Alright, it's been over eight weeks since the last chapter. I am really sorry. But I have some good excuses.
In the time I have been absent from the wonderful realm of Fanfics, I have been to England for three weeks, I have written an insanely long thing about Soviet Russia, I have been molested and, of course, this weekend we had a magnitude seven EARTHQUAKE! which had me frozen in my bed.
(In my confusion and fear, I totally forgot to leap out and get under the table and instead just lay there)
However, fear not, here is the next chapter. I have had horrible, horrible writer's block, so forgive me if it is not my normal standard of gobble-de-goop.
Enjoy!
I woke up at the beginning of the dawn, though the light was faint. Isaac's body was behind me, his arm around me, encircling my body in warmth. I sighed. It was Sunday, and everything felt perfect. Mary K. and I were sorting out a school for her. Though I'd told her she could take a break for a couple of weeks if she wanted, she'd been pretty adamant about going, saying that she "wanted things to get back to normal."
I'd frowned and said "MK...things can't get back to the way they used to be."
She'd nodded, "I know, but if I can get back any trace of it, I will. After all this stuff going on, I just want to get back to the familiar, don't you?"
I'd looked at her a little blankly. I'd been pretty sure that none of the familiar was left...
I pondered it again now, as I listened to the rain patter on the windows. There really wasn't anything left. Bree was being so serious all the time, Robbie was, of course, with her on everything...my mom was getting better towards me again, but she still didn't seem motherly, and of course Wicca had taken up so much of the past couple of years that a lot of the original stuff I used to do had been forgotten.
I thought back to things way before Wicca waltzed in. I remembered going ice skating and going to the movies in Redkill, and the parties I occasionally went to. I remember snitching on senior guys with Bree, and then analysing all their actions later at her house whilst drinking countless cups of coffee and stuffing our faces with all manner of junk food, once in the hope that I might actually gain a bit of cleavage. I remembered going to church with my family and then going to Widow's Diner afterwards...I could still do that, couldn't I? It was a Sunday; Isaac was probably going to go anyway.
The man in question moved in his sleep behind me. I rolled over to face him, trying not to disrupt his comforting arm. I looked at his face. The coarse features were still there, including the short scar on his left cheek, which I still hadn't asked him about. His skin still looked a little grey, and his lips were settled in a bit of a scowl, but sleep seemed to soften the edges of his rigid face, his messy hair made him look a little younger. I reached out to stroke his cheek. As soon as my fingertip touched his smooth cheekbone his eyelids flew open and his black eyes gave the ugliest, scariest look I'd ever seen, it was like a dagger driving straight into my body. My hand pulled back in fright. But in a blink the look was gone, replaced with the normal, blank look he usually has.
"Good morning, Morgan," he said, wrapping both his arms round my waist.
"Morning," I said, breathless, but recovering, from that awful stare.
"How are you?" He asked.
"Fine," I said, "my head's not too bad this morning." He nodded.
"That's good."
"So what church do you usually go to?"
He flicked a piece of hair from my face before answering, "Just one around Red Kill."
I nodded, "Right. When's mass?"
"Now, I think," he said, "we'd better get ready." He slipped out of bed and went to find some clothes. I got up too, tying on my dressing gown.
"I'll go ask MK if she wants to come," I said. I went out into the hall and up the stairs, and then knocked on Mary K's door. "Hey, you up?"
"Yup!" She called from inside, chirpily as ever.
"Do you want to come to mass?" I asked.
"Sure," she said, opening the door. She was already dressed in a skirt and tank top, her wet hair over one shoulder. "Will I look decent enough like this?" She asked.
"Yeah, put a jacket on though," I suggested, "it's raining."
"Of course it is," she said with a grin. "It's so nice to wear a skirt above my ankles! Jeez! It was like back in medieval England."
Ever since she'd gotten back, Mary K had taken great delight in things which I really hadn't noticed. And every time she mentioned how great it was not having burnt porridge for breakfast, or not having to sleep in the same room as anyone else, I felt guilt storm inside me. How could I have forgotten her like I did?
"Oh well, you'll never have to go back," I said for the millionth time, and left her so I could get changed.
We left at eight; Isaac drove with me in the front and Mary K. in the back, eagerly taking in the countryside she'd missed for so long. She reminded me so much of a child, even though I knew that after what she'd been through, she couldn't have been. "So what's your church like?" I asked, watching the windscreen wipers go up and down.
"Oh, it's nice," he said, "I try to be as inconspicuous is possible. When you're a businessman you don't want people to know you. Not at a place like church."
"Right," I said, getting what he meant. We drove along in silence for a while. I realized this was the only day that I could really get to know him, so I decided to ask the basics. "So where do you come from?" I asked. It was rather strange, knowing so little about my husband. I had figured that when I got married I would know my husband inside from out; his quirks, his habits, his likes, his dislikes, his whole ex-girlfriend story, everything. I didn't know Isaac at all well, even though I felt a connection with him.
"Washington D.C." he said, keeping his eyes intently on the road.
"You sound British," I pointed out. What a weird conversation to have with my husband...
"I spent some time over there, sorting out the business," he said.
"Right," I said. He clearly wasn't for sharing right now. Perhaps he was one of those people who hated being talked to when they were trying to drive, though I had the memory of the car journey home. He'd talked a little then. I gave it a mental shrug and decided to leave off. It had been a very late night last night, what with Mary K.'s return and my idiotic use of magick. He seemed to have forgiven me. I hoped he had.
It was about ten more minutes before we entered into a little town called Lauton. It was a little way past Red Kill, as Isaac had said. The chapel was large in comparison to the size of the town. We got out into the pouring rain and Mary K. and I quickly sprinted to the doors, freezing in our skirts. Isaac followed, though he didn't seem bothered by the rain. His hand was held out to catch some as he walked towards us.
We went in to the chapel. It wasn't as nice as St. Mary's, but it was quite pretty, decorated with lots of flowers and there was a scent of vanilla and roses in the air. We arrived just in time, and slid into the last pew. Isaac and Mary K. sat on either side of me. We were almost like a family, I thought.
The organ then let out its long, triumphant sound and we stood to sing 'Hail Redeemer King Divine'. The loud, almost boisterous singing filled me with joy, and then the descant in the last verse sent welcome chills up my spine. Everything was then quiet and peaceful as the priest read from the gospels and rain pattered on the stained glass windows. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed the traditions and routine of going to church.
But then we bowed our heads in prayer , and I tried. I tried to connect with God, with the Church, with everything, but it didn't work. I found myself thinking only of frustration, and praying for no one. Fortunately the prayers ended, and the priest then read from the gospels.
Mary K. shifted next to me when it was time for communion. I let her past me, but I didn't go up myself. Somehow I just couldn't when it wasn't real. Isaac didn't go up, which surprised me. I gave him a questioning look, but his head was bent in prayer.
The service ended shortly after, and we walked outside into the spit. Isaac looked extremely angry. "Isaac?" I asked worriedly, "what is it?"
"Nothing, Morgan, nothing," he told me. He reached into his pocket and brought out some ten dollar notes. "Go and get some food – there's a cafe down the road - I have to go deal with something." With that he walked to his car.
"Jeez, he can be kinda cold sometimes, can't he?" Observed Mary K., watching him leave the car park. I shrugged.
"He's a businessman; he has to put up with a lot." We started walking along the street
She wasn't convinced, "I'm sure he could be nicer if he tried." Fortunately, she caught sight of an outfit in one of the shop windows and dragged me in, all thoughts now turned to the first impression she had to make for her return to Widow's Vale High.
Hunter
Light pressed in on me through the window, and dim and feeble as it was, I couldn't ignore it. My eyes flickered open. I was in a bedroom...in Bree's house. I groaned and rolled over in bed. The enormity of what had happened over the past week was now upon me again.
It was those few seconds of peace before I fully woke up which I wished for permanently, where my memory hadn't started up. But there I was in the forest, watching my love try to throw her magick away, and there I was afterwards, lying in the same bed I was in now, my father's words going round again and again in my head. When you leave someone who loves you, you take away more than just what you gave to them...you take away meaning itself. Goddess, I knew now, for certain, that I should have told Morgan that Hadrian was out to get me.
I should have warned her about who he was. I should have saved her father.
All these things, running through my head every minute of the past four days. I'd had nothing to do but lament; stopping my muirn beatha dan's magick from leaving her had taken a lot from me, I'd been confined to my room since I got back. I had effectively stopped the Goddess. Although, I'd had help from the very seed of my guilt and anger. Hadrian. And what made things worse was that I knew I couldn't have done it without him. My power alone, even with the extra magick I had acquired a year ago, was not enough to stop the heir of Belwicket if she wished to give her gift to the Goddess. But with the power of all the witches Hadrian had stripped, Morgan had been saved...just.
For two days afterwards I could do little other than sleep and walk from my room to Killian's. My magick felt like little more than a shrivelled leaf to the great forest it had been when I'd left England. I was drained. But four days of doing hardly anything had done a lot to restore me. Now I was feeling at least a bit shrubbish...
I groaned again and slid out of the covers. With Killian in the room next to me and Alisa in the one after him, Bree's house was looking more like an infirmary. Alisa was still having fitful dreams. Alyce had been doing healing spells with her, but Alisa was no longer a witch; magick wasn't so effective on her. She didn't want to worry her father, so she'd been staying here, trying to fill such an empty space. I heard her crying sometimes when I was checking on Killian, but there was nothing anyone could do to comfort her. How could there be? There would be an empty space for the rest of her life...and it could have been the same for Morgan.
Killian wasn't improving either. He hadn't spoken a lucid word since he had collapsed, and now he was in a deep fever. Sky stayed with him a lot of the time with him, sometimes working spells, but they didn't work. Da rang up almost every night, always with something new to try for Killian. We had no idea what it was, though, and so nothing worked. Morgan was our only hope...
I shook my head and wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Rain pattered on the flowerbox outside. The Sunday sky was dark with clouds. I pulled on a shirt and jeans and padded down to the kitchen, my muscles still aching a little. Bree stood peering into the fridge.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning," she replied, coming out with a carton of eggs, "how are you today?"
"Alive again," I told her, leaning against the counter, "how's Killian?"
"Quiet..." she looked at me worriedly, "he got worse in the night; the black thing's reached his shoulders now...it's like a plague."
I nodded. "Thanks for doing all of this, Bree. Putting up with everything, with Killian and me and Sky."
She flicked her hair over her shoulder and cracked an egg into the pan. "I don't have much choice in it," she said blankly, "Morgan's my best friend, and the only hope of getting her back is you, so I'll do what I can to help."
"You have no idea how thankful I am," I told her.
"I don't want your thanks," she said quietly, her back to me, "I want Morgan back."
"I know," I whispered, almost to myself. Sky walked into the kitchen, her boot heels clicking on the tiles.
"Morning," she said, her dark blue eyes scanning me up and down. "Good, you're in fighting order. We need to go and check out the barriers around Hadrian's house. We can't attack unless we know what's against us."
"This is sounding more and more like a war," murmured Bree, turning around to face us.
"With Hadrian, it is," said Sky bluntly, "right, Bree can you ring the house and make sure they're out?"
"Sure," said Bree, switching off the stove. She grabbed the phone from the countertop and dialled in the number. After a few seconds she put it back. "All clear."
"Thanks," said Sky, and looked at me, "time to go."'
"Without breakfast?" Bree said with extremely motherly dismay.
Sky shrugged, "Nope, I need my troops to be tough and hardy." Then I was dragged from the room, rolling my eyes for Bree's benefit.
"Save me some for later," I said with a grin.
I grabbed my jacket at the door and we headed out into the pouring rain. "Goddess," muttered Sky, squinting at the dark clouds, "this is almost as bad as British weather."
"I know," I said. We slid into my car and I switched the heating on.
As we coasted along the empty country road, I glanced at Sky. The last time I had seen her had been over a year ago, after I'd moved back to England. "I'm sorry I left you waiting for me in France," I said to her, guiding the car through the dense rain.
"She's your muirn beatha dan, Hunter – if you hadn't come here as soon as possible I would be angrier. It was a little worrying, though. I thought you'd vowed never to scry for her again?"
One of the first things I'd done after leaving Morgan was vow never to make contact or search for her, in case it brought her to Hadrian's attention. I knew Hadrian was monitoring me, I knew I had to get far away from Widow's Vale, keep Morgan from his sight. So I had run away in the night, like a coward...
I hurriedly threw a few t-shirts and jumpers into my bag, followed by some boxers and my passport. Da was in the next room, asleep. I couldn't tell him what was going to happen. I knew he was coming for me, I could feel his presence coming up the street. I shoved my athame through my belt, and said a quick prayer for the Goddess to watch over me on this night. Then I took my bag and walked outside. The sun was no more, now all there was was night. I threw my bag into the boot of my Honda and shut it with a slam. He was here.
"Niall." The voice came out of the darkness.
"Hadrian," I replied. Adrenaline, not fear, pumped through me. Fear would not save Morgan. The man who I had only seen in visions up until this point now walked into the light of the lonely street lamp. He was tall, dressed in black clothing, his face clear and straight, his skin, even in the yellow streetlamp, was grey and pallid.
"You have something of interest to me," he said.
I set my eyes directly on his with a short smile, "I do." His black eyes glared at me.
"You will hand it over to me now," he ordered.
My eyes narrowed, "I will, will I?"
"Unless you wish to die, you will," he was deadly calm. Confident.
"Try your best then," I said, reaching to my neck for the strong leather plait. I pulled out the reason he had come to me on this night, had threatened me so. It was a large gold pentacle, worn out by the thousand years of life, backed by a metal shield. Into it were carved the four elements, giving a clue to the true power of my heritage.
I watched as Hadrian licked his lips hungrily. The man was truly wild. His eyes flashed up to mine. "I would just hand it over, Niall," he said hoarsely.
I smiled again, confident now I could feel the pentacle's warm glow on my hand, "no, come and get it."
Hadrian waiting only a second before hurling a ball of dark magick at me. I had never felt anything so powerful in my life – not even Morgan could have wielded something this strong. I deflected it doubtfully, but my pentacle served its purpose, and I remained relatively unscathed. I returned his hit with my own. I still wasn't used to wielding so much power; it went wildly off line and hit the road. Hadrian laughed darkly. "Give it to me, Niall – you can hardly control it."
I glared at him and attacked again, this time only ordering a little of the pentacle into the magick. It hit right on target, but it still wasn't strong enough. Hadrian growled and advanced on me, hand outstretched, reaching for my pentacle.
I stepped back, and thrust my power at him. He deflected it this time, and continued on.
We fought, neither winning, neither truly losing.
Suddenly, I felt a surge of hellish pain in my chest and I realized he'd thrown two at once. I groaned, falling to my knees. Hadrian walked over to me. My pentacle swung in front of me. He was going to take it...
"Giomanach!" It was Da. I sensed that he stood in the doorway, anger pulsing out of him. Hadrian looked up, hesitating.
My father began to chant, 'ligean do dhuine loitim! Milli—'
'Duine a chur ina thost!' Hadrian yelled, his hand thrown out at my father. Da cried out, I knew he had fallen. I turned back to Hadrian, now a new anger burning in me. I remembered the athame in my belt, and yanked it out. In the moment of Hadrian's hesitation, I charged my athame, calling upon the wind, the water, the earth, the fires of the ancient times.
"Táthaím!" I cried, and slashed the athame across Hadrian's cheek. Blood spurted. I leapt up as he flew back, his head smacking the concrete. My seeker senses quickly told me he was unconscious. I turned around to my father. He lay on the doorstep, out cold. "Da!" I choked, running up to him. Blood covered his neck. There was too much of it. For a moment, I lost all control. The very earth I stood on collapsed for a second. But then suddenly a rhyme came to me. An ancient one, from long ago.
'A chara dorchadas a dhéanamh imeacht ó dhuit,
I gcás biotáille, Tadhg, a bheith dea
Deisiúchán an damáiste a dhéanamh liom a fheiceáil go
Ba chóir breathnú ar Lig dó mar an fiúntach'
I watched in awe as the blood went back through the massive slash in my father's neck. It didn't fully seal, but it partially healed. It amazed me. I had done that, with the help of my pentacle. Da was still unconscious, but I sensed he would live. Now it was time to leave, and lead Hadrian away from my Morgan, and her friends. I picked up my father – he wasn't too heavy, seeing as he still hadn't gotten back to a healthy weight – and buckled him into the backseat.
I got in the front and revved the engine. But then I looked in the direction of Morgan's house. Leave, Hunter, before you lose your nerve, my inner seeker told me. I drove out onto the road, pain stabbing at my heart, and made for the highway. I was only past a few houses when there was a great clunk on the back of the car. I swivelled round to look.
There, in the middle of the road, stood Hadrian, dark fire raging in his hands, sharp anger on his face. But he could not attack me again, not tonight
"Hunter!" Sky's voice brought me back to the present. "Wake up! You're driving here!"
"Bloody hell!" I cursed, swerving out of the path of an oncoming truck.
"Goddess!" Exclaimed Sky, "Choose your flashback moments better, Giomanach!"
"Sorry," I grumbled, ensuring we were on the right side of the road, "so what was the question?"
"Your vow," she told me.
"Oh, right..." I searched for something, some reason, but, as I knew at the time, "it was for the sight of a face," I told Sky.
"Well it was lucky you did," she said, and we left it at that.
Soon I pulled over into the same place I'd parked four nights ago. We got out into a thin layer of mud, both of us armed with our athames. "How far is it?" Asked Sky, looking out at the dark woods beyond us.
"It depends, I not sure how far his barriers extend,"
"Right." We began walking along the road. After fifteen minutes of walking through the spitting rain, we reached the entrance to the driveway. Two large stone pillars stood on either side of a cobbled road.
Cheldon Manor
The words were engraved in silver on the left column. I gazed at them for a moment. "Look," said Sky, pointing the right one, "it's strange that Morgan didn't see that." I studied the stone closely, and realized that some of it was discoloured. Zooming my vision out, I realised that the sloped 'N' shape of the rune Ur was set into the column.
"Apparently," I said "she stopped using her magick – her senses will be out of practise."
Sky frowned, "I bet you that house is brimming with magick and she hasn't noticed it. How on earth could she stop using her magick? How could it stop using her?"
I sighed, "You know Morgan; she's strong willed. If she wants to delude herself, she will."
Sky nodded. "Oh well, let's get down to it. How are we going to see where these barriers are?"
Putting a hand to the pentacle around my neck, I drew the simple arrow of Kenaz in the air, "Kenaz!" Suddenly runes appeared on the ground just outside of the gates. Dark and thick, both of us knew these were evil. I knelt down, careful not to get too close, and studied the deep grooves in the dirt. "We were lucky we didn't cross over these. They're directly connected to him," I pointed to one, "and this one would have frozen us."
"Like a spider web," muttered Sky, "what a bastard."
"These would have taken him ages," I said, standing and following the little trail of rune carvings further, "days at least. These runes are complex."
"Since when were you such an expert on dark runes?" Asked Sky.
"Since I took lessons with one of the Council witches on them," the trail led through into the bushes. We walked on.
"How did you convince them to do that? I thought you didn't tell them about Hadrian," said Sky, following behind me.
"I didn't, but he's been stirring up the Council for a while now. They thought it best if I was prepared,"
"Well, that's probably one of the only good decisions they've made lately," she said, "are you ever going to tell them about all this?"
"I don't see any point," I said, brushing away a tree branch from the trail, "they can't do much – they'll just cause a panic and Hadrian will slip away with Morgan. If he leaves, we might lose him for years, as many witches have done before. We have to keep him here."
We continued on for over an hour, walking through the woods immediately next to the large wall. We found only one weak spot, where a small creek ran across the trail. There were still runes there, but I knew it was weaker. "If we break in from here, we won't know where we are." I said to Sky.
"Ah, cousin, get with the twenty-first century," Sky grinned at me. I returned it with confusion, "Google Maps – it's a magickal thing called a website." She shook her head. "Honestly, Giomanach, you think that magick is the only cure for things."
We kept on walking, in search of another, more accessible break in the barriers. Keeping the barriers visible put a heavy strain on my magick. "Let me take over," said Sky, as we followed the runes along the outskirts of a muddy field.
"No," I told her, "We're almost finished, I'm sure."
As it was, it took us another half hour to get round to the driveway again. We had found no more faults in the barriers, and once again faced the stone pillars, now drenched and tired. And it wasn't even eleven yet. We went back to the car, and Sky demanded that she drive, saying I was looking too tired. "Besides, if you have another flashback, I want to have a firm grasp on the wheel."
I groaned, sliding into the passenger seat, "so now what, Sergeant Athar?"
She grinned at the name as she revved up the engine and pulled onto the road, "Now we go back to Bree's house and warm up. Then we'll work out what to do next."
"We're not going to be able to take on Hadrian, not even with all these extra people."
"You almost killed Hadrian alone, Hunter; with these other people backing you up, he won't have a chance."
I shook my head, "I told you, Hadrian's been stirring up the Council lately. It's because been attacking far more witches than he used to. He knows I'm a threat, he's taken more witches magick in the past two years than all his other attacks put together – he's stronger now."
"We'll find a way," she said. I stayed quiet. I didn't think we would find a way, not without someone ending up powerless or dead.
Bree's house was a warm haven out of the pouring rain. We sat at the kitchen table drinking hot soup with Bree, Robbie, Charlie and Alisa, who'd made her first appearance since that dark night just a few days ago. "We went round the entire house," Sky told everyone, "it's pretty much bulletproof. There's only one fault, but the wall there is too high."
"Could we dismantle it like we did with Alisa's blocks?" Asked Bree.
"They're more complex," I told her, "it might be possible...but it might not be."
"What does he even want with Morgan?" said Robbie, biting down on a piece of toast, "Why hasn't he stripped her powers yet?"
Alisa gripped Charlie's hand tightly at the other end of the table.
"I don't know," I said, "it's never been said that he was out for anything other than more power."
"Yes, but he's not exactly going for TV interviews and autobiographies," Sky pointed out, "we hardly know anything about him."
"But we know that Morgan's in danger, and we have to get her out of there," said Bree. They began discussing the option of bringing in all the witches they knew and dismantling the barriers with brute force.
I stood up and left the kitchen. They didn't understand the sort of power Hadrian could wield.
I went into Bree's pool room, where we used to have our circles. It hadn't changed at all. I pulled my lueg out of my pocket and sat cross legged on the ground.
There I spoke the same words I had spoken on the Cliffs of Dover, there I begged for an answer.
"Show me now what I should see,
What was past or what will be.
The stream of time will start to slow;
Show me where I need to go."
My fingers touched the cool surface of the stone. My eyelids closed.
Morgan's face appeared before mine. Beautiful, striking, bold. And yet behind her I could make out a stained glass window, and an organ playing. I understood that this was the present. The image slowly changed, faded. Now I was shown the pavement by the Rowland's house. The garden was unkempt and messy, the paint of the house flaky. The image moved forwards, the door swung open, inside it was dark and silent. Then we sped down the hall and up the stairs. There, on the second landing, the vision settled on an air vent. It was about the move forward again when my vision cut out.
My only sight was darkness.
"Hunter," a man's voice chimed in the black chasm.
"Hunter Niall," Hadrian's unmistakable voice surrounded me.
"Leave Widow's Vale, Hunter," it whispered, "before I kill."
"Never," I said out into nothingness.
"I have control over two people very close to Morgan. If you do not leave right now, one of them will die."
"What do you want from Morgan?" I demanded.
"I am sure you were there in the graveyard with MacEwan. You know my answer."
"And you know my power, Hadrian," I seethed, "I am not Killian, I am the heir of Gawain. Tell me. Now."
"No. Take heed of my warning. If you do not leave I will kill."
His voice faded out and I was once again sitting on the stone floor of the pool room. What was he talking about? I had a sick feeling in my stomach...
A shriek came from upstairs. "Killian!" I leapt up and ran from the poolroom and up the stairs, bursting into Killian's room. The others weren't far behind me.
Killian writhed on the bed, his covers kicked off, the horrible blackness like a claw on his bare chest, rippling. His back lifted, he shrieked, tears seeping from his eyes. "Killian!" I tried to restrain him, but he was suddenly indecently strong. His last bout of strength. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging, looked straight at me.
"Leave!" His voice croaked. I knew it was not his own. It was Hadrian's.
"Stop this!" I roar, knowing he could hear me. Killian suddenly gagged, blood spurting up from his mouth. He wrangled around into unearthly positions, his face drenched in blood and sweat. "Stop!" I cried out. But I knew it was no use. I knew what I had to do. "You will burn in Hell, Hadrian Blair!" I stormed from the room, wiping Killian's blood on my jeans. I quickly went to the next room and threw my clothes into a bag, along with my tools. Then I charged downstairs, grabbed my jacket and went out into the rain, slamming the door shut behind me. It was opened again by Sky.
"Hunter!" She yelled after me.
'Get back and help Killian. Tell the bastard I have left. Make sure he stops.' I told her through my mind as I got into my car, chucking my bag into the passenger seat. I revved the engine and swerved onto the street, rain already covering the vision. I sped down the road and once more headed for the highway, just as I had two years ago. I was running again.
So one may say that I am feeling somewhat downtrodden about things at the moment, so please, please, review