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I padded my way through bush, ignoring the stabbing of sticks and stones as I stumbled my way through. I needed to find a road at least, especially if I had any chance at all of getting help.
Looking up from my picking of nature, I stopped moving when I heard waves crashing against the sand. London didn’t have any beaches with surf big enough to hear. Moving stray branches away from my face, I stepped through a clearing and watched as the path went from dirty grass to sand. The ocean was blue. So blue it almost reminded me of the sky, and the sand was so white it burned my retinas.
I squinted, covering half of my face with my hand. It almost felt surreal. This place couldn’t be real. Maybe I was dreaming? I held my breath and slapped myself against my cheek. Slowly peeling my eyes open, expecting to see my bedroom, I was still here, standing on a sandy beach with water so blue it was blinding.
Sighing, I fell to the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest to watch the waves curl and crash. Curl and crash. Something like this had never happened to me. Nothing this interesting, at least.
“Are you lost?” A woman’s voice came from behind me, and I jumped to my feet, startled. She had long brown hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were almost the color of the ocean, but maybe green, and she had two little beauty spots on her cheek and below her eye that stood out.
“I think so…” I frowned before looking back at the stranger. “Can you help me?”
She was older yet still looked young.
“How did you get here, child?” she asked, taking a tentative step closer while remaining far enough away that she had time to react if I decided to do anything stupid.
It was ridiculous. I couldn’t hurt anyone, much less a defenseless woman.
“I don’t know.” I folded my arms in front of me, kicking the sand over my own feet. “I can’t remember. Is that weird?” I asked her hopefully, blinking up at the woman.
I’d decided she was beautiful. The kind of beauty that made you feel safe. Or maybe I didn’t know enough about safety.
Gunshots fired out, and I dropped to the sand, ducking from flying bullets.
“Shit,” the woman cursed before dropping down beside me and bringing her hands to my cheeks. “You need to run, child. You shouldn’t be here. It’s—”
Shadowy figures emerged from the forest behind her, and dread filled me. They wore black robes with hoods that covered their faces and red ties around their waists. She followed my eyes, looking over her shoulder before resting back on me.
“Run!”
I pushed off the ground and tumbled over, landing face-first on the sand. Metallic liquid filled my mouth as a hand grabbed me from the back of my neck, yanking me to my feet. I fought against whoever it was, swinging blindly to the back of me, but it was no use. The circle of shadows closed in around me, and I could no longer see the woman.
“What do you want?” I screamed so loud I was sure it echoed.
They never spoke.
They simply carried me away like I weighed nothing. It wasn’t until we hit the edge of the forest that I heard the faint thrum of a chant. I couldn’t make out the words. What—something pinched my neck, and everything slowly blurred before finally—
I stretch my arms wide against the mattress, only when my hand lands on the spot Malyk was the night before, it’s cold. Dammit. I must have fallen asleep while he was telling his story.
Swinging my legs over the edge, I grab my phone. I should probably check my notifications more often, but since Mom, I can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than distractions.
I tap on a new group chat message and see Malyk, Sparrow, and Dion all in there.
Who made this?
I type out my question before opening the other notifications. I see the unknown number flash over the top of my phone and quickly look up to the bedroom door, making sure no one is there. I rush over and close it before opening the message.
They hurt me.
They kept hurting me.
Why? Why was he doing this to me? Why did it feel good sometimes? I hated the way my body responded. A traitor, a liar—I just wanted death to come.
Malyk
Iwatch him like one would a lion. There is something about the way people move. Cocky. Entitled. Bulletproof. It annoys me. It always has. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me. But I watch him, eager. I want to know what he looks like, but I’m not sure it will make me stop if I do know. He continues to jog down the beach path. Who the fuck runs at this time? It’s four in the morning. The urges stayed away for as long as they could, but then she fell asleep, and I found myself bored during the time I needed her the most.
I slide down the seat of my car, watching as he runs back and forth, back and forward. Sprints. Why the fuck would anyone do sprints at four a.m.?
