"And what terror you knew then, shall become nothing to what awaits you now." - Unknown
She hesitated. Her iPhone felt heavy in her hands, its weight strained with the intangible dread that came from every hum of the phone's ringer. With a tentative press, she initiated the call and brought her phone up to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Katie dear, how's my little angel?"
Her fear of being met with the stern, scornful ire of her mother was dashed at the moment her father, Richard Marsh, warmly greeted her.
"Hey Dad. I'm—I'm doing alright," she greeted back, relieved.
"That's good to hear, kiddo. Well, I'd like to apologize first for taking so long to call you, we've been busy on our end—" and that horrible weight settled in Kate's heart, for he had to be talking about the spreading rumors, the aftermath of the party, "—and only now have those punks decided we were too much to handle," he chuckled out.
Oh, right. He was talking about the couple of bums that lived in the same Spokane neighborhood as the Marshes, who'd been after her family's homegrown vegetable garden since she had first learned to walk.
She chuckled with him, "That's good to hear, Dad."
He took his time with the next part, and Kate imagined him looking over the living room where the landline was. Perhaps he was observing the old forty-inch television that stood over the long dormant brick fireplace, and the soft fabric of the large couch facing it, along with her father's leather recliner off to its side. Maybe her sisters were in the kitchen even farther back, playing rock-paper-scissors over who was going to get the larger serving of steak when dinnertime came around.
"I've been meaning to tell you, and I'm sure your mother's been meaning to tell you as well, but you know how high-strung she is—" and Kate recalls that one time where her mother had smacked her on the back of the head when she'd accidentally knocked the last bottle of the woman's favorite wine, having left a blooming spray of the alcohol on the tile floor, "—so I figured you'd want to hear it from me first," he asked her more than told her, but she wasn't to complain.
"Of course," she sat down on Max's bed.
"Well," he began, "your mother and I have been talking, and…we think that it'd be best if you came back home—"
"No."
He stuttered from the immediate interruption, then sighed.
"Katie, please—"
"I don't want to go," it suddenly felt like she'd been doomed to a path she couldn't mend.
Perhaps he was just as anxious as she was, for he paused for a second before continuing, "I'm sorry kiddo, but your mother is adamant about bringing you home," he sighed again, "I can't blame her about it, either. We all miss you, Kate. We're all worried about you."
"I don't want to go," she repeated, standing and pacing, the guilt swelled in her stomach and flared with a sudden pain in her head. She knew he meant well; she knew her sisters had her in their hearts and their prayers, but all she could think of was her mother's terrible scowl, looming over her, "I can manage being by myself here, Dad, I swear it."
"Are you sure?" and he sounded like he always did, like he wanted to trust her, and she wanted to tell him that he was right to do so.
"I...", she hesitated.
How much was she going to risk by staying away from her family, if it meant she'd not have to see her spite-spitting mother and aunt? On the other hand, how much was she going to gain from distancing herself, if it meant turning down any near hope of seeing her father and sisters, her last semblance of a supporting family?
The double-edged sword struck Kate in the heart and left her feeling lost, unsure. She could not be unsure about this, it wouldn't do.
"You still there, kiddo?"
"…yeah. I'm still here."
She imagined the worried wrinkles that lined her father's eyes, once a bright, shining hazel like hers, weathered and worn from age. Those wrinkles that trailed to the sides of slightly chapped lips that made him look much older than he was. So much so, that she remembered how whenever he smiled, it looked like the world had battered him crooked.
"...why do you still want to stay, Katie?"
"I have friends here, Dad. Good friends. They're looking out for me whenever they can, and I trust them."
"Can they keep you safe from whoever's going around, trashing dorm rooms?"
Panic turned her to stone, "Wait, what?"
"We got an email from Blackwell regarding some incident at the dorms. They didn't specify, but it's why your mother was adamant about bringing you home. Seemed a little off the usual all-right, but they said they would be upping security."
They don't know the details, oh thank God!
Kate breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Oh, yeah, that—yeah, my friends and I will stay safe, Dad."
He paused. Worry grew for every second he didn't speak, and Kate takes a seat once again and bounces a knee in anxious fervor.
"Can you take care of yourself, Kate?"
"Yes."
The more she thought about it, the more her head began to spin again. She knew what was coming if she didn't stop. Scared, she looked over to the table, the crumpled bag of hot chips sat there, taunting her.
"Are you sure?" he clarified, cautious.
Keep lying to him, he'll feel horrible if you don't.
"Are you sure, Katie?"
Don't lie to him, he'll feel worse if he finds out you lied to him!
Kate decided, "...yes, Dad. I can take care of myself. I will be alright, I promise."
Her heart was the drum that beat so loudly in her ears in the silence that followed.
"…well, alright, then. I'll talk to your mother. See if she'll reconsider coming down."
She should be happy about that. She didn't smile.
"I'd hoped that we would all get to see you soon, but I suppose we'll come around to that sometime in the future," and as if he just remembered, Richard sputtered reminiscently, "Now, do you remember the stories that Uncle Riley used to tell you?"
Of course, she did. She remembered the stories of old Uncle Riley on her father's side of the family, and of all his experiences during the Troubles in Belfast.
She nodded, then shook her head incredulously, "Yeah, yeah, I remember."
"You know then, that ol' phrase he used to say, whenever you're down—"
"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile~" Kate hummed, smiling the slightest. It was the last of her memories with her uncle, but it was a good memory, at least.
"Remember to keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and the spirit of Blighty closest to your heart," her father chimed nostalgically, "Well, I ought to let you go, I've kept you long enough—I imagine you've got homework to do."
She hadn't even touched the assignments Max had gotten for her on Wednesday.
"Yeah, I do."
"It was nice hearing from you, kiddo," he says, genuine, "We all miss you."
"I miss you too, Dad," and the tug on her heartstrings grew prominent with that.
Some noise came from beyond where Richard was, enough to garner his attention, "Wait, what—? Yeah, it's Kate—oh, of course."
He whispered, "Lynn wants to talk to you, she's got some good news to share. 'Love you, Katie."
"I love you, Dad," she whispered back.
Some shuffling from the mic, and Kate was already smiling as Lynn's chipper tone broke through the pause, "Hey Katie!"
"Hey, Lynn. How's it going?"
"I had a soccer game earlier today and we won, we beat 'em by one point in the last half! Dad drove us to that Baskin' Robbins down the road and got me a whole pint of ice cream," and the sheer joy of her ten-year old sister's voice was loud, so loud and happy and long forgotten to her ears, that Kate smiled infectiously, "and now my friends from school are gonna stay the night, and we're gonna make cookies and watch movies and it's gonna be the best!"
"Oh, you don't have school tomorrow?"
"There's an assembly, so that means I don't really have to go to school until ten," Lynn excitedly explained, "I told Mum and she got all cranky, she said that I needed to keep my grades up, but I showed her and Dad my report card and he says I can stay up tonight!"
Kate's smile bloomed.
"That's good to hear, Lynn," she positively hummed.
"And biggest sis, Caitlyn, she said that she's gonna spend winter break with us like last year, so that means you gotta be here too—I wanna watch all the Christmas movies together," Lynn was a bundle of energy, untamed and unabated by physical exertion. A bright, shining light in this world of dim and dark.
Kate concluded that if she got to make her youngest sister happy, it would be worth whatever ire her mother and aunt had in store.
"I'll come up during winter break, Lynn. I promise."
"Pinky promise?" and Kate could imagine Lynn's free hand, pinkie extended like a cute curtsey, awaiting the seal of that formidable oath. So instinctually, she raised her own free hand, mimicking the image in her head and swearing, "I pinky promise."
Lynn cheered, bright and hopeful, and Kate was struck with a wave of sudden emotion, tears stung such salty sorrow and welled in the corners of her eyes. For she thought of the times of homemade hot chocolate with little marshmallows floating on top, and watching Frosty the Snowman, and being wrapped with that thick, soft-as-the-heavens blanket her grandmother had gifted her before passing on. She thought of her second home, so, so far away.
"I gotta go, Mum's gonna get mad again if I miss out on chores—" some background noise then came from beyond, most likely their mother was getting all crabby over why the table isn't set for dinnertime, "I love you sis, I can't wait to see you," her younger sister chirped.
"I love you too, Lynn, I'll see you soon," Kate promised, and reluctantly ended the call. She brushed a stray tear spilling from her glassy eyes.
As the light slowly dimmed from the blinds of Max's dorm room, the shadows crept along the carpet and up the walls. The hum of the air conditioning unit outside was all that could be heard in such a peaceful chamber. Upon the mattress there stood a black backpack, perched vigilantly as if waiting for its owner to finish tending to something.
The door opened and said owner stumbled inside. A towel was in her hands, brushing the after-shower moisture from her fluffy golden hair. She was donned in fresh attire, a grey plain t-shirt with the small golden crucifix framed upon her bosom, itself shrouded over an unzipped thick olive-drab hoodie, slightly too long on the sleeves. Another pair of loose-fitting jeans were adorned, these a deeper navy blue and long enough to cover her sock-covered soles.
While security had sealed her dorm room with caution tape, they didn't bother to lock the door. Perhaps they were awaiting the officials more suited in crime-scene investigations or were too underpaid to care. Either way, Kate had snuck into her trashed room, avoiding the terror-inducing mess around her, and had snatched another full set of clothes.
She'd need to be quick about this, as the light was dimming evermore and soon the ABPD would be patrolling the town post-curfew, and she didn't want to deal with the hassle of talking her way out of a spontaneous police interrogation.
Taking her tightly folded olive blanket, she stuffed it at the bottom of the backpack. This was followed by her pillow, folded in half and taking up most of the space. Kate topped it off with her purse, pushing it down so that the zipper would close over the top. The clothes took up another pocket in the backpack, squished from its now bloated midsection.
Time to go.
She fiddled on her worn, trusty pair of black tennis shoes, then slung the black backpack upon her shoulders, stepping out of the room and moving swiftly down the hall.
Passing the lively confines of Juliet's room, Kate thought to at least check up on them, but thought better of such. She'd been away from them long enough that it felt awkward to intrude, and stop dawdling, the light's going out, you gotta move—
Skirting down the stairway, the blonde rushed for the entrance of the dorm building and half tripped, half ducked as a silhouette showed itself from the other side of the little glass window, passing by the doors. She crawled on hands and knees and nudged herself into the corner between the wall and the door. The cap that the figure wore gave away their identity: a security guard, and definitely not Madsen if their skinnier build was anything to go by.
In the absence of interior light within the dorm building compared to outside, Kate pulled herself up and peeked through the window, observing the guard make his circle around the concrete paths of the dorm courtyard, a baton was being twirled in his hand.
There was no way she'd get past him. If she tried to open the door, the click of the bolt would definitely alert him—if she tried it slowly, she wouldn't get to a hiding spot in time, if there even were any near the door. If she tried to talk her way past him, he'll be automatically suspicious of why she'd want to leave, never mind the possibility of him being one of the guards under Prescott's thumb.
But he seemed distracted enough, as his attention was on the pines that stood beyond the brick perimeter of the campus, rising higher with the mountain. Maybe, if luck was on her side, she could take the risk—
The interior lights suddenly turned on, and Kate flinched, ducking again and controlling her pounding heart. She feared that the guard had noticed her peeking, and held still, fearful he'd be coming back towards the doors. Yet curiosity was getting to her. What if he wasn't? Perhaps he was oblivious and still looking at the trees, and she had a chance to escape.
Tilting her head so that only her left eye would be able to see, Kate slowly edged back up to the window—
He'sfacingthedoorohshi—
She ducked again, terrified, with a hand clasped over her mouth as the muffled sound of footsteps came closer, barely audible in the silence and that ambient hum of the lights. Clasping her legs close, she willed herself to mend with the wall, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't be smart enough to look where she hid.
She could hear the slight drumming of boots on concrete, stomping closer, and closer, now they stood inches from the door. She eyed the window, barely visible from her spot on the ground, and imagined the guard looking inside, eyes scanning for a disturbance, a slight detail amiss.
Kate held her breath, and silently prayed.
A muffled pitch of static sounded from what she assumed to be the guard's radio. Mumbled jargon followed, and with a muttered reply the guard about-faced and marched off, away from the doors.
She waited a good five seconds before she rose a third time, daring another look into the outside and seeing nobody. Slowly, she depressed the bar, the bolt retracting with a click and she pushed the door open, pressing on into the cold. The slight gust was still there, but now it carried a biting chill to it, trying to pierce the warmth harbored in her hoodie, so she fiddled the zipper closed.
Kate trekked as quietly as possible, the jostle of the zipper pins on her backpack now seemed to jingle with an amplified ring as she made it to the gate, peeking down the corridor.
No one.
She tiptoed as fast as she dared, choosing to bypass the steps leading to the quad, and heading all the way to where the corridor opens out into the street. To her immediate right was the sidewalk that hugged the street, and the small incline of the grassy earth that leveled out to the quad on its right. She could see the short flights of steps down the length of the sidewalk that would take her up toward the fountain, along with the few large pines not cleared from the quad that were lit by the outside lamps.
The guard from earlier was lightly jogging his way past the front of the main building, passing the length of it and marching behind the back corner of the gym building, heading in the direction of the boy's dorms. Kate wondered what kind of miracle allowed her this chance but didn't ponder long. Ducking as low as comfortably possible while upright, she trotted down the sidewalk, hidden by the dimming sunlight and the shadows of the trees.
The patter of her shoes on concrete and the god-awful zipper pins made her slightly cringe, yet she pressed on, past the courtyard, past the front of the gym building, and approaching the entrance to the school parking lot. From there, it was a straight shot down the slope until she'd arrive at the Price house—
phiiiIEE—BOOM
Kate jumped from the thunderous sound and looked to the bright aftermath of a firework erupting above the silhouette of the boy's dorms. Some faint shouting followed, so miniscule to the figurative clap of thunder moments before.
By God, what was going on?
She's overstayed her time here, she had to go now—
A hand, coated with a damp piece of cloth, clamped upon her mouth and she screamed, flailing against the intruding form of another person suddenly behind her. Whoever they were, they were far stronger than she was, and had an arm wrapped around her middle that roughly held her close. They hunched themselves into her, squishing the backpack between them. A wild strike from her elbow into their side earned her the space to wrench herself from their grasp. A rough, baritone growl rumbled from them as she clumsily sprinted, running with all her might down the pavement, really wishing that she'd just toss the backpack but now was not the time to think—
Her head lost track of which foot to put first, overcome with an unnatural dizziness, and she stumbled, tripping over her own momentum and skidding onto the cold, scratching embrace of the sidewalk. She willed her arms to push herself up, to get away, please get away they're coming, quick, while there's still a chance—!
A kick to her side rolled her over, facing up, and the rag hand grabbed her face again, persistent and oppressive. Kate pushed at the offending arm, willing it away from her, yet her side stung with an oncoming rash and her mind was faltering to black. And even now, face to face with her assailant, all she saw was the blur of their arm raised over their head.
The shock of a fist slammed into her left cheekbone, knocking her out.
The world rumbled, shaking her from her dreamless slumber. With that faint strength she opened weary eyes, and saw that she was in the dark, cold cabin of a vehicle. The entire left side of her face was throbbing so terribly, as any twitch of the mouth left her in agony. She felt the need to touch the pained flesh to evaluate the damage, but her arms wouldn't respond. They hung at her sides, limp, with her hands curled close in her lap. While Kate might not entirely control herself, she could control her eyes, and looked to the driver's seat beside her, seeing an arm clutch the steering wheel. The rest of this unknown person was shrouded in the darkness, out of her peripheral.
With what she could see from out of the passenger-side windshield, the sun had completely set, and now the night reigned once again. The lights of the truck illuminated the large trunks of the trees surrounding them, and those tree trunks loomed above the path they drove.
They were in the forest, Kate realized.
Her and her apparent kidnapper were in the forest. In their truck. Alone.
Oh God—!
Yet Kate held in her panic and carefully moved her head around, just enough to determine her surroundings. Turning, slowly, she looked to the driver, to the outline that came from the dash lights. It was a male, with slicked-back hair and donned with a thick, dark jacket. Its design was specific though, a letterman's jacket, red with white streaks along the sleeves. A Blackwell letterman jacket.
Prescott.
Resetting her head into the crook of her neck, Kate refrained from panicking and kept her breath quiet and short. The truck rounded a curve in the road, and from the pitch black came the monstrous ruins of the barn, the large entrance laid wide open. Its black maw awaited their entry, and Kate slightly shivered despite herself.
She had to escape, she had to run.
How? And to where?
She couldn't remember which way down the road would lead her back to Arkadia, never mind that she would likely be chased by Nathan until she reached the town. The forests were her best chance to escape; there, in their pitch black, would she stand a chance of getting away.
Once she makes her way back to town, it's straight to Chloe's house, and to Max and Chloe and David, and to safety.
All she has to do, is get away from Nathan.
He pulled into the open space of the interior, slowing the truck to a stop. The purr of said engine was cut with a turn of the key, leaving them in pitch black. Kate closed her eyes.
She heard Nathan shift in his seat, and imagined him looking over to her, parcellating if she was awake or not. She must've fooled him, for she heard the driver's door open as he stepped out and slammed the door shut.
She waited. It had to be the right moment, the right time.
What even was the right moment? What if that moment has already passed?
The passenger door opened, yet he didn't reach for her, instead shifting on his feet away and into the depths of the barn. A source of light then glowed from beyond her eyelids, yet Kate kept her eyes closed.
Wait for it.
There came the sudden grunt of exertion, followed by the squeaking of a metal hinge.
Kate opened her eyes to see Nathan, hunched over and looking tense, pulling at the trapdoor that led down to the bunker.
Now—!
She willed her arms to slowly ease herself out of the seat, and land quietly on the ground. Quickly did she skitter around the truck as Nathan's ruckus with the hatch drowned out her tiptoeing. Blending in with the shadows, Marsh quickly searched for the escape hole in the wall.
"What the fuck—?"
She whipped her head around and held a hand to her mouth. She pressed up against the wall of one of the wooden storage spaces, silent.
Footsteps rounded the truck, and she could see Nathan's silhouette twist this way and that, looking for her. In the glow of that single lightbulb, she could see the sharp angle of his brow, see his head swiveling, his predatory eyes searching. He had the light to his advantage, and with one single mistake, she'd be done for.
He stood still now, so silently still. Waiting for a noise, for any single sound. She didn't move either, waiting what he'd do next with trembling anticipation.
A slight rustling came from outside, and Nathan dashed for the barn entrance, Kate waited a good second before she moved as well. The hole on the side had been left open, having gone unnoticed by the Prescott heir, and Kate scurried on her knees and elbows through the opening.
The stacks of hay were large and ominous with their shadows as she stood, and ducked next to one, looking around anxiously. There laid a path now, directly before her between two haystacks, where it would open up to the property's wooden fence at the perimeter, and then the darkness of the forest beyond. As much as she feared the dark and the unknown, she feared being in the devil's clutches even more.
Darkness is the mere absence of light.
Yet, she hesitated.
There was no noise again, all was quiet. No crickets sang, no owls bellowed from the trees, not even the gust of wind whispered in her ears.
He's waiting, don't do it.
Footsteps, slow and barely noticeable, trekked from somewhere off to the left, from the front of the barn. With each step, they grew louder, closer. Kate's hands clenched to tight fists, and she tensed, eyes locked to the corner of the haystack she hid behind.
And the terror cometh for thee.
Indeed, this terror and the excitement now coursed through her veins, and her eyes dilated to their maximum, her brows fixed straight and low. Her mind was focused solely on the inevitable encounter. It will be swift, and merciless. All that rested in her favor was the element of surprise, and beyond that lied an uncertainty too dangerous to trust.
The footsteps grew closer.
For too long, she was the target of his ire, for too long she'd listened to his vitriol and said nothing in her defense. How much tolerance had she given to him, in the hopes that he'd change, that he would still hold some semblance of compassion in his heart? How much had she given to appease the tyrant of Blackwell, this murderer and his hounds?
The footsteps stopped, just short of the corner.
She imagined him standing there, waiting.
Waiting.
Her knuckles were clenched white, trembling.
Be not afraid.
The footsteps backed away then, first one step, then another, until they shuffled away, back to where they came. Her heart was beating so loudly in her head, that she could barely hear after the first handful of steps. She waited, counting to ten in her head, to when her heart became calm, and her breath was slow and steady.
Go.
She stepped quickly, passing the corner and onwards, to the fence—
A sudden force slammed into her side, tackling her to the ground.
Immediately did Kate cry out, and flail against the weight pressing her down. An arm snaked its way around her neck and squeezed, and she gasped. With his free arm, Nathan clambered to his feet, all while holding the smaller blonde in his merciless chokehold.
"Don't make this hard now, Marsh," he rasped in her ear.
Kate cried out again, one arm desperately clutching his own hooked around her throat, and the other still flailing, looking for any chance to smack him away. He roughly pulled her away to the barn entrance, away from salvation. Her efforts to escape grew rabid, and Prescott growled at her with joyful glee, "You almost had me there, you know. A damn shame."
The orange glow of the barn's interior was bright, and with it came the assuredness of her demise, so she gasped for breath and fought for one last chance. With a sudden swing of her free arm, Kate smacked her cold, hardened knuckles at Nathan's face, and one of these struck him in the eye. He cried out, his grip slacking, and she flung out of his hold, running with all her might for the road.
Immediately did the stomping follow her, chasing behind with thunderous percussion. Kate didn't look back, too afraid to trip and fall, too afraid to hand herself over to the clutches of Death so easily—
A force slammed into her back, tackling her and sending the both of them to the ground. Kate rolled, Nathan's grip on her was loose and she swiftly flung out of it, standing up again.
She backed away yet didn't run. She knew somehow, deep down, that she couldn't outrun him, that he would simply catch up to her again. Her chance was lost the moment she'd been caught. Then Nathan rose from the dirt, his back facing the light that emanated from the barn, which casted an outline around him. And Kate couldn't see his eyes, shrouded in those shadows, but she imagined them locked to her own, wild and vicious.
So, with a gulp, she bent her knees ever the slightest and raised her sleeve-laden fists.
Face your fears. Stand and Fight.
The outline of smiling dimples spread across his cheeks, and he chuckled, amused.
"Have it your way then, Jesus-freak," he cackled, and stepped ever closer, ready to spring like a coil. But Kate held her ground and angled her head down and ready, silently snarling at his proximity.
Overhead, the ravens watched from their places along the electric wires and the trees.
Nathan sprung, roaring with sudden intensity and pouncing onto Kate, who received his claws with a swift punch to his jaw. His momentum drove him through, knocking them off balance and sending them to the dirt once again, and he bit back the aching in his mouth to wrestle at the flailing arms beneath him. She bucked at him, using his lack of balance against him and giving enough space to drive a knee into his soft underbelly. A wild right haymaker was blocked by his left arm as he gasped for air, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing the life out of her in return.
She choked, diverting her efforts to ridding the pressure on her windpipe, trying to use her legs as a buffer to kick him off. He pressed down harder, once more crushing her airflow with the force. While Prescott might not weigh much for his size, it was definitely more than what Kate had to counter, and she started to panic. A desperate hand pushed at his face, but his grip wouldn't budge. She tried getting her legs underneath him, but he'd straddled her waist, pinning her to the ground. Her heartbeat boomed its chorus, a death drum beating the tune of the unlucky.
Fight!
Face red and with tears in her eyes, Kate swung her free arm under Nathan's chin in a weak uppercut, connecting and forcing his hold off her neck. She gasped horribly, rolling on her side and coughing back sweet air into starved lungs. Her head tingled and lolled, the lack of blood making her dizzy as she made to stand.
A hand took her by the arm, spinning her around and face first into a driving fist.
Her left cheek, initially suffering a small sting from the previous impact, flared into a burning, god awful pain. She groaned, now lying on her stomach and crawling away, terrified. The Prescott heir kicked her onto her back and swung down at her again, hitting the upper arm she rose to block the strike.
But it didn't matter much, as he threw another punch, and another, and another, and another, until it hurt to keep her arms raised. When she tried to curl up to protect herself, he seemed compelled to hit her harder, striking at her prone form like a madman. Groans turned to whimpers which turned to wails, yet he didn't hear her, her every pleading word was met with a swift strike.
"Stop, please—!"
He finally stopped after silencing her with a violent kick to the gut, making her gasp.
Kate wheezed, and rolled onto her back again. In the sparse light he could see those gleaming trails fall from hazel eyes and drip down to the lobes of her ears, and her dirty, golden hair was disheveled and loose from its bun, the free-flowing locks circled her sweating, badly bruised face.
Nathan smiled. A wide, toothy smile.
"W-why?" she whimpered, teary-eyed and truly afraid.
His teeth were bright in the dark, grinning.
"Because."
And he roughly grabbed the collar of her hoodie, pulling the dead-weight into a sitting position. Fueled from adrenaline, he hoisted her to his shoulders, and she cried out in pain as his pointy shoulder bones poked her bruised torso. Huffing, he stubbornly carried her back to the barn, and dropped her on the cold ground next to the hatch.
Her everything was pain. It was all that he had reduced her to, to spasms of stimuli and tears. Her ribcage felt ready to splinter into fragments, into thousands of sharpened shards that would tear through her flesh. She rolled onto her back and shivered.
Nathan loomed over her.
"You should've ran when you had the chance," he spoke coldly, distantly. He slowly squatted down to look her with his eyes, his cold, dead blue eyes, "what a shame, what a shame."
In his hand was a syringe.
"You're afraid, because you're just a poor little bunny. For that's all you've been, and that's all you ever will be."
Kate stiffened at the sight of it, eyes wide with terror. She tried to crawl away from the glistening needle, but a knee pressing on her aching stomach held her still. She bit back a cry as Nathan angled himself over her, reaching out and gripping her jaw tight.
"You're afraid, because you're not a wolf."
Weak hands tried to push his arm away, so he gripped her jaw harder, and pulled her close. He could see the dilation of her pupils, and the shine of wet, tangy blood trickling from a bloody nose.
"For this is the land of wolves now."
He pushed her head back, exposing her neck and with precision he pierced her pale skin, depressing the plunger.