I hadn't even meant to do it. It had happened all of a sudden, and for some reason…it felt like I had wanted it to happen…
Things had started in my hometown, Skingrad. The gang and I – the gang being made mostly of pre-teen street rats like myself – had just gotten away from the castle guards. Throwing apples at old, reclusive Janus Hassildor's window was, and always has been, frowned upon; yet we couldn't resist.
Rain pelted down on our heads, matting my mess of dark-greenish black hair so that it almost covered my near-scarlet orange eyes. The moistness felt good against my pale skin, the skin which hardly ever got to see sunlight. My eyes drifted to the ground as a stray cat slinked over to me. Although its fur was soaked, it began to purr at my presence.
For the first time since I could remember, a smile found the way onto my face. Such a refreshing feeling, to feel happiness. Once in a lifetime, it seemed.
So, I picked up the cat, and pressed it against my chest; even though the thing was cold, it felt so warm on my body. I set it down, and grabbed for one of my oranges. Holding it up to the cat's face, it meowed rather loudly. One of the kids in the gang, Jiko, said, "Put that down; who knows what kind of disease it could be carrying. Besides, what would Miranda think?"
Miranda – my sweetheart, my forever. The most beautiful Imperial you'd ever laid eyes on. Though the fair maiden was only 12, albeit that being a year older than myself, you could see the beauty radiating from her. She had long golden locks that made everyone in the gang stop and stare whenever she graced us with her presence; mostly it was to see me. Although I was no prize, she liked me. For what, I can't exactly put my finger on.
Anyway, I tossed the orange for the cat…Unfortunately, it collided with a man in a robe. He twitched at the contact, and turned my direction. There was a skeletal hand on his robe, and a midnight black hood hid his face. Breath coming from the dark, mysterious depths swirled in a misty blue cloud in the air in front of him.
"I-I'm sorry," I mustered. My entire body was shaking, but I was able to relax a bit when whoever it was turned away from me. Being such an expert sneak, I crept closer to see if I could listen to what he was saying to the black-clad person next to him.
"The child annoyed me…" the man hissed. "I see no reason why I can't just go end its pitiful life right now? By the looks of things, I'd be doing it a favor." His words made me tense up, especially the part where he referred to me as an "it," as though I wasn't even an Imperial. Part of me wanted to leap out at him, but the sane part got the better of me; the mere sight of his body turned to me, when I couldn't even see his face, had frightened me beyond words.
So, I continued listening in on their conversation.
"Really, I thought you were at least nobler than this. Killing an enemy or contract is one thing, but a poor, defenseless child…! That's madness that I'll bet not even Sithis could describe accurately!" At least this one had a good head on their shoulders. Although it was a whisper, I could make out the feminine quality of the woman's voice.
"Besides, we have more important things to tend to, like the Mysterium Xarxes."
"Sherry, who the hell cares about the Mythic Dawn? They were over when Dagon was killed by the Hero of Cyrodiil…Hah! Some hero! I heard he took the Daedric Throne for himself. Shows how much of a greedy bastard an Argonian can be…"
"For the love of Sithis, can you hear yourself?! Why, if Kivana heard that…! You'd be this damn close to breaking one of the Tenets!"
There was a sigh from the man, who waved a hand. "Fine, Sherry. You win. Let's go find this wonderful 4th volume, and then we can prance with the ponies in Fairyland!"
"Would you at least try to take this seriously?!"
"NO!" Then, he turned my direction. It was almost as if he'd seen me, because the hood moved slightly. "I have better things to do…"
That was all I needed to hear; I was convinced he was after me. Whether this "Sherry" protested or didn't, he wanted to see my blood spilt. And by the Nine, I was NOT going to give him that chance. Frantically, I got to my feet, my bare feet, and ran away; sneaking didn't matter anymore.
The "uniform" of our gang – no matter how much of a gang it was or wasn't – was a leather shirt and long leather pants. You wanted anything else, you got it yourself. For example, I had stolen an eye patch…like I ever wore it. Mostly, it was there for a bit of decoration on my bleak, unoriginal figure. Now, I wished I had brought it; anything I could use to create some kind of Chameleon potion. Believe it or not, I had a certain talent for alchemy. I just kept the mortar and ingredients at the hideout…Probably the same place I had left the eye patch.
It didn't come of any consequence that I didn't hear footsteps behind me; perhaps he was using a potion of Feather, or had a natural ability to glide. Nothing made sense at the moment except for the fact that I needed to get the hell out of Skingrad.
Passing by a table set up by a beggar, I spotted a dagger. It may have been made of iron, a quick analysis I did, but anything to give me a little more time. Still sprinting, I shifted to the side and snatched it up. There may have been a "Hey!", but I couldn't tell for sure. My mind was fixated on escaping with my life intact. As weird as it sounded, contracting Porphyric Hemophilia would be a better situation than running from a bloodthirsty, homicidal maniac. I deposited the dagger in the back of my pants where I could get to it without someone in front of me seeing.
Turning another corner, a corner which seemed like it popped up ahead of my vision every single time I wanted to change direction, I nearly ran into someone. Thank the Nine I tripped over a rock, or I would've bowled the person over.
Colliding with cobblestone isn't the best feeling in the world. In fact, it really, really hurts. Fortunately, I caught the person's leg, dragged whoever it was down with me, and let my face fall on their thigh.
"Thanks a bunch for coming down," I drearily mumbled. Apparently, my flight from the robed man had fatally impacted my already depressing social skills. My antisocial nature complemented my appearance, or at least, it had…at a point in time before robed people and intended murder. Now what I looked like was most likely a kind of utopia when it was compared to my people skills.
Looking up, I noticed I had rammed into Jiko. The 14-year-old had a dumbfounded look on his face. Part of it was slightly shocked, as though he had seen a lich, then watched it disappear into thin air as it licked its lips…Damn. Too much, just about everything, reminded me of the cloaked man who was pursuing me. The other feeling on Jiko's face was complete and total confusion, like the lich had come back in drag, dancing the salsa.
"W-what are you doing here?" he asked. He must've been quite bewildered, since it was all he appeared was able to get out of his gullet. I had to have had the same look on my face, since a smile crept along his. "You don't know, either, eh?" Getting up, he brushed off the leather pants. Extending a hand, he helped me up.
"I know why I'm zigzagging through the streets like a retard! It's because…" What the hell was I making myself look like an idiot for? "I must be freakin' paranoid…" My voice became nearly incoherent because I swore I had heard the rustle of a black robe. Yup, I was paranoid. Yet just to be on the safe side…
"Oh my God! We've gotta get outta here now!" I screeched and made a break for nowhere in particular. I didn't really care if Jiko bothered to follow, since I was concerned about my own skin and blood. Glancing back for a brief moment, I saw Jiko behind me, still a bit puzzled about what was going on. I could clearly see the sweat and perspiration forming on his brow, since he was literally having to sprint to keep up with me in this frenzied state. For me, however, it was much worse. Like running a marathon with no end, knowing that if you stop for even a few seconds, a man in a black, skeleton-handy robe will drop down from the clouds and cut you through the heart and use your remains for some kind of sick experiment…Damn, why couldn't I stop thinking about the cloaked man when I was nearly berserk with fear? Was there some kind of divine force slithering about inside my conscience, whispering things like, "Robe! Skeleton! Don't stop thinking about the guy who wants to make you into sashimi!"
We were nearly out of Skingrad when Jiko yelled to me, "Stop! We have to catch our breath!" It was amazing that he had kept up all this way, running nonstop. It was now, when I came to a halt, that I noticed my lungs and sides ached. A burning sensation, something like a mutated form of hellfire, burned in them. Was the angel of freaking death inside my body roasting chestnuts? Butterflies swarmed inside my stomach, and I leaned over to vomit. Immediately, vultures flew down to eat it up instantly…It made me nearly puke again. How they could devour someone's almost digested food without a crow of dissatisfaction? The vultures, though, confirmed to me that we were just about out of town.
Jiko sat with an arm on his knee, leaned up against a small rock wall. His face was crimson, like the feathers of an ibis, and his heaving chest told me, in each and every churn, that he had run on pure willpower…or maybe a Potion of Agility. I really didn't know which. Parts of his shirt were stained with sweat, and his forehead was gleaming, even in the partial darkness of the area we had decided to take a momentary reprieve in. I wondered what I looked like…most likely as though I belonged in a psychopathic ward with no way to harm myself, wanting each and every day to escape and see the sunlight again. Yeah, that was probably where I was headed if I let this senseless paranoia about the robed man continue. After all, there was no sign of him, and there hadn't been since I had fled from him and that "Sherry." For all intents and purposes, I was safe.
It was then that Jiko came over to me. There was a darkness in his face. I knew it was there, but its exact origin and task I couldn't perceive nor pinpoint. Tiresome as it was, since I was 100 exhausted, I asked, "What are you doing?" My long black-green hair fell into my right eye, revealing more sweat on me and showing that the ragamuffin-like mat of locks could still move with so many knots tied in it from just running for my life.
Jiko smiled and knelt down beside me. Then, his eyes shrank. He came down on me full-force, taking advantage of my fatigue and weariness. Easily, he ripped most of my shirt off and grabbed one of my arms. With no resistance, he shoved me flat on the ground, left hand he clutched behind my head. Taking a piece of my shirt, he tied it around my mouth. Now I couldn't cry out for help…but it wasn't like anyone in a black robe who had been following me would swoop down and play the hero.
He proceeded to flip me over. Still, I was too tired to even try to fight back, though it would've been futile anyway. I heard him rip more of what had been my shirt, though I couldn't see on account of my head was being pressed down hard on the dirt and fragments of limestone on the road nearly out of Skingrad. Suddenly, both of my arms were pulled together, and he tied them together with little to no effort involved. Now I couldn't move, except for my legs…which were jelly because of the distance I'd scampered across.
Now Jiko flipped me back over, so I could his salmon-colored tongue lap the air around me before he bent down and began to suck on my chest. If he didn't suck, he licked like a maniac. He seemed to concentrate a great deal on my nipples, and what a sick creature he turned out to be. By the look on his face, I could tell he was fully enjoying himself and his disgusting actions.
It seemed that it couldn't get any worse. My stamina was coming back to me, but it still was an eternity away from being enough to escape. Jiko dug his hands down deep into my pants, felt around for a minute or so, then ripped them apart from inside. Once again his mouth came, sucking like a soul gem by a spirit.
When it seemed he had had enough of that, he flipped me back over. I could distinctly hear the sound of his own pants coming off. A tear flitted from my left eye, the one not concealed by my monstrous hair. But I was defenseless; there was nothing I could do. The tear symbolized my own weakness, insecurity, and inability to stop things from happening that shouldn't happen.
After a few minutes, Jiko began to slow down, and I don't think he was really paying attention to reality…like I was. More importantly, I was paying attention to people in black robes that had homicidal tendencies. But suddenly, I remembered the dagger that was probably lying by my feet. Giving tender attention to not making any unnecessary moves, I slid my bound hands back, and thank the Nine! I grasped the weapon's hilt.
I waited no longer. Thrusting the weapon in the direction of what I thought was Jiko, all I did was pray. The boy's breathing stopped, and I was able to roll over.
Jiko's eyes had misted over, and his "grinning-like-an-idiot" expression had been frozen on his face in death. My dagger stuck out of his side, and blood was cascading from the mortal wound. Although the screech couldn't be heard from underneath my gag, I pushed away from the cadaver. I backed up to the opposite stone wall, breathing heavily. Had I just killed someone?
"Amazing…" A voice entered my ears as someone appeared in my vision. For a minute he knelt over the corpse that was Jiko. "Simply amazing…" Then he turned my direction.
The darkness that had entered with the man had obscured my vision of him. But when he looked my way, it was all too clear who he was.
The robed man was here.