MY BREATH PUFFED out in front of my face in clouds, making it look like I was smoking every time I breathed out. The wind blew my hair away from my face as I walked hurriedly down the sidewalk. It pinched my cheeks and turned my nose pink, but I didn't slow down. I needed to get as far away from St. James's as possible.
On more than one occasion, I felt like I was being followed. Each time I turned around, though, there was no one there. The last time I checked behind me, I grabbed my hood—I know I said I'd stop wearing hoodies, but I sort of needed it now—stuffed my hair into it, and brought it close to my face. Even if no one was awake to notice that I was gone, I couldn't risk people recognizing who I was. And my bright red hair was kind of a dead give away.
I kind of felt like the people passing by in their cars took one look at me and thought that I was trouble. I wasn't—at least, not in the way they thought. I wasn't going to run around, pulling guns or knives on people and demanding they give me their wallets. As much as the money would be helpful right now, I wasn't that type of person. I did seem to attract the murderers and rapists, though, so I guess that could be considered trouble.
The feeling that I was being watched crept up the back of my neck again. I frowned and stopped, turning to scan the street behind me. It was empty, save for the car turning at the intersection. Once it was gone, though, the street was literally abandoned except for me. The wind pushed a piece of paper across the asphalt, flipping it over and over. I watched it move noisily across the street until it hit the curb, pressing flat against the cement. Then I turned and began walking again.
At least, I tried to.
“Oomph!” I muttered, bouncing off whatever was suddenly in my way and falling on my butt. I winced and glanced up, glaring up at the person standing in front of me. Not that they could see me since my hood cast my face in shadow. “Sorry,” I said, my tone not very polite. I started to stand again.
“You've been walking for quite a while,” the person said observantly. “Would you like a ride?”
I glanced up sharply at the man. “Excuse me?” I exclaimed, taking a step back. “Have you been following me this whole time?”
The guy crossed his arms across his chest. I squinted at him, trying to make out his features, but the streetlight was behind him, casting his face in shadow. “Since you left St. James's, yes,” he replied, tilting his head up slightly. “So, would you like that ride?”
It was then that I noticed there wasn't a car in sight. “I don't think so,” I muttered, eying the empty street warily. “I'm good with walking.” I started to brush passed him.
The guy caught my arm. “That's too bad,” he muttered, his hold on my arm tightening. “You see, Jemma, I wasn't really asking. You're coming with me.”
I suddenly got the odd feeling that this guy was more dangerous than just creepy-stalker-guy dangerous. “Why?” I asked, feeling way too close to him for comfort. I was starting to get the idea that this guy was actually the Secret Admirer. Seriously, I couldn't walk a mile without being caught by this guy? I could barely pass as pathetic at this point.
“The Boss has some words he'd like to exchange with you,” the guy explained.
The Boss? Who was that supposed to be? Before I could get my mouth open to ask, though, a shadow came out from nowhere and punched him in the face. I squeaked and jumped back as the guy fell to the ground, releasing my arm from his hold. Then the shadow-guy, while still shaking his hand, turned to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him as he ran. My squeal of surprise was lost in the wind as we ran. It took me a few minutes of staring at the back of his head while we ran before I realized why he seemed familiar.
We'd put a few blocks between us and the unconscious mob-guy, so I pulled him to a stop. “Lyle?” I exclaimed breathlessly, staring up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. What the heck was he doing here?
I saw his back stiffen before he turned around, his smile almost sheepish as he glanced up at me. “Hey, Jemma,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
It was very evident that I was angry with my next words. “What in the world are you doing here?” I cried, my hands clenching at my sides. He was supposed to be back at the academy!
His whole demeanor changed, and suddenly he was very tense too. “What am I—?” he sputtered, his voice incredulous and outraged at the same time. “What are you doing out here, Jemma? You said you wouldn't leave!”
It was my turn to be sheepish. “I can't let you die,” I mumbled, looking at the ground and scuffing it with my shoe. My sneakers were ratty and let the cold air right in, making me curl my toes in on themselves.
“That's not the point, Jemma,” Lyle shouted, making me cringe. “You said you wouldn't leave, and then the next thing I know, I'm punching some guy's lights out about a mile away from St. James's!”
I remained silent, unsure of how to respond to that. “What were you doing following me?” I whispered finally, peeking up at his face.
He ran his hands through his hair angrily. “I had this feeling you were lying,” he muttered angrily, staring off into the distance. His jaw was set and he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “And that kiss—God, that kiss. It was amazing. There was no way you'd just give something like that away unless you thought you wouldn't see me again.”
So I was right, it was completely idiotic of me to kiss him in the way that I had. Why did I have to be so stupid? I bit my lip and stared at the ground, letting my hair blow around my face. My hood had fallen down when Lyle had grabbed my hand and practically dragged me down the roads. I glanced around the abandoned street warily, I still felt like someone was watching us.
“We need to go,” I muttered, grabbing onto his hand and pulling him behind me as I hurried down the street—still in the opposite direction of the knocked out mob-guy. I think.
“What, why?” Lyle exclaimed quizzically, but he didn't pull away as I led him down the street.
“It's not safe out here,” I told him, glancing around. Rubbing the back of my neck, I decided to cross the street.
“Where are we going then?” he asked, lacing his fingers with mine. Now, instead of me leading him, he was just walking with me. We just looked like a normal couple out for a midnight stroll.
I paused at an intersection and glanced around before choosing to turn right. “I don't know,” I admitted, tightening my hand around his. “Just somewhere that isn't out in the open.”
I dug through my bag, searching for the first aid kit that I'd stuffed somewhere in it. Lyle had split his knuckles when he'd punched the guy in the face. “You must've hit him pretty hard,” I muttered, frowning and pulling my bag closer so I could look in it as I dug through it. “I mean, he was out cold.”
“You have a first aid kit?” Lyle asked instead, his nose scrunching up like he couldn't believe that a first aid kit was something I'd packed.
I shot him an exasperated look and pulled the first aid kit. “We were all required to have one,” I told him, pushing the bag out of the way. “Didn't you have one?” I began disinfecting the small cuts spanning across his knuckles.
He frowned at the stinging. “Nope,” he muttered. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked. “Why'd you pack it?”
I shrugged. “You never know when you'll need it.”
We fell silent as I continued to disinfect the cuts and then bandaged them. It wasn't like it was anything major, but even the smallest cut could get infected, and from the looks of this place, I didn't want him to get sick. We'd walked a few more blocks until we'd found a boarded up, two-story store. I'd been a bit hesitant at first, but the moment I remembered the creepy mob-guy and the weird being-watched feeling, I'd started trying to figure out how to get in. Luckily, I'd come prepared and was able to unlock the locks with my bobby pins.
Those were also something Lyle had raised an eyebrow at me. I had a feeling most of the things I'd brought were going to be things he thought I could do without—but so far, most of them had been useful. I wasn't going to take his judge-y looks for anything as long as everything I brought was useful.
I released his hand. “Okay, you're good to go,” I sighed, dropping my hands into my lap. “Now go back to the academy.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you going?”
“No.” My eyes narrowed on him as he smirked. “You need to go, though, there's a serious chance you could die out here.”
“Yeah, and there's a serious chance you could die out here too,” he pointed out, shrugging as if this conversation was normal. “I'm not going back unless you're going back.”
I watched him lean against the wall and smirk over at me, his whole posture unworried. It made me worry more that he didn't seem to care at all that he could possibly die. Lyle was only eighteen, he had so much to live for—and he wasn't a bad guy either. He could do anything, be anyone, but if he came with me, he couldn't have any of that. Heck, he'd be lucky to see the next day. All because of me—the girl who's followed by a murderer.
I felt the tears sting the back of my eyes as I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The more I tried to push them back, the more the tears continued to sting and fill up my eyes until I pressed my forehead to my knees and let them fall. I tried to push them back desperately, force them to stop, but they just trailed down my cheeks silently.
“Jemma, what's wrong?” Lyle asked, suddenly concerned.
I shook my head, lifting it and wiping the tears away. “Everyone I've ever known has died,” I murmured, jaw clenched as I stared at one of the boarded up windows. “And you want to know what sucks most about it? It wasn't ever something normal, like cancer or old age. It wasn't ever something that anyone could have helped once they found out...”
“Jemma—”
I shook my head, glancing over at him. “No, Lyle,” I snapped, the tears making my voice waver. “You don't get it do you? They were all murdered, murdered. And why? Well, the only reason I can think of is because of me. Because whoever it was wanted to get to me, and they couldn't do that with everyone else around me.” I paused to take in a big, shaky breath. “So, yeah, tell me one more time that you aren't going back unless I go back. I dare you.”
My jaw was clenched as I stared at him with steel in my eyes, but I think the tears might've taken the hard edge out a bit. Especially when a tear slipped over my eyelid and down my cheek by itself. I wiped it away angrily and glanced away from him, pressing my lips together. Then I opened them and whispered the one thing that was crawling through my mind slowly, back and forth like it owned the place.
“I've killed everyone I've ever known.”
“Jemma, no,” Lyle said softly, scooting over to me and pulling me into him. “No, you can't think that. It's not your fault, there's just some stupid psycho out there who's targeted your family.”
I snorted. “Gee, that really makes me feel better,” I muttered into his chest, squeezing my eyes shut. “God, Lyle, I can't watch someone else I love die. I can't do it again.”
He stiffened and then his lips were at my ear. “Did you just say you love me?” he whispered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice without looking at him.
I frowned and leaned back to look at him. “Only in so many words,” I told him, rolling my eyes. I scrubbed at my face, trying to erase the evidence that the tears had ever been there. “Why can't you just go back to the academy?”
He smiled, and it wasn't one of his stupid, smug smirk smiles. It was his literal, genuine smile—the one that lit up his eyes and made his features softer. He brushed some of my hair behind my ear and met my gaze. “Because I love you,” he murmured, grabbing my hand. There was a brief flash of uncertainty in his eyes, but he pushed it away. “And if you die, then I'm going to die with you. We die together, Jemma.”
My heart had stopped when he'd said those three words. Had I heard him correctly? Did he really just say that he loved me? Me? The girl who has a murderer after her? No way. And then the rest of what he said caught up with me, and as much as it warmed my heart, that is not what I wanted at all. I didn't want him to die, period. I didn't care if he thought we should die together. If he died, then I hadn't done something right.
I stuffed my head into my hands. “Lyle,” I groaned, and I realized my hand was still clasped with his. “You aren't supposed to die. That's my point!”
“I don't think you're supposed to die, either,” he muttered, and he was frowning when I glanced up at me. “Y'know, that was not the reaction I was looking for when I told the girl I love that I loved her.”
My lips quirked up slightly. “What exactly do you want me to say?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. “I mean, this is me we're talking about here, I can barely talk to someone on the phone, let alone to someone in real life. What makes you think I know how to respond to such a revelation?”
He laughed, throwing his head back. “You know, you're right,” he agreed, hugging me closer to him so that I had to tilt my head up to look at him. “And that's exactly why I love you.”
“Because I'm right?” Most guys didn't like that. In fact, they usually hated that because it meant they couldn't win the argument.
His body rumbled with another laugh. “No, because you're Jemma,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into mine. “And as awkward as you are around other people, it makes me love you that much more.”
“You know, I technically said it first,” I muttered, staring at one of the boarded up windows.
“What?” he exclaimed, laughing.
“Yeah,” I told him, leaning back to look up at him. “You know that's why you had enough courage to say it in the first place, because I'd already said it. Basically.”
“Basically,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You are just too much, you know that?”
I shrugged, my smile lopsided. “I get that a lot,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I love you, too. There, happy?”
“Yes.”
We laughed together until I got tired again and we decided to call it a night. Or day, technically. The sun had started to rise after we'd found the abandoned place, which I thought was perfect. Sleep by day, travel by night. Sure, we looked a little suspicious walking around at night to onlookers, but it was harder to identify us if it was dark. Which meant it'd be harder for the Secret Admirer to identify me, I hoped.
I was at a park.
What park, though, was the question. I hadn't been to very many parks in my lifetime, and what ones I had, I could barely remember. I knew my parents had taken me to the park multiple times before they'd died, but I couldn't remember what it looked like. I could only imagine it looked something similar to this, though.
This one had a giant lake positioned in the middle of it, the water all sorts of blues and greens. I could just barely make out the fish darting beneath the surface and the water bugs zipping along the top of the water. The grass was lush and green, blowing in the wind, and the trees' leaves rustled in the wind. Moss hung from the gigantic trees that dotted the sidewalk that lined the entire length of the park, probably meeting on the other side of the lake.
I found a park bench and sat down on it, watching the sunlight sparkle across the water. It was such a warm, nice day. There hadn't been a day like this in forever, where everything was just peaceful and someone could actually slow down to hear themselves think. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, soaking as much of the moment up as I could. It'd be too soon that this would go away, I could feel it.
The warm feeling of the sun on my skin slowly faded and the warm breeze became a stabbing, icy wind. My eyes snapped open, taking in the darkening park. I could see everything becoming eerie and sinister, like a blanket was settling over the park, or maybe a film lens. And then the darkness crept across the park.
I shot to my feet and ran, trying to get away from the creeping darkness. Whatever was in that darkness was bad news, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. Try as I might, though, I couldn't outrun the darkness. It crept forward slowly until it covered half of my body, and then it continued forward, swallowing everything. All I saw was black.
Breathing hard, I turned in circles. Where was I? What was happening? Where'd the park go? The darkness had swallowed everything, leaving me alone. Leaving me feeling like something was missing, like a hole was just in the middle of my abdomen. I was missing something, what was it?
I whirled around one more time and came face to face with the Grim Reaper. Typically, his lip-less face made me feel like he was grinning at me. This time, though, as he clutched his scythe in one hand, he made me feel sad. He gave off this solemn vibe from him, as if he was sad to be showing up right now. Then he pointed at me and words whispered from his mouth, but I couldn't move. And he didn't disappear.
I suddenly knew why I felt like something was missing.
“Jemma Niks.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ooooh, looks like Jemma's jealous! Haha. So, I did put this story up for the Watty Awards and I would be immensely grateful if you guys would comment and vote for it? I know, I know, I get annoying down here, always writing that I want you guys to comment and vote, but what am I supposed to do? The comments and votes keep me going! Anyways, I appreciate all of you! Ta-ta for now! ~ Sage
EDIT:
A/N - Ahahaha, so... Are you wondering what I was talking about in the first Author's Note? You should be, there's nothing for Jemma to be jealous of in this chapter (yet, I might add some to it somewhere, depending on how long it is). Tell me what you think? :)
STOP! Chapter nine hasn't been finished. I will tell you when it has been. ;)
Okay, you can continue now! ^-^
Stay awesome, opossums! ;) ~sage