear me to shreds.

"H-hey," I say, stumbling away from the tree, panic rising in my chest. "Why all the guys?"

"I just want to make sure you won't run off," she says, as if that's the most normal thing in the world.

"Why would I run off? Look, you're freaking me out. Can I just go home-"

"No!" she shrieks, though it sounds more like a wail. "You're supposed to be mine!"

The guys all start clustering inwards, and my heart is racing. My throat feels like it's closing up and I can barely breathe.

I then get the brilliant idea to drop to the ground. I try to crawl between the guys' legs, which was pretty stupid and ridiculous. The guys were slow though, and not very smart. I slipped through with minimal difficulty, and managed to get to my feet on the other side before I heard her yell, "No! Get him! He's mine!"

I took that as my cue to run, and did so, a thunderstorm of footsteps behind me. What was this girl's problem? Why me?

There's no way I'm going to be able to outrun these guys. If I stop, they'll catch up and grab me, and that'll be the end of that.

"He's supposed to be mine!" the girl yells, her voice shrill.

"He's not supposed to be anybody's!" another voice yells back, at the same moment that I feel arms grab my waist.

And then I was off the ground. There was just a multicolored mix of bulky men. We weren't high up, but my head was swimming.

"Stop looking down, Lover Boy," Dylan says, pulling me close to his chest and tilting my head up. "I don't want you puking on me."

I chuckle in relief and wrap my arms around his shoulders, tangling my legs with his.

I hear a scream from below. "That's not fair! He's supposed to be mine! He belongs to me!" the girl wails.

"Living beings choose who they belong to," Dylan says, his voice calm yet deadly serious. "And he belongs to no one."

The girl wails again. "Damn you, Dylan! Damn you and your stupid wings! Damn you and your stupid bond! Damn your kind! A bunch of filthy good for nothing-"

"Alright princess, I think we'll being going now," he says. I can feel us lifting, each beat of his wings pushing us higher.

"He's supposed to be mine!" she wails again. "Mine!"

Her voice fades off into the distance, though, as we rise into the air.