Wherever you go, they see you.
Whenever you blink, they're there.
They were here before you were born.
And when you die they'll be with you in The Underground.
-
San Francisco is a city run on blood and held together by secrets. Decades ago, large...
A cold hand traces delicate circles on her skin, the smooth movements sending tingles down her spine. It moves to her waist, pushing aside soft cloth to get at the even softer flesh underneath. Fingers dance across her stomach and toy with the waistband of her panties. A slender thumb pushes underneath them, pulling them away from her body in a desperate motion.
On the other side of her is warmth, a rough but comforting hand caressing her neck gently. It slides downwards, tracing the sensitive skin along her collarbones before sinking lower. Precise fingers dip below the edge of her shirt and inch slowly across her skin, a thumb grazing the side of her breast in a tantalizing taste of what could be.
Both hands freeze, the expectation of what they offer making her skin crawl with excitement. Her clothes are gone, but as is the thrill, replaced by a gnawing sense of terror. The hands tighten their grip, digging into the flesh of her chest and stomach like starved fiends.
There are more hands now, dozens, hundreds, pulling at her skin, dragging her downwards. They grip her arms and hold her in place, forcing her still no matter how she kicks and struggles.
The screaming begins. They beg for release. They beg for anything.
She listens for centuries.
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
Shrill beeps pulled Vivian from her sleep, squawking at her to look at her phone. It vibrated against her wooden nightstand, lighting up her otherwise dim room. She rolled on to her side and lazily slung an arm over to grab the loud, annoying rectangle.
5 missed calls from the same number – one she didn't recognize. It was eleven in the morning.
Before she could call it back, it rang again. She answered, more than a little annoyed.
"Hello?"
"Are you just now waking up? I said to be prompt woman!"
Vivian rolled her eyes. "I have a name you know."
"I said to be prompt, Vivian!" Dominic exclaimed from the other end of her phone. She was rather surprised he had a phone.
"How'd you even get my number?" she asked, rolling onto her back and staring up at the neutral-colored ceiling.
"Melanie gave it to me. Are you going to meet me at Paradise, or do I need to come by the house?" he asked. She could hear the scowl – the slight huff of exasperation and the tease of a potential smile just at the edge of his lips. Or maybe she imagined that part.
"I'll meet you at Paradise. Say, do you have a spare bedroom?"
"What?"
"Never mind. I'll be there in twenty." She hung up the phone, tossing it back onto the nightstand. She wasn't sure where she could stay – Melanie handled most of their finances and gave her a cut of the commission. Unfortunately, hunting scamps and police work didn't pay very well. Brienne might let her stay, after Vivian got her out of jail, of course.
She sighed. This wasn't a good week.
With lead-filled limbs, she dragged herself out of bed, packing her duffel bag with the usual goodies, a fresh notepad, and changes of clothes. Frankly, sleeping in her car seemed preferable to the house. Maybe the rust would keep out the nightmares.
Vivian crept down the hallway, bag slung over her shoulder and hair tied in a dirty ponytail. Not her sexiest look, but it matched the feeling of running away from home. As a 25-year-old. I've gotta get my shit together.
To her surprise, the house seemed empty. The lights were off but as she passed by the living room area, she could see a gentle green hum of light flickering on one of the shelves. She glanced between the door and the light. Her fingers twitched. She sighed and went to check out the light.
Perched on one of the shelves, sandwiched between a few heavy looking books, was a small emerald necklace, protected by a glass container. It glimmered and shined, vibrant with the life of a soul trapped in it.
"All this stress and suffering so random shit can give me a headache," she muttered. The bright light gleamed back at her in response.
She rushed out of the house soon after, leaving the quiet dreariness inside to enjoy the quiet dreariness outside. Her junker car sat comfortingly in the street, and she walked to it quickly, tossing her bag in the passenger seat.
The engine roared to life much like a lazy housecat and the car lurched into the street, taking her in the direction of Paradise.
