"Ana…. Anarchy! Oh god please wake up!" a deep voice said in a worried panic. The voice was familiar, and yet it sounded so far away. I stirred, struggling to open my eyes. I felt so dizzy, and I feared that I would vomit from the lightheadedness. I groaned softly to signal that I was awake. I felt myself being lifted upright and something soft being pressed against my nose.

"Oh, fuck! Ana… Anarchy please wake up…. This is all my fault…" I recognized his voice. It was Tim. I open my eyes, and looked up at Tim. He was pale and shaking as he held a handkerchief to my nose. He sighed in relief and gently moved the handkerchief away. I saw that there was blood on it.

"Wh-what happened?" I croaked, my throat feeling surprisingly raw, as if I had been screaming.

"It was that thing… I was walking past the park going home from the store, when I saw you sitting on the swing. I was about to call out to you when I saw it standing behind you. It wasn't moving, and you didn't seem to notice it. But the second you did, you looked like you were about to faint. So I ran to get you out of there. I called out to you, but it was like you had been petrified. Then you fainted. I managed to reach you in time to catch you and carry you away from the park. I think we've lost it for now. And I've been trying to rouse you for the last, I dunno, fifteen minutes." He took a deep breath. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. Damn, he looked as bad as I felt. I looked around at our surroundings and instantly started to panic; we were in the woods.

"Why are we here?!" I said, my breathing becoming rapid to keep up with the hard thrumming of my heartbeat. He shushed me and rubbed my back soothingly.

"Ana, Ana calm down. We aren't in the woods. We're still in the park." He said softly. I looked up at him, confused.

"What?" I looked around again. I saw the trees, but then I saw the soft orange glow of the street lights. You couldn't see the street lights from the woods, only the weird energy efficient soft blue glow lights. I took another deep breath, calming my panicked heartbeat. I stood up shakily.

"Why…?" I said softly, my breath hitched by a sob.

"What does it want from me…?" I looked at Tim. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then sighed.

"I don't know… let me take you home Ana." He grabbed my arm gently and lead me out of the park.

)0(0)0(0)0(0)0(

"Anarchy Christine Vahn, what took you so long to get home?!" Raoul exclaimed as I stepped through the door. I winced as his raised voice, still feeling a bit on edge after what happened.

"What do you mean?" I said, my voice cracking a bit.

"IT IS ONE IN THE MORNING!" He shouted, his face now red, and a vein throbbing on his temple. He was really piss. Shit.

"Fuck…. I'm sorry Raoul-"

"DO YOU KNOW HOW CLOSE I WAS TO CALLING THE POLICE?!" he shouted, cutting me off.

"I said I was sorry!"
"'SORRY' DOESN'T CUT IT ANA!" he took a deep breath.

"Where were you?" his voice was deathly calm.

"Working." I deadpanned, my patience growing short due to my already frayed nerves.

"Don't lie to me Anarchy. When I had called you, you were already on your way home. Where were you?"

"I was attacked by some faceless demon thingy and had been unconscious in the park for a few hours" I said straight out. Raoul's face started to turn red again.

"So you just passed out from smoking?! Goddammit Ana! You know better than that! I dont understand how you can be so stupid!"

"Fuck you Raoul! I'm not stupid!" I shoved him with my shoulder and stormed into my room, ignoring him and his yelling as I slammed and locked my door behind me.

I threw my bag across the room and slid my back against the door, sitting on the floor. I rocked back and forth for a while, fighting back the sobs that threatened to escape. I was so tired. That fucking thing in the park… it wasn't a dream or a hallucination. Tim saw it too. He- he saved me from it. I don't know how he did it either. I just can't believe it. It's real. And its following me.

I stood up, wincing at the dull ache in my leg. I grabbed my amp and plugged it in, being mindful of its shitty damaged wire. I opened my window and laced the amp onto the fire escape. I then grabbed my shiny black Fender Stratocaster and climbed out onto my balcony. I plugged it into my amp and flipped it on. I adjusted the strap, making it more comfortable to wear and sat on the rail, putting up my good leg to support myself. I strummed it a few times, and quickly tuned my underused Fender with professional precision. I then blasted my amp, not caring about the neighbors and started playing one of my most favorite guitar solos. It was from an old movie called The Crow. I closed my eyes and let my fingers play the haunting and chilling melody, letting my frustration and sadness flow into the cords. I played the first part of the solo in a sort of seamless loop, entranced by the way the cords sounded; almost like a tragically beautiful operetta sung by a desolate and downtrodden musician crying out their frustrations and sadness into the night.

I then allowed myself to play the full solo after some time. I poured my anger and frustration into the cords, my fingers flying across the bar, speeding up until I hit the climax of the solo. I then slammed on my vibrato bridge, allowing the sound to vibe and distort while I screamed. I screamed out of frustration, anger and fear. I screamed until my voice cracked. I coughed hard and sobbed, dropping my hands and accidentally making hideous notes sound from my amp.

I took in deep breaths after a few minutes and adjusted my Stratocaster. It had belonged to my dad once upon a time. He was a great musician in his youth, and continues to be a great countertenor on Broadway. My mother was a soprano, and they both had trained me into singing classically, as I had dreamed of being a musician like my parents. I swallowed, feeling guilty for having screamed like that. Straining my vocal cords like that would do nothing for me… but it did make me feel better. I began to strum again, playing the chords to Cry, Little Sister, another favorite from an old-school movie. I half hummed/ half sung the song, filling the quiet night with my music that I don't have the guts to sing out otherwise.

"Cryyyy, Little sisterrr…

Cooooome to your Brother-

Unchaiin me, sister-"

"…Fear…" I stopped playing. That sounded like it was breathed right into my ear. I looked around and saw no one. I swallowed the dry feeling in my throat. I must've imagined it. After all, the back-up chorus to that last line was "Thou shall not fear". Maybe I was just thinking it. I shook my head and started to play a different song; another solo from Dethklok this time. I played the strife solo, caressing the bar as I did. I kept my eyes half closed, admiring the echo the chords made in the silent night. I then did a transition, melding the strife solo with the Crow solo and began playing the latter. Just as I hit the vibrato bridge again, my amp began to distort unpleasantly, and static resounded from it. I unplugged my guitar, and the second I did the amp blew out.

"Mother fuck!" I shouted, kicking the amp to put out the small fire that had started. I managed to put it out in a few short stomps, then promptly ripped out the power cord and threw it over the rail and into the alley garbage can. I sighed, wishing I had gotten home earlier to hound Korri for the three hundred bones. Fuck my life, and fuck that faceless thing that was in the park. I climbed back in through the window, ready to light up one last joint and turn in for the night.