~Clock Strikes One~
"NO!"
A devilish painful shriek came into being, but refused to reveal its owner. Everyone, every normal person would shudder upon the invasion of the sound into their ears. It sounded like the combination of a girl screaming as a car came to take her life away, plus the screeching of the rubber tires as it pleaded to itself to stop. The voice did not cease.
"Why am I left alone? Why won't anyone wait for me?"
It was clearly stated that all the sound and stuff were produced by a rather raged yet saddened being.
"I am forbidden to dirty my hands with the blood of human beings! And to think I'm the ONLY ONE! How am I supposed to be a 'complete' kind of ourselves? I have only twenty-four hours left, or—or the leader would banish me like how he did to my brother!"
All the sudden, the yelling started to fade away, as if thinking of something. Like how a student would shout their triumphant answer after a while of thinking, the voice returned. This time, the fiery roar turned into a cold, frostbiting, quiet yet thundery whisper.
"Well then," It hissed coldly. "Shall I go to their world and make children do the murdering for me instead!"
The clock had just passed its longer hand through number 12 and rested its shorter hand on number 1. It ticks in a lullingly calm sound, making a soft humming lullaby for the owner of the room. Breathing slowly at the corner of the room, eaten away by his dream, a white-haired boy occupied the space provided by the bed. It was the room of Gilbert Beillschmidt.
As it precisely reached 1 o'clock in the night, the clock, a smooth black marble without polish, cracked open and cold air started to emerge from it. The wind blew, although the window was closed tightly. In the flurry of the wind, a woman covered in white cloak stood menacingly.
She walked upon Gilbert, who was deep inside his inner self, and smiled. She concealed one of her treacherous hands, putting the fingers on her lips.
He's the first child to be lured.
She touched the German boy with her delicate fingers, but feeling too much of a secureness, he didn't bother to wake up. She smiled. She took him by the hand.
This time, he woke up with a jolt. Gilbert immediately pulled his hand back, but the woman's grip was just like the grasp of a demon. His eyes widened.
"W-who the hell are you?" He stammered. A bit.
Her smile did not leave her face, but it did move a little. Gilbert shuddered. Even before she could say anything, he knew the lips were trying to convey a story to him. Does it have anything to do with him? He didn't know. The woman let out her voice already.
"Me? It's not any of your business, dear child."
"Don't call me child!" He struggled. "I'm twelve! And in an awesome three days I will turn thirteen—I'm a teen!"
She wouldn't release her grip. It's getting painful and tighter and it hurt Gilbert, but the woman didn't notice. Or maybe she noticed, but took no attention. She stared at Gilbert intently.
"But honey, twelve is still considered to be a kid," her voice sounded like the blizzard taking no mercy in the avalanche, "And... you won't be having your 'awesome three days' to turn into thirteen. Too much hours to spend."
Gilbert raised one of his eyebrows. He didn't understand anything she was saying. He prepared to struggle again, but he felt some kind of tingling feeling on his eyes. It became stronger an stronger, and it felt hot. He felt as if his eyes were burning. He flinched.
"M-my eyes," he rubbed them. "W-what happened?"
The woman gave no answer, but she continued to stare at Gilbert.
Gilbert felt it gradually increase its heat—as if flame was actually put inside his eyeballs. He put his hand over his eyes. Upon this he felt some kind of liquid oozing from his eye sockets. It wouldn't stop flowing—he thought it was tears, maybe just couldn't stand the heat, thus escaped.
But he was wrong.
It reached his mouth.
It wasn't salty.
It was metallic.
He's the first one on my list.
"B-blood?" He yelped, shocked. "What the fuck is happening here?"
"Dear, you have been on my list. And you came out first. You've been marked."
"Get away, bitch!" he barked at the woman, but blood still wouldn't stop flowing. Both of his hands were red now, one severed from the grip of the woman, one stained with the blood from his eyes. But he wouldn't give up easily.
He stole a glance at the alarm clock. It showed one forty-five, surprisingly, although it was cracked open. Awesome. He grabbed the broken shard, and with a hateful manner, he threw it hard onto the woman's face.
Which, caused her to flinch and release him.
The broken clock pierced her forehead, but no blood can be seen. Gilbert shivered at this sight, and what scared him was that it had little effect on her. He backed off, aiming for the door, but the knob was glowing red-hot. He dare not to touch it, so he turned around.
He can see that now, not only the door knob, everything in his room was put on fire.
His breath hitched, but he wouldn't scream anyone's name for help. He recalled the story Old Man Fritz told him, about a boy who wouldn't scream for help when a fox hid inside his shirt. Such bravery that boy possessed that Gilbert also wanted to be just as brave. He held his breath and shook away his fears.
The woman came closer to him. She wiped the blood off Gilbert's face using a handkerchief. Not a single drop seeped into her ghost-white skin. When more blood started to emerge, she pulled her hand back.
He would be the first child I favor the most.
"Why do you have to take me now?" Gilbert coughed from the smoke the flame mass-produced. Ashes started to sore his eyes more. He held his pain, breath, everything that can stop him to get away. "Grandfather Fritz is sick now—he needs someone to take care of him! And Ludwig still needs an awesome big brother to watch over him!"
"Is that," the woman knelt and matched her eye level with Gilbert's, him sitting limply on the floor, "Just an excuse so you can still be alive? Taking care of your family?"
"Of course not!" Gilbert growled. He felt anger exploded inside his mind. "Gramps is not strong enough to watch Ludwig's back although he can take care of himself most of the time, but still, and Ludwig is not capable of helping Gramps out so—"
"No, it's not like I'm not giving any choices," she clicked her tongue. "In fact, I got the idea from the mention of your family. Let's make this fun."
Gilbert stilled.
He would also be the one I hate the most.
"You actually have two."
"Name it."
"Your family's blood, or yours." She lifted Gilbert's chin. He shoved off her face, clearly silenced from the choices he had to make. He couldn't possibly murder his own little brother; he's everything to him since their parent's death. And his grandfather. No way he would kill him. He's like one of the best person in his life. He hung his head down.
He will be first one to suffer all of this.
"What the hell is happening, lady." Gilbert inquired, but not questioned.
"Come." She ignored whatever was spoken by him. She was up to her legs. Holding up a hand towards Gilbert, she smiled again. "You have twelve hours to make your decision."
Not having the answer nor choices he would like to have, he shot out a hand and linked it with the hands belonged to the woman. Gilbert itched to ask where would they go out, but he opted to stay silent. As if reading his mind, the woman patted his head, and chanted something Gilbert did not understand at all. In the matter of seconds, they were teleported to somewhere else.
The place was a very huge cave, but it was pitch black.
Gilbert didn't bother to complain. He let out a sigh of frustration, anger, fear—all blended into a smoothie of emotions. Just then he realized something peculiar.
The clock, stating 01:59, was still alive and attached to her forehead.
A minute later, he saw leaves flying around her, dust joining in, being sucked in the wind she produced.
She disappeared into thin air.
He sighed as the woman finally escaped from his sight. But he heard a faint whispering, so faint that he was almost sure that it was only his feelings.
You're also the one to be dead.
You're the First Child.
As the other clocks out there pointed at two o'clock, Gilbert felt nothing anymore, closed his bloodied eyes, and blacked out.
~Prey Caught: 1/12
~Eyes Taken: 0/12 pair
~TBC
