Chapter Three.
'What was she even doing there?' Jonathon asked himself. 'I nearly killed her when she took the arm away from me.' Jonathon bit himself to stop his thinking of what he might've done.
He imagined grabbing her and breaking her arm.
He imagined taking the knife and cutting her leg.
He imagined biting into her neck.
'NO!' Jonathon yelled in his head. He bit his hand to stop it from trembling with excitement.
'She looked so lonely, and of all the luck in the world to have seen me twice, murdering poor humans, and lived,' Jonathon took his hand and placed it on his chin.
"I found you!" Jonathon turned.
'Shit,' he thought, 'What can I do now?' He leaned toward the crate that he was standing by, "So you did," Jonathon smiled dangerously.
"This time, I'll kill you, bastard," a black-haired, green-eyed boy stood at the door of the cabin. He slid a dagger out of his pocket. "You won't escape me!" he snarled.
"On the contrary," Jonathon smirked, "You might not escape me, but I am too tired to try to fight you, so..." he shot right at the boy, spun his leg to kick him, then leaned toward the door and was gone.
The boy was knocked toward the other side of the door and cracked his arm. 'Damn it!' he cursed at himself, 'I HAVE to get him! But... how?' He took his uninjured arm, curled his fingers into a fist, and slammed his hand on the wall.
