Don't turn around. Just keep walking and you'll be fine. Don't turn around. If they know you're afraid, they'll keep following.
Her breaths were coming in short gasps now as she quickened her pace. She knew she shouldn't have walked alone, or for that matter, walked at all. She shouldn't have been so stubborn and just accepted the ride. Then that way she wouldn't be walking the streets alone and about to have a panic attack.
They had started following her a few blocks back, cat calling and making obscene gestures every time she turned around to see how close they were getting. Now they had stopped the calling, stopped the mocking. They were no longer making obscene gestures; or was that because she was no longer looking back? Either way, she knew they were still following her.
She turned down another street, hoping to God that it would lead to a main street where she could try and lose herself in the crowd. But she had no such luck. The street just led down to the more industrial part of town. She'd left the safety and comfort of crowds far behind.
When she finally realised that she had nowhere to go, she started to run. And they followed. Now they had started calling again, but this time it wasn't to try and scare her. They were calling out to others, telling them to corner her so that she wouldn't be able to escape.
She flung herself around and raised her arm, pepper-spray ready in her hand.
"Don't touch me!" she said voice sounding confident. They just laughed at her and smirked. One stepped forward and she swung the pepper-spray towards him.
"Don't come any closer!" she said wildly swinging her arm back and forwards to try and ward them off, "I mean it! I'm not afraid to give you a face full of this stuff!" The guy who had stepped forward just laughed and continued to come closer.
"You really think that pepper-spray is going to stop us?" he laughed.
"Yes," she said watching him cautiously. They all just laughed.
"Honey, it ain't going to do squat." Then he lunged at her and she screamed. He knocked the can from her hand and pushed her onto the ground. She tried to scramble away from him but the others had advanced on her. She lashed out with her heeled foot and struck one of them in the face. He howled in pain and jumped back. She managed to jump to her feet and run a short distance away from them but one, the same guy who pushed her, suddenly appeared in front of him.
"How did you do that?" she asked.
"How did I do what?" he asked circling her.
"Just appear like that. You were way over there and now you're here. How did you do that? It's not possible for someone to do that…" she rambled on and on until he snapped.
"Oh, shut up!" he snapped, "God, I should have snapped your neck ages ago if I knew you were a bloody motor mouth!" She just stared at him.
"You couldn't break my neck," she said, "you don't look strong enough to do that." She started to back away as he walked forward, the strangest look on his face. She shrieked as she stumbled and fell back. She struggled to sit up and get away but he had straddled her. He leant down by her face and sneered.
"Don't judge a book by its cover," he quoted and hit her on the side of his head with his fist. The last thing she could remember was something digging into her neck then absolute blinding pain. Then there was nothing.
She sat on the roof of the high-rise, looking down at the busy streets of Perth. It had been 50 years ago that she was attacked, 50 years since she had first been turned. After that night, she had fled. She had never wanted to set foot back in that city again. But here she was, sitting on the roof of a high-rise and looking down on all the busy highways and streets. Why was she back? Only fate could tell. She had heard whispers that the thugs who had turned her, the thugs who had ended her life, had returned to the city and were taking up residence there. And it was high time that she had a little chat with her sire. And after the little chat, she was going to rip the bloody bastards head off. After all, he had destroyed her life so why shouldn't she be able to destroy his? Wasn't it called 'getting even'? Then once all the excitement was over, she might leave again. Or should she stay and try to hunt down the other bastards who stalked her that night? After all, they did play a part in her death even if they weren't the ones who turned her. Yes, yes they should all suffer. They should suffer like she suffered, like others before her suffered and those who suffered after her and will still continue to suffer.
It swelled up inside her, the feeling of her immense loathing and hatred towards them. They will suffer. They will pay. She could guarantee it. Not one of them would be alive once she was finished with them. Nothing would remain of them once she was finished with them. Nothing would remain but blackened ashes, blowing away in the winds. And then she will be free. Free to go on with what was left of her life, her eternal life. And maybe, just maybe, she could find happiness.
Okay, so what did you think? I want to know if I should continue or not. Tell me if it rocks or if it sucks. Any kind of advice or tips are welcome.
Well, please review.
VampSa