Walking Dead is about to come on TV. Anyone watch Walking Dead? I was like, desperately writing this as quick as I could so I can get it out and watch it haha. So if there's any mistakes, that's why. Thank you for such lovely reviews last chapter, such things always bring a smile to my face.

Chapter 3 – running on a countdown

The dream is always the same. I'm in a car. I don't know the speed, but I know it's too fast. I don't care though. It's exhilarating and enlightening and carefree and happiness. The feeling is alien to me, but it's familiar in the dream.

A faceless person is driving, another in the front passenger, and a person on either side of me. They're wisps of smoke, and they're chatting to each other and they're chatting to me, and I'm talking back but I have no idea what anyone's saying. It's like we're speaking underwater. But I know the tone of the conversation and it's something good. If it wasn't good then there wouldn't be dull laughter and people wouldn't be singing to a silent radio.

Then we hit something and the car flips, rolls, the windows cave in, glass spattering everywhere and it cuts my skin like fragments of ice. People are screaming until they're silenced.

And then there's nothing except for the dripping of blood and petroleum. I can smell the rusty, metallic scent, and the people next to me aren't there anymore. They're gone, and so am I.

I wake.

My councillor is a breathless, half senile old man full of good intentions and bad judgement. He too wears the countdown over his head, though his numbers are significantly lower than most other peoples.

The two days are frustrating. They time me when I go to the toilet, won't let me lock the doors, watch me when I dress, make sure I eat right, and overall are overly obsessive that I don't try to kill myself. The strange thing is, when I look in the mirror I can't see a countdown on me. I have to refrain from swiping the air over the old man's head. The only thing that stops me is knowing that seeing things will land me a one-way ticket to the psych ward, and that's what I'm trying to stay away from.

"So what pushed you to such a point, young man?" the councillor had asked me.

"Nothing," I'd replied (lied). "I was up there enjoying the storm and I didn't see the ledge. It was slippery. I fell. And now I'm here. It was an accident. If I was trying to kill myself there would've been more evidence. A note, or cuts up my arms, or even a history."

"Do you enjoy putting yourself in harm's way?"

"No." Yes. "It was an accident. Go look for yourself. There's no railings or anything up there. Someone was bound to accidently fall off and it happened to be me. I'm just glad it didn't kill me." Lying is second nature to me. As much a part of me as my arm.

More questions. More lies. And by the end of the two days he's convinced that I'm a surly, ungrateful twenty-one year old man, but not a suicidal one.

"You take care of yourself now," he says, and I wave, then walk. Don't look back. He's watching, I can feel it, but I won't give him the satisfaction of a smile.

The sun is bright. Too bright. And the crowds are dense, pushing, shoving, screaming, talking, everyone has something to do or somewhere to be. I enjoy listening in on people's conversations, being given access to a small fragment of their life – I often do that before I take it. It reminds me that the people I kill are exactly that: people. Flawed, normal, complex people, and that helps with the sanity a little. I don't want to lose my humanity. I don't want to see people as an object, because once I do that I'll stop caring and who knows what kind of monster I'll be then?

Probably the demon they so aptly named me for.

I don't know what this countdown thing will do for my humanity, but everyone's still wearing theirs like some ghostly apparition dangling above their heads.

"Honey, I swear, she means nothing to me, she just keeps texting me and no matter what I do -"

"But mummy I want it! It's just an ice cream, why can't you -"

"Yeah, it's going okay, a bit stressful though. But everyone's gotta start somewhere, right? I just wish -"

"See you guys, I'll catch you later!"

The last one is said by a girl with long, waist-length hair a peculiar shade of midnight. Even more peculiar than her hair is her eyes, an almost translucent shade of mother-of-pearl. She's walking away from three girls, one blonde, one brunette, and one pink. I'd say it's dyed but there's no regrowth. I sweep over the countdowns hanging off their heads. Normal. But the first girl with strange hair and stranger eyes makes my heart stop.

10, it says. She's walking out on to the road, not looking where she's going, the idiot, and my body moves before I tell it to. Stupid thing. That's the second time it's done that in less than a week. I hope it's not planning on making a habit out of this.

9. She's looking through her bag. The idiot is walking out on to a busy road and she's looking through her bag. I almost will myself to stop moving, I'm so annoyed. But hell, I've killed so many people, saving one can't hurt my karma any less, can it? I'm going to hell (if there is such a place) anyway, may as well do one thing right first.

8. The crowd is thick. There's so many goddamn people. Christ, we need a new epidemic, overpopulation is a serious problem. I'll sign up to be a victim. Top of the list, front and centre, take me please.

7.

6.

5.

4.

3. I'm almost there. I can see a truck now. Driver's not looking either. Fucking idiot, eyes were made for us to see with, has everyone suddenly lost that ability? Or have our brains just gone AWOL for these particular ten seconds?

Either way, she's halfway across the road when I reach the curb, and I have 2 seconds to reach her before she becomes a new feature on the bitumen.

I'm running and my head is fucking killing me, and Christ, when did the road become so long? Truck's nearly there, she's seen it now (finally) and of course she's frozen in place, hand still hanging limp out of her bag, the other still holding it up.

1. I reach her, grab the top of her arm and drag her out of the way, careening into the pavement on the opposite side. The truck skids past with a loud and ever fading honk of its horn, but the fool doesn't stop, just keeps going. No big deal. Didn't just nearly kill someone. That's my line of work, not yours.

I'm panting, heart hammering a tattoo against my rib cage, breath coming out in ragged gasps. I glare down at the stupid, stupid girl next to me, my fingers still digging a bruise into her bicep, and say without thought: "You're an absolute idiot, you know that?"

Hinata's here! Was probably pretty obvious how I was intending on introducing her, but I'm not really trying to go for subtlety at the moment. Maybe a little later. Anyway, I hope you like it, and please do leave a review, they really just make everything so worthwhile and I love hearing your thoughts :)

All my love, Alia xoxo