Pitter patter of the feet on concrete. She's running. The streets cold wet and deserted. The trees bend over and seem to reach down at her and the wind seems to whisper it wants to eat her.
Her eyes catch the light of the fire a little further ahead. She furrows her brow and whimpers as she mutters to herself, "This isn't possible. I wasn't here. I can't be here."
The air on her face begs to differ.
That's when he steps into the light. So enraged. So tall. So casual.
She's skidding to a stop as a a blue haze centers around them in this part of the neighborhood. Her feet find no balance or tread and she's falling into the muck of the hillside's bank. She's begging, pleading. The very name comes cross her lips but he does not listen.
With his fingers entwined into her hair he pulls her skull to his lips and he whispers into her ear. She screams as what he says to her bubbles up in her skin. His very words feel like acid to her brain for why does the side of her face layer with blisters?
He's lifting her off the ground and throwing her against the trunk of the nearest tree. Her legs kick and thrash but it's no use. He's twice her size and one of his hands can encircle her entire throat.
He demands, "Say it."
She shakes her head.
His knee comes up and finds her stomach and she gasps. Again, he repeats himself, "Say it!"
"I'm sorry." She shutters.
He nods, "You damn right."
Then he spits in her eyes and they melt out of her head as she screams into the night air.
In a small town outside of the city of Charlotte NC Kendall Knight spends his days working on new pieces. He illustrates with his words and brings the visions in his mind to life as he puffs on cannabis and awaits on the calls from his old friends that never come. His studio apartment is big enough for four people, maybe even more if they paired off, but he takes up all the space.
Occasionally his friend Nadi comes by to sip coffee with him as they wait on sunrise. He enjoys the company but she works a lot because there is no such thing as freedom in America. Truth be told he's gotten used to being alone. Sure he misses the company but the touch of a woman is taxing. Now that his detox is done he realizes how much of himself he lost to between the legs of the ladies throughout the year.
They're beautiful, enchanting, and can make him feel alive in the moment but their ways with words and their witch craft like conduction of themselves are draining. A constant mental battle he no longer allows himself to fight in. The only touch he can remember that didn't require a destructive amount of sacrifice was that of his brothers and he hasn't heard from them in so long. So on he writes for it seems there will be no visit from Nadi today. She'd have been here by now, usually.
The color of the blinds are kind of ugly. Perhaps if they were a periwinkle blue. The light would cascade through in the morning light and create a very fond adventurous green. He's clicking his pen and shuffling his pages as he analyzes this before he's distracted by the rough pounding on his front door.
A sigh. Nadi's a bit late.
He rises, pulls a robe over his tan skin and ties the rope around his waist just above the band of his purple boxers and walks over to the door. He slides it open and anger eclipses his face, "Stone."
Stepping aside he allows her in but he's not happy about it.
She cocks a brow, shocked by his reaction to seeing her after all this time, "Hey Kendall. I haven't seen you since Palm Springs."
"No shit. Why are you here?" He scoffs as he crosses over to the kitchen to make himself a cup of hot tea.
She meets him on the other side of the bar taking a seat in on of the stools attempting to reach over to the other side at his hands but he pulls away, "Don't touch me." he spits.
"Fine. I'll make this fast and then I'll leave. Jo has been murdered." She sighs, "He escaped."
The hot cup of Chamomile hits the floor and shatters. A cold chill comes in from the wide open window and he whispers, "Can you leave now?"
Lucy Stone nods and gathers herself. Sliding off the chair she makes her way to the door. Taking a deep breath she turns to say, "Carlos said, decode. Whatever that means." The door slides shut and she's gone.
He's at the door in a flash and bolting it shut in a heave with tears streaming down his face. Sure he loved Jo at one point but she chose fame over him so he found it easy to get over her. Of course it's sad she's been murdered but that's not what rips his soul in half. Carlos knew Kendall would only respond to something significant. He knows.
Kendall knows what it means.