Chapter 12
There were so many reasons for my hatred, I lost count a while ago. I no longer believed my life could go on without it. It was a part of me. My fuel. My meaning. The reason I hadn’t given up yet.
I could hear the clatter of boots. They were crushing every twig in their path, turning my body into an adrenaline machine. It felt like he was breathing down my neck. I thought my head would roll off just as fast as the girl’s if I were to turn it to look back even for a second.
To my surprise, this forest was even smaller than the first. I ran out into a field covered in tall grass.
I looked right and saw an old gray wooden fence. It looked like a fence someone used to keep cows or some other cattle behind.
I ran to it and was about to climb over the flimsy logs. The wood was rotten, but it held up pretty good.
I could see a grove with tall grass and oaks ahead of me.
How long did I have to keep running for? I didn’t have much energy left in me. I needed to hide. To sit it out. Confuse him.
I climbed over the fence and looked back.
He wasn’t there.
I began looking around in panic. I could hear him. He was somewhere close-by.
Where did he go? Where was he hiding?
There’s no way he got ahead of me. He definitely didn’t have time to hide.
I was moving forward through the tall weeds, some of which reached my stomach .
The sounds got louder and clearer. I realized those were the sounds of fine metal clashing. I saw two men knife fighting behind the trees to the left. One of them was dressed in a suit, like he’d just left the office, while the other guy looked like one of the bandits back at the university.
They’re here already.
I stopped dead, as if something pulled me back. They were fighting fiercely, paying me no mind. That meant I could run by them unnoticed or hide and wait it out.
I was about to run to the left when a black cloak suddenly appeared from behind a tree, like a creature from the underworld. The cloak was long and covered the entire body. The hood covered the face, giving me no chance to see who it was. I could tell it was a man from his broad shoulders.
I turned my head back and saw the bald guy run out of the forest like a horror-movie killer, looking around wildly. His bloodlust-fueled crazy eyes met mine. He was chasing after me like he was hired to kill me.
Which way do I run? Which way?!
My heart was torn with fear. I looked in front of me and saw the man slowly move his black hood back.
His coal-black hair was styled back in small waves.
A tiny stubborn black strand broke loose, falling handsomely on his forehead.
His eyes were black. Like bottomless void staring into my soul.
The darkness in them looked ready to pounce and slaughter me.
His dead gaze sent a wave of freezing cold through my body.
He looked like a grim reaper.
My gazed went lower. The cloak sleeves were long and covered his hands. When I noticed a machete in his right hand, I wanted to scream.
The weapon looked clean and polished. It was shiny .
I saw a leg on the ground behind him. There was a dead body there. I began to shake like I was burning with fever. I was looking around feverishly, trying to figure out a way to escape.
There was nowhere to run. If he didn’t kill me, the bald psycho would. If the bald freak didn’t get to me, the one who wins the knife fight would do the trick. Or they could all get together and chop me into chunks in this grove.
I was trapped.
Taking slow, yet broad steps, the reaper was coming closer. His terrifying eyes never leaving mine.
I took small steps back, not letting his machete out of my sight. He was swinging it about, making his way to me through the tall grass. His movements were nimble and effortless. The machete made a soft swish as it touched the grass.
My heart was thumping in my chest as if about to explode like a balloon.
My head was ringing from the tension and the cruel fate I was about to face.
“What’s your name?”
I looked up.
Did I hear that right? Did he say that? Or was it in my head?
His expression didn’t change. It was just as cold and aloof as before. His aura didn’t just scare me, it petrified me, chilled me to the bone.
I wanted to look back to see where the bald man was. But it was like the reaper was the male version of the Gorgon, there’s no other way to explain the stupor I felt. My body would not obey me. It was ready to meet death.
Once he got lethally close to me, I took a big step back and slipped, falling down. He caught me by the waist and pulled me flush against his wet cloak. I could feel the warmth of his body through it.
“Zoe. My name’s Zoe. ”
My voice was shaking.
Would these be my last words? Was he going to kill me now? Did he always ask for a name before killing someone?
I took one deep breath and closed my eyes tight while my body kept shaking.
His left hand stroked my hair,or did I imagine it? Then he pulled back and stepped around me.
I opened my eyes and turned back.
He kept walking straight ahead.
Towards the bald guy.
Was he going to kill him? Was he about to protect me? Was he going to save me? Was he on my side?
My eyes met the bald guy as he climbed over the fence. Bloodlust was clear in his crazed eyes. He licked his lower lip and grinned at me with that ugly smile of his.
My face scrunched as I felt a wave of chilling terror envelop me.
The reaper stopped right by him, staring me down with his bottomless eyes.
What was going on?
“That bitch is mine.”
The bald guy pointed his machete at me paying no attention to the reaper.
Were they together?
“You want her? Come and get her.”
His voice was deep and stone-cold.
My hope was crushed right before my eyes.
The reaper kept standing still, looking at me. I wanted to run, but my body was bound by invisible chains.
It all happened so fast I could barely recreate it in my head.
The bald guy didn’t make it another step forward when my eyes went wide.
Machete exited from his belly. Blood was leaking from his mouth, flowing down his chin, spilling on the ground in spurts.
He didn’t make a sound as his eyes went hazy, body falling to his knees .
The reaper put his black boot on his back, pulling the bloody machete out effortlessly. The dead body lay on the ground, the white “Born to Kill” print now soaked in brownish blood.
The blood on reaper’s machete dripped down from the base along the very tip of the deadly blade.
The reaper was spotless. His black cloak was a mantle protecting him from blood splatter. I saw so much blood that day. The Earth changed color from green to blood red that day.
I looked up. The reaper walked slowly, watching me with the same grim look in his eyes, the one that gripped and squeezed the life out of me.
The men who attacked the university might have looked terrifying, which they definitely were.
But they were no match for him. He had this air of calm, hidden danger about him, and only his black eyes would give it away.
You couldn’t run or hide from the likes of him.
You could stand in a crowd silently, drawing no attention to yourself, but he would not let you by.
He’d notice you, dragging you with him to the heart of the purgatory itself.
His looks radiated toxic magnetism. It could befuddle and trick you. He was like the sun, tempting you to fly closer and get scorched by its rays. But once you reached it, you’d realize it was all an illusion. He was never the sun, but a black hole, ready to devour you, reduce you to nothing.
Was he not going to kill me? Was he going to kill me? Was he not going to kill me? Was he going to kill me? Was he not going to kill me?
The reaper came closer and gripped my hand firmly. He dragged me after him. I followed, not gripping his hand back. I had to resist, hit him. Even try to break free. But instead I quietly followed him, leaving the wild grove.
When I heard footsteps behind me, my heart began racing all over again, hurting my chest. I tried to break free from his grasp, but he gripped my hand tighter, causing pain .
I could only turn my head. I remembered the man he was the one at the knife fight. His eyes met mine and looked away almost immediately.
He was wearing a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and dark pants. His white shirt was stained with blood.
We walked in silence. We were surrounded by dead silence. No birds were singing. No screams could be heard. There was nothing but the monotonous rustle of his black cloak to accompany our footsteps.
The gears in my brain were grinding, trying to work out an escape plan. I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of it. Just because they weren’t with the bandits didn’t mean they’re on my side.
My brain was swimming in feverish junk, and an idea to tell them I needed to pee and then run away seemed like the only worthwhile one.
Hitting him, snatching the machete, getting out of his grasp and running was impossible.
There were two of them, and I was alone.
I was only going to waste my strength or even make them angry, giving them a reason to kill me sooner.
I had a fleeting thought that maybe they were helping me. Maybe they’re taking me to a hide-out, a place where I’d meet everyone else who made it out safely.
But who would force their victim to hold hands with them? I had to run, run until I pass out from exhaustion.
My life was on the line, and I didn’t want to test just any theory. I knew I had to get away as soon as possible, before they took me to their lair.
Out of all the ideas scolding my panicking brain, the idea to tell them I need to pee seemed like a real way out. I’ve regained some of my strength, I would be able to act fast.
Through the still green trees up ahead I saw a glimpse of an old, abandoned-looking manor. Time clearly wasn’t too kind to it. I could see part of a time-stained statue with an eroded face and cracked body.
We were walking straight ahead, and I saw a body out of the corner of my eye. I turned away, only to turn back to it right away. My head went dead silent.
My left hand tried freeing my palm from his grip, scratching him while tears were streaming down my face, landing on our hands like raindrops.
He didn’t react. He kept holding my hand in his iron grip silently until I raised my teary eyes to look at him.
His jet-black eyes, darker than a moonless night, stared me down with disgust and disdain. Suddenly, he released my hand, as if ridding himself of the burden of me.
I took off and when I was close to the body, my foot tripped over a thick tree root sticking out of the ground. I fell and hit my knees on the still wet soil. Refusing to get back to my feet, I began crawling to him, like I forgot how to walk.
My chest felt crushed. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It’s like I forgot how to inhale the air. Tears blurred my eyes like a shroud of mist. I did not want to believe it.
That wasn’t him. It was not him. It couldn’t be him.
My shaking hands reached out for his cheeks. They were ice-cold. His lips were blue, and blood from the deep cut on his neck had already dried up. His clothes, clean and smelling of him that morning, was now soaked in blood and dirt.
I took his hand and pressed it to my right cheek.
“You promised,” I whispered.
I let his hand go and it fell lifelessly on my knees.
Tears were streaming down my face. Salty dew stung the cuts on my cheeks.
I could barely breathe. It felt like an invisible hand was choking the life out of me.
My heart was broken, torn apart by death.
My brain refused to comprehend it. Refused to accept it.
I wanted to wake up. I wanted him to wake up.
For this nightmare to end. I wanted to wake up and see it was all okay.
Because good people shouldn’t die. People in love shouldn’t die. What kind of world allows evil to win?
I could feel my body turning into one big bleeding open wound. I felt physically sick. I couldn’t calm down, couldn’t control myself anymore. I was ripped apart, my bloody shreds thrown back together haphazardly with no intent to ever let me heal.
I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed, splitting my ears and wearing my vocal cords out. Screamed until there was no air left in my lungs. Time stood still, and I was frozen with it.
When I stopped, I realized there was no relief.
That it still hurt just as much. It hurt so bad I though the pain would devour me, erase me from this world.
This deep, invisible wound on my body would never close, I could feel it.
It would never heal. It would turn into a soaring, festering wound bleeding more and more day after day.
I grabbed his hand and stared at his face, not moving an inch.
It felt like my mind and all my emotions got turned off.
I was no longer thinking or feeling. All felt quiet and hollow.
I wanted to stay in his stillness until his body slowly disintegrated and the nature swallowed his remains once and for all.