Page 23 of Sinful Lord

Crying.

The man with the gun, the driver of the overturned van, has started to openly weep. I watch in horror as his gun wavers.

“Who… who are you?” he whimpers into the darkness ahead.

My eyes follow his until we’re both staring at a black wall.

Nothing moves.

Then, a piece of the darkness shift. A gasp rips from my throat as a massive figure detaches from the black wall.

“No… stop…” the driver begs. Once more, he tries to aim his weapon, but he can’t manage to get a straight shot off.

His muzzle flashes twice before the gun drops from his hands. The shadow advances, completely unphased, slowly shedding the darkness as it’s illuminated by the jeep's thinly cut headlights.

My already addled brain short-circuits. I can’t get a good look. The night blurs in and out of focus. It’s hard to tell if it’s a trick of the light, an effect of the pill forced down my throat, or just a hard, cold reality, but what I see walking toward the injured driver hardly seems human.

“… What the hell?” I hear myself rasp.

A demon, half-eaten by darkness looms over the injured gunner. Without mercy, it reaches out and grabs him by the throat.

Someone says something, but I can’t hear what. The ringing hasn’t returned to my ears, but my heart is pounding so loudly that nothing else is audible.

That is until the driver utters his final words. “Please… I—”

That’s all he gets out before his neck is snapped.

The demon releases the dead man’s limp body. The second it hits the ground, I come to.

What the hell am I doing?

Fear rips through my body as I turn around and start to run. But no matter how scared I am, I’ve still been drugged. It’s like pushing through water. I might as well be scrambling through a dark seabed… or a living nightmare.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

My legs feel numb, and my body feels both weightless and so heavy it’s nearly impossible to move—yet, somehow, I trudge forward.

I even manage to make it down the street and turn a corner before I slip. My fall is softened slightly by the snow, but I don’t feel anything anyway—only fear lives in my body right now.

Fighting through it all, I frantically crawl forward. My mouth opens to scream, but nothing comes out, at least nothing that I can hear.

I blink and suddenly I’m back on my feet and further down the street. But I don’t know where I am or where I’m running to. Up ahead, there’s nothing but empty roads and sidewalks. Parts of Berlin become ghost towns at night. I must be in one of the quiet neighborhoods. It’s the only explanation.

My only hope is to get to a part of town where I can call for help. My only hope is to keep running.

So, that’s what I do. Stumbling around a corner, I push myself through the nightmare until I spot a bridge ahead.

Hope.

If I can just get over the river, I might be able to find people on the other side. Safety.

But the harder I push myself, the further away the bridge seems to get. Slowly, my numbness begins to wear off. My lungs burn. My muscles ache. But my head remains hazy. My eyelids are as heavy as ever.

Part of me just wants to give in. Slink against a building and let myself fall into a deep sleep.

Maybe this has all happened in my mind. Maybe I’m not even being chased…

Suddenly, my shoulder catches a lamppost and I’m flung around. A shock of pain rips through me. I whimper and stumble against the nearest surface, a dark shop window. My back rests against the glass. Swirls of smoky breath cloud my sight.