I pushed her against the wall, breath ragged. Gasping for air she creases my face, brushing my snow white hair out of my eyes. Her deep purple irises peering into me. She pushes back trying to give herself room. I grab her wrist and shove her against the wall, "D-Danny? Come on, stop."
No response.
Taller than her, I look down and lick my lips. My aura bright and blinding. Her hands push against my chest, I don't feel it. I smile wide for the crowd that's started to gather, no one getting anywhere close to the ghost boy.
Something had been off about him for the past few weeks, more violent in ghost fights, scary. No more playful quips, he moved straight for the kill, not capture. Ectoplasm littered the streets after a fight, ghosts came less and less and with every brave soul that came through the portal into our world the fight is all the messier. More bloodthirsty than ever before, people stopped watching the fights, they ran in fear that they might be next. That ghosts would no longer be enough.
It seems the day has come.
He looks at her warmly and she visibly relaxes, "Danny you asshole, you had me scared!" She playfully hits his arm. His smiles grows larger and his eyes grow dark, fear rooting into her stomach. "No…" Fangs slide into his mouth as his eyes grow red, illuminating the dark shadows under his eyes.
People mainly to shocked or scared stay frozen in place, anxiety rising in the large group every second that passes. Few call the Fenton's, it's too late to save her now. A african american teen cries out from the crowd trying to make his way threw the crowd.
Red stares at purple, her breath is quick and short. He lunges for her neck, blood spilling through, dripping to the ground she collapses as he tears out her throat. The new winter's snow stained red, people all around scream and scatter leaving the one lone teen that tried to save his friend standing a few yards from the mess. No more air escaped the girl and the ghosts jumpsuit no longer barred any white. The DP symbol dawning his chest the same color of the surrounding snow. The teen falls to his knees, crying, yelling, pleading.
The ghost boy bares no mind to this as he stares at what he has done. The red fades from his eyes as blood spills from his eyes like tears. Forming a knife of ice he holds it to his chest, the teen on the ground looks up just in time to see the ghost boy slide it into his core, ectoplasm mixing with the blood on the snow and pavement. As he fell he whispered, "Never forgive me…"
And the teen was left all alone.