Chapter 4 #2
But maybe I do... maybe that kind of love really is out there searching for someone like me. And if it is? I'll make sure I'm open to it. Because it's too precious to let slip away.
Three hours. It’s been three hours and I’m still walking.
I've been wandering aimlessly for blocks now, taking detours I don't need, glancing at every stranger like they might be the one. Practically hunting the streets like some love-struck teenager, hoping the universe will drop my soulmate right in front of me.
As if.
Rolling my eyes, I scoff at the joy brimming in my chest, the expectation that this is it. That it’s really going to happen when I know I’m just setting myself up for disappointment.
He’s not just going to fall out of the sky and sweep me off my feet. But no matter how much I try to kill it, the hope stays there, like a light refusing to go out.
I can't stop noticing the couples everywhere—holding hands, sharing inside jokes, that easy intimacy I've always craved. And I want that so badly.
Of course I’ve thought of putting myself out there again. But trusting someone, knowing I could end up brokenhearted once again, is hard to come to terms with.
I don't want to make another mistake. I don't want to waste years of my life with someone who doesn't respect me and won't devote themselves to me.
But I'm not going to find that here tonight. Or maybe at all.
The negative thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I slump forward. I should just give up and go home to lick my wounds. Maybe curl up on the couch with the leftover Thai food in my fridge, and binge watch a show. Anything to keep my mind quiet.
I take the subway to my stop then start the familiar walk home, pulling my jacket tighter against the late-night chill.
The streets are busier than usual for a Thursday night, groups of people heading to bars and restaurants. But as I get closer to my neighborhood, the crowds thin out, and I can hear a group of guys getting loud outside the bodega—shouting, laughing, breaking glass.
No doubt they're drunk.
Not wanting any trouble, my options are to walk past them and deal with whatever comments or attention that might bring or cut through the narrow alley behind the buildings that comes out on the next street over, a block from my apartment.
I peer down the alley. It's quiet, empty. My gut clenches at the thought of using it, but no one enters or exits. I don't want to take it, but it seems like the safest choice.
With a sigh, I turn into the alley. But after a third of the way through, something begins to feel... wrong.
The alley is darker than I first realized. I scan the buildings and doors but nothing's changed. I try to listen harder, beyond the sounds of water dropping and rats scurrying through littered trash.
Footsteps.
They're heavy, slightly rushed. A man.
It’s just another person taking the same shortcut. Don’t worry.
But when I slow down, they slow down. When I speed up, they match my pace.
I clutch my purse tighter, my heart thundering. It's okay. You're almost there.
"Hey, Red."
The voice is close. Too close.
I spin around and there's a man maybe ten feet behind me. His eyes bloodshot and unfocused, like he's on something. And then he grins. "What's a pretty thing like you doing walking alone, Red?"
I back away, fumbling in my bag for my phone. "Leave me alone."
"Can't do that." He steps closer, and now I can smell him—unwashed skin and something chemical that makes my nose burn.
I take a slow, careful, step back, trying to put some distance between us.
"Aw, now. Don't be like that. I'm just looking for some company." He takes another step, closing the distance. "And whatever you got in that purse."
Shit!
Run.
I turn and sprint toward my exit. I have to get there. I have to get home. The cops don't come to this side of town, and even if they did, it would take them hours to get here.
But even though I'm running at full speed, and he's clearly on drugs, he's somehow faster.
He manages to grab my arm and yank me backward so hard I stumble into a wall.
I move to react, to shove him away, but that's when I see it—the glint of a knife.
He snickers. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Give me everything you have."
My gaze narrows in on that single piece of metal. Then I stare into his eyes but there's nothing. No humanity, no soul. It's completely gone.
I should hand it over, but there’s no guarantee he’ll let me go. And I’ve had so much taken from me. I refuse to let it ever happen again.
I punch him in the gut as hard as I can.
"You bitch!" He backhands me, and pain explodes in my skull.
I taste blood, but I won't go down.
"You're gonna pay for that."
"Fuck you," I spit, some of my blood getting his eyes.
He rears back and I rake my fingernails over his face.
“Fuck,” he shouts and I try to move around him, but he slams me against the brick wall so hard, all the air rushes out of my lungs.
He tries to grab my throat, but I manage to yank his hand away, snapping my necklace in the process.
Then he punches my side, and I scream.
His eyes widen.
He curses.
And when I press my hands to the wound, and find them covered in blood, I realize it wasn't his fist…
He stabbed me.
He yanks the knife out and my vision dots as white-hot pain radiates through my entire body.
I press my shaking hands to the wound, but blood pours between my fingers.
He's saying something but it's all muffled. Is he cursing? Mumbling? He starts pulling at his hair like a mad man. Then the world tilts and I crash onto the floor.
It hurts. It hurts so much. I want to ask him to help me. I'm willing to do anything to survive, but I can't get the words out. Can't make my mouth open and close.
The world begins to fade, and the harder I try to see, the blurrier it becomes.
Then reality sets in.
I'm going to die here. Alone.
I want to scream. To cry. To shout at someone, anyone, God—I don't care. My life has been so unfair, so unjust, and this is what I get? Stabbed in an alley where the rats are likely to eat my body before the cops find me?
Why?
Why is this happening to me?
The world around me suddenly explodes.
The fuck?
I force myself to focus on the thunderous sound, but I can't see whatever it is. It's too high in the sky. But I can hear its massive wings. So loud, a single flap makes my ears ring.
Adrenaline pumps harder through my veins and I try, with no avail, to sit up.
The man in front of me is focused on it too.
Come on. Come on! Please! This might be my only chance to escape!
But it's no use. I've lost too much blood. And the sudden spike of adrenaline makes me crash even harder.
That's the only way I can explain my hallucination—the blurry man in front of me is lifted off the ground, by a massive, gray-skinned humanoid creature with wings.
The creature has my attacker by the throat, while he screams and screams, his feet dangling off the ground as he kicks at the creature, but it never lets him go.
"Did you think," the creature says, his voice low and masculine, filled with rage, "that you could touch what's mine?"
The creature's voice makes me realize this is real. That what's standing in front of me—a living breathing gargoyle-esque creature—actually exists.
"Mine!" the creature shouts with such possessiveness, such devotion, that for a moment I wish I could be the thing that belonged to him. That he was here to save me.
There's a strange crunch, the man's head snapping in an awkward angle, dangling in a way it should not be. Bile rises to my throat as the creature tosses the man's limp body as if he were weightless, worthless.
Oh God. Oh God, he just—
The creature lands and his leathery wings fold against his back. Then he takes his first step towards me.
I expect every instinct in my body to scream for me to run away, but there's nothing.
I should be afraid of him, terrified, but the feeling's missing. Instead, I wish I could reach out to this... thing, this beast that just murdered a human being, to help me. Because some weird part of my brain feels safe with him.
He leans down, scooping me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. Then he cradles my head against his chest, and it feels so... good? Natural? As if we've done this a million times before.
I groan softly.
His body is firm like stone, yet warm to the touch. His heartbeat pounds in my ears; the sound oddly soothing, and I find myself turning into it.
Maybe it's crazy, maybe I've lost too much blood, but being embraced by him in my last moments feels... peaceful.
"My precious dawn," he says, his voice soft and sad, filled with yearning I don't understand. Nothing like when he spoke to the man. He runs his hand through my dirty hair, gently removing the strands stuck to my cheek. "I've been searching for you for so long."
Searching? I wish I could ask that and a million other questions. But I'll never get the chance. My vision darkens, my consciousness fading. There's nothing he can do for me, but I hope he'll stay with me until I'm gone.
I manage to shift my hand just slightly.
He's so focused on me that he notices, and he takes it in his own carefully, as if I'll break. "Let me help you, please.” He drops a sweet kiss to my wrist before placing it on his chest, right over his heart. “Because if you leave now, I won't be far behind."
His words don't make sense, but I can hear the desperation in his voice, the longing, as if my life, my very existence is worth everything to him. And even though I don’t know what it is he needs from me, I know I want to survive. For me, and oddly, for him too.
I tap on his chest, pleading to any god, any deity, anyone at all, that he'll understand what I'm saying.
Please. Save me. I don't want to die.
He leans down, his long dark hair dangling around my face like a curtain separating me from the dirty alley, and for a moment I'm relieved—until I feel the sharp press of his fangs in my neck.
I open my mouth to gasp as liquid fire burns through my veins. But once the shock fades, I feel... lost. As if I'm floating in a candy-colored haze, drifting endlessly among the stars.
"Mine," he whispers, "You're finally mine."
And then I slip into the deep dark black where there's nothing else at all.