Chapter 3: Still You

Zack and Ray made their way to the escape door in his study, to a long tunnel leading them out the surrounding wood. Ray didn't need to think critically to ascertain why he'd likely had a trap door. Emerging on the surface, they caught the scent of that sweet, nauseating aroma again. Having just been exposed to Father Gray's hallucinogenic, Rachel was hit was an alarming realization: that smell was quite unlike this one. Overwhelmed from all directions, Ray finally realized where she'd recognized it.

It wasn't his drug. It was gasoline.

"Shit," Zack muttered through gritted teeth, eyes wide. "Fuckin' psycho lit the whole damn forest on fire."

Ray supposed it was thoughtful gesture in one respect, however mindless in another. It'd give them cover in the worst way possible. Part of her prayed the fire would stay contained, but the drenched brushwood seemed to feel otherwise. Reverend Gray would never be caught dead with such a shoddy job. Despite the preacher's sentiments and actions, Rachel had to question if this was another one of his tests or not. Either way, it was certainly turning out to be. For whatever reason, he really didn't want them to stay. Why? Was he, just... trying to kill them again?

Or was it the opposite entirely?

The distant sound of howling hounds echoed over the spreading flame. "Dammit," Zack voices shouted something akin to, "they picked up the trail," and, "they were with him". Instantly, Zack pivoted, grabbing Rachel by the sleeve. Her bandaged wound ached with his less-than gentle nature. "Keep up, Short Stuff!" As if on cue, Rachel tripped, falling on the ground without a sound. On high alert, Zack cursed under his breath. He had half a mind to let her sit there and burn, but against his better judgement, he leaned down, yanking the girl to stand again. As she was one to in situations like this, and despite the chaos rapidly growing around them, Ray's state of mind was oddly absent. In her moment of dissociation, she paused, as if to listen to something that wasn't there...

Wait.

Releasing herself from his hold, her pace picked up in the opposite direction, not lending him so much as a single word of courtesy. She was certain she recognized that sound. "Hey!" shouted Zack, following with the greatest reluctance and annoyance. "Where the hell're you—hey!" (She ignored him.) "I'm talkin' ta' you!" Despite his overwhelming protests, she didn't falter in her resolve. "I said slow—!"

And then, abruptly, she did stop. Unexpectedly. So much so, in fact, that Zack nearly slamming into her and toppling the both of them over. Thank God Rachel had the foresight to steady herself.

Before them, the ground fell at a 90 degree drop-off, not more than a foot away.

"T-The hell is your problem!?" Zack shouted, "Whadda ya think you're doin'—!" She cut him off, though only by means inaudible. Her vacant stare was only accompanied by a finger, pointed down in front of her. The sound of rushing water echoed up the crater's edges. At the bottom was a river.

It took a second for Zack to grasp her meaning.

Ah, hell nah.

"Are you crazy!?" he shouted, "Are you really tellin' me to jump off a cliff?" Ray looked up to him, her expression hardly showing a proper reflection of the situation. Her fluorescent blue eyes lit with an orange highlight from the raging flames.

"They won't follow us this way," said Ray simply.

"Just 'cause I don't wanna burn to death doesn't mean I wanna drown either!" he exclaimed, and after a second, Ray merely shrugged.

Well, okay.

"Suit yourself."

Wait. Zack's eyes narrowed. She wouldn't?

"You little—"

And then, she did.

He lunged after her, though only a moment too late, as she cascade to the bottom in a flail of blonde and white. "God dammit, Ray!" he called out. Despite feeling sweat pool thicker at the base of his neck, the sight of the rushing stream didn't look appealing in the slightest, but the heat was getting more and more unbearable. A groan echoed in his throat escalated to a yell.

"Girl, you're gonna get me killed!"

And then, of course, he jumped after her.

He knifed into the water with a painful splash. The stream was instant in lashing him left to right without mercy, and keeping a firm hold on his scythe wasn't easy—but like hell if he was gonna let another go right after he'd gotten a new one. "Ray!" he shouted, thrashing about. Zack dove forward, eyes scanning over the waves about his vision. "Ray!" He steadied himself among the chaos as best he could, trying his damnedest to catch view of her. Just as his sights locked onto a sopping mop of blonde, his concentration broke as he slammed into a befallen branch. He shouted as it was broken in half by the collision.

"Zack!" she called out fearfully.

He coughed up water and bile. "I-I'm fine!" He grit his teeth. "Just—get your ass over here!"

Hastily, she tried to paddle his way as the duo fought the current keeping them apart, though Rachel couldn't keep her head above water long. "I can't—!" As she was about to submerge once again, an elongated limb reached our; bandaged digits took a firm hold on her wrist.

"Gotcha!" Zack inhaled sharply, but just as things would've seemed as though they'd taken a turn in the duo's favor, Rachel's voice escalated again.

"Up ahead!" she shouted. His gaze snapped to look down the way, asymmetric optics widening towards the sight of a misting edge over which the rapids plunged. A waterfall.

"Shit!" he cursed atop his lungs, gurgling on river water.

She needed to think. Quickly. Her gaze jolted about their surroundings, and there was so little beyond the relentless white-waters—but she had to come up with something, anything. How could she, though, when there was only water surrounded by canyon?

Wait! That was it!

"Zack, stick your scythe into the sediment!"

"...The what?!" Smaller words, woman! Smaller words!

"The rocks!" she shouted. "Stab it into the rocks!"

His gaze snapped to the gravel-layered wall. "That ain't gonna—!" As the rapids' end grew nearer and nearer, the girl cut him off. It wasn't framed as a demand, but more-so like a metronome to keep him on beat.

"Now!"

Dammit, Ray!

A yell of frustration reverberated from his throat as Zack ultimately did what she'd said. He slammed the blade into the earth's wall, and they didn't stop, but luckily, they did slow. The edge dragged, chipping parts of the stone from its place, but at the very least, it gave Rachel a moment longer to come up with what to do next. Her gaze shot about, landing on a fast approaching branch that protruded from the side.

She reached up, wrapping her free hand around the bark. Instantly, pain shot through her whole body, starting at her healing gunshot wound. Trying to support not only the weight of herself, but Zack as well, proved too strenuous. She grit her teeth, but she didn't scream, finding it difficult, even now. Zack's blade busted from the wall, and their only security left was in Rachel's hold. Working up all his strength, he dragged himself against the current by way of her wrist. He reached out to grab the branch in her stead. Almost there, almost there!

Snap.

And suddenly, screaming became a lot more natural.

The branch broke in two, sending the duo cascading down the river again. Zack may not have been a quick thinker, but acting on instinct, he yanked Ray full-force towards him. She wrapped herself in his embrace, and they plummeted over the side. All went white.

A heavy form found itself plastered firmly to the ground of a muddy riverbank. Zack heaved himself to sit up, asymmetric optics pulling open from the weight of a headache.

"Fuckin'—hell," he panted heavily. He slipped a hand to the back of his head, pulling down the soaking hood of his jacket. Finding his anger, he grit his teeth. "The hell were you—!" He cut himself off as he looked around, just not realizing that his only company was his scythe, washed up a few feet away. "...Ray?" He dragged himself to his feet, calling out again. "'Ey, Ray!"

No response.

Grumbling beneath his breath, he stood and collected his weapon. A once-over from the way they came showed no sign of his partner, and so he treaded the opposite direction along the bank. "Where the Sam Hell are you?!" he shouted, and no one shouted back.

Unconsciously, his pace quickened.

Suddenly, as his view scanned along the riverbank, a stained mess of white was stuck against a fallen branch. She was caught, but he knew he could reach her at least. His heart both calmed and raced in a strange sort of way, but he cursed under his breath regardless. Wasting no time, he set down his scythe, letting his footsteps enter the river again.

"Y-You—you're fuckin' crazy, girl!" he hissed; wading towards her, the freezing water rose to his hips by the time he'd reached her in full. An agitated sound reverberated from his throat as he took her by the scruff, breaking her free from the wooden trap she'd been in. He carried her back to shore with the same kindness, tossing her ragged body to the sandy bank before flopping down next to her. "I can't believe you just jumped off a goddamn cliff into a goddamn river!" Zack raised his voice, anxious for her to stir.

Ray, however, remained laying face down.

He growled and shoved her with his foot; she rolled to her back, face dirty with the river mud and sand. His eyebrows knit together. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you," his tone had lowered a bit, though not yet without agitation, "Wake up."

She didn't.

He put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a shake. "Earth to psycho!" Again, his heart dropped as he realized the situation. He leaned down to listen for her breath, it was hard to discern and he couldn't quite tell. (To be fair, his concerns were never in securing life, but instead ending it.) In any situation, her form remained still. "Get up!" he demanded again. He took her by the shoulders in full, giving her a more stern shake. When she remained unmoving, he jolted her body harder, and harder, and harder yet, but there was absolutely no response.

...Christ.

He knew you could make a person breathe again by pushing on their chest, but he'd never done it himself. Reluctant, he put a hesitant hand to the center of her delicate form; awkwardly, he gave her a moderate nudge. He shifted a bit and tried again, keeping it up for a minute before letting his impatience get too intense. "Wake up already!"

He didn't know what to do.

He didn't know.

He grit his teeth, hands falling to her shoulders once more, grip so rough that he lifted her lifeless body in anger before letting her fall limp again. Alright—now, she was just making him mad. "I said," raising a clenched palm as he stared at her characteristically lifeless face, "wake the fuck up!"

He slammed his fist down against her chest.

Instantaneously, a waterlogged cough echoed in response as she jolted a bit. He blinked in surprise as his heart lifted with an unfamiliar relief. Rachel spat an excess water from her throat.

Wow. Did that really work?

Interestingly, his outburst wasn't done in hopes of resuscitating her, but rather, simply out of anger. Slowly, the girl looked over. "Zack..."

She couldn't say much more before bursting out in a coughing fit again. Roughly, he grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit up as he smacked her back, "helping" her catch her breath again. A backhanded gesture, all things considered, as he then shouted in her face. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

After a moment, the faintest hint of realization showed on Ray's face as she'd remembered what happened. "We're alive?" She sounded so surprised, it honestly made Zack angrier. "Did you save me?"

"Sure did, fuck you very much," he replied without missing a beat, sarcasm pouring from his lips louder than the nearby rapids. Her eyebrows knit together slightly, as she said nothing for a moment.

"I'm sorry," was her ultimate and only reply, an apology that wasn't taken as kindly as it was meant. "I wasn't strong enough to—"

"Oh, give it a rest," he cut her off. "Apologizes don't mean shit if you're tryin'a make a liar out of me, Ray!"

Tepidly, she looked away. "I, I just—"

"You would've died if I hadn't smacked the sense back into you!" Speaking of, she put a hand to the center of her aching chest; his touch was as "gentle" as it'd never been. "You nearly killed yourself, and what's worse, you nearly dragged me along, too!" The regard for her own life was, of course, quickly overlooked, but she felt a strange sort of guilt at the latter half of his statement. "I know you don't care if you die, but I ain't so keen on the idea, ya morbid little fuck!"

Sincerity welled in otherwise empty optics. Her actions weren't meant so selfishly, of course, but she hadn't realized how it must've come off to him. After a minute, she tried to give him the explanation she owed. She exhaled. "I thought, maybe if I jumped—"

"What, I'd have to follow you?" For someone who looked so innocent, she could be real manipulative without even known it. Rachel looked away in shame. It took her a moment to find the right words.

"In the building, you didn't want to burn to death," she stated simply, remembering the rare sight of fear upon his face towards the only thing in the world he couldn't deal with. "I didn't," she exhaled a pause, almost trailing off, "I didn't want something bad to happen to you." Towards the confession, Zack's brow knit together. One could even say he was almost taken aback, but it only showed for a brief moment before his expression hardened again. Not letting go of her arm yet, his grip only tightened.

"If you thought the shit in that building was the worst of what was tryin' to kill us," he yanked her closer, staring directly into her eyes, "you're in for a big wake-up call out here in the real world."

He released his hold with a light shove. She only stared at the ground like a guilty child as the boy rose to his feet. "You can kill me now, if it'll help you feel better," a casual sort of sincerity accompanied her flat tone. She still wasn't quite done thinking yet, but the least she could do was offer.

"Nah," Zack muttered, clearly grumpy and not in the mood. "Just—help me find a place to dry off, 'kay?"

Obediently, Ray nodded, standing to follow at a comfortable distance.

They followed the stream down river; it wasn't long until they came to a highway overpass. Ray explained that if they kept with it, there'd probably be some sort of oasis or refueling station along the way. Sure enough, a few hours walk had led them to a mucky Shell gas station. By the time they'd got there, the sun was setting to afternoon twilight. Almost ironically, while their clothes were already nearly dry—the unsightly image of dark clouds eclipsed the distant horizon. Ray looked to the store, then back to Isaac.

"I think it'd be best if you stayed out here," she said bluntly.

"What, you gonna rob the place yourself?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're like, ten."

Almost fourteen, but okay. "We need to lay low for now. I'll be quiet, they won't even know I'm there."

Despite how chaotic their dip in the river had been, at least the blood had been washed from their clothes. Regardless, her bandaged wound was still visible. "You're really just gonna walk in like that?" It was true, the last thing they needed was anyone questioning her, and her appearance was what one might call unorthodox.

Ray shrugged. "I could wear your hoodie, so no one gets a good look at me."

Zack rolled his eyes, his means of resentful compliance. He dragged the triangular tab of his jacket down, yanking his sleeves off before tossing it at Ray. It wafted over her head and fell into her hands. "Just hurry up," he muttered, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you—?"

"Takin' a piss, where the hell do you think?"

Gazing off towards his retreating form, she hoped no one would spot him. Not because he'd draw attention to himself necessarily, but because she could tell he clearly wasn't comfortable without his jacket, and only his bandages were left to cover his burns. Regardless, she looked down to the garment in her arms, then sliding it over her shoulders.

Huh.

Ray closed her eyes, wrapping herself in his indirect embrace. Until now, she hadn't realized how cold she'd been. It was almost summer, even, wasn't it? She pulled the hood up to cover her head.

After a moment, the loud jostling of a gas nozzle echoed in the otherwise empty lot. Nearby, a young woman stood at a gas pump. She was pretty, had dirty blonde hair and a trendy outfit—she looked to be around Zack's age. The cogs turned in Rachel's mind. That could be her cover.

If possible, she'd sneak behind when the woman went in to pay, so the store bell would only chime once. If she was spotted, maybe the cashier would just assume she was her child. If nothing else, she'd just grab what they needed and run. After the woman was done pumping her gas, Ray followed behind at a distance. If the older girl noticed her, she payed her little mind. Popping into the store behind, she didn't make a sound. Easy enough so far.

Perhaps a little too easy, she'd soon realize.

Ray shifted to hide, the distant sound of voices hummed behind the sound of a TV, it was mounted on the wall. She wasn't listening close, but she could tell the channel was set in some sort of news station with the buzzwords resounding in her ears, "Back Alley Murderer," beyond the rest. "Ya hear they're sayin' they think that escaped serial killer's hangin' out in the woods 'round here?" said the person behind the counter. His voice was low and gravely, Rachel thought he might've been a smoker. She peeked to get a look at him. He was an older man, probably in his early fifties—looking unkempt, and, for lack-of a better term, greasy.

"Oh, really? How scary," the woman replied absently, she seemed distracted digging in her purse. Good, thought Rachel, keep him distracted. Ray made her way to the coolers in the back. Quietly as possible, she opened the large doors just a crack to grab a few large bottles of water. Something else caught her eye before she closed it in full.

Soda.

Zack liked soda.

She wasn't sure she remembered the exact brand, but she knew it was a dark soda. She grabbed a few brightly packaged bottles, and her hands were already getting full. She didn't know if they'd have cereal, but he also liked chips, and—

"Hey, what are you doing?"

She froze in place. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder, but very much to her surpise, no one was there.

"H-Hey," the voice called again, "No, really, I have the money in my car."

It was the woman's voice, one not directed her way, she heard her frantically mumble something about a lost wallet. Silent as a mouse, Ray again peeked around the corner of the shelf, her gaze narrowing in as the woman was awkwardly hunched forward as the clerk taken grabbed her by the wrist. "Don't sweat it, maybe we can work somethin' else out?" He stroked his thumb on her skin.

"No, I can pay," she insisted, "j-just, let me run out to my car and see if I can find my wallet," a weak attempt at getting away from him, Ray realized, but it didn't seem like he fell for it. "I must have dropped it, or—"

"Or, maybe, you can forget about the cash," he said, the tone of his voice clearly suggesting ulterior intentions. He withheld a dark glint in his eye, reflecting terror in the woman's.

"Please, let go of me," she finally said, tone a little more assertive now.

"Don't be like that, Darlin'," the turn of his voice matched his hold on her wrist, both growing more aggressively by the second. "Ain't nobody like a pru—"

Fearful, and what seemed instinctually, the girl rose her free hand, laying her palm flat across his face with a loud slap. It almost looked like she hadn't realized what she'd done until it was over, her eyes going wide as she tried not to let her cower show. Slowly, the clerk canted his head slightly, gaze falling back upon her as he displayed a silent rage.

His tepid grasp turned to a vice grip, any sense of moderation or give disappearing completely. The girl cried out in pain. "Hey... stop!" Her breath hitched as the man made his way around the counter, never releasing her from his hold. "Stop it!"

He didn't. "You wanna play that way?" A smirk followed on his visage. He pulled her closer, and the woman could smell the sharp scent of alcohol on his breath. "Then why don't we take this out back?" Tears welled in the woman's eyes as she froze. He released her arm only to tear his hand through her locks and grab her by the hair. Her screams were muffled as he neutralized her, taking her towards the back door, only stopping to lock the main entrance and turn off the lights, flipping the "open" sign to "break".

And then, Rachel was alone.

In the dark, she looked down at the articles in her arms, then to the nearby rack. She reached out, however over-encumbered, grabbing a large bag of potato chips. Then she turned towards the entrance.

It was times like this that helped Ray's faith remained so strong, be it for better or worse, because it was was as if the Lord himself had brought her here at this exact moment.

But, realistically, things like this happened all the time, right? Her mother had told her from a young age not to go to the store by herself late at night, and her father telling her on repeat how dangerous and disgusting the intentions of men could be. The world was cold and hard and unforgiving, and unfortunately, some people just wouldn't be able to get along it it so easily.

Something in Rachel's heart, however, didn't sit right.

Unlocking and pushing open the heavy door, the shifting of footsteps signaled someone at her side. Zack emerged from the overhang shadows, and she hadn't seen him until he made himself known. "That was fast," he noted, sounding almost impressed. He looked at the items in her arms, seeming even more surprised.

"I got you soda," she said quietly, motioning slightly.

"Well, don't mind if I do," he gave a bright grin, grabbing a bottle from her, unscrewing the top, and chugging its contents. Despite having appeased him, Ray's mind didn't linger in the moment. She couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened.

Was that woman... going to die?

The potential made her uncomfortable, but what was maybe even more chilling was what the man would likely do to her before that. Then he'd probably toss her in the river, and go about his life, scott free. Undoubtedly, just like he wanted, her death would be blamed on the recently escaped serial killer, you know, the one chugging a two-liter of Coca-Cola at her side. She looked over to Zack, and as she did, quite like many times before, a thought, a heavy thought, one so unlike that of a normal little girl, popped into her mind.

A euphoric ringing echoed in her ears. The sound of an epiphany.

Atone, Rachel Gardner.

"Hey," the girl said slowly after a moment, "Zack?"

Rachel's tiny voice was almost inaudible in his ears as he finished downing the carbonated beverage, belching loudl before he looked to her. "What?" He tossed the bottle on the ground.

"I," she trailed off, "I have a question."

Ugh. He swore, if this was about killing her again, he'd snap her neck. He let out a sigh of inconvenience. "What is it?" he dare ask. Ray's brow knit together, and it seemed like she had trouble formulating the right words.

"There's," she exhaled, "there's a man and a woman out back," Ray explained tepidly. Huh. That wasn't what he'd expected. The boy raised a bandaged brow.

"And?"

She didn't look up. "Will you," her sentence slowed to a full stop, unsure how to ask her next question. Again, she muttered, "Will, you—"

He rolled his eyes, annoyed with her vacant, wishy-washy rambling. "Spit it out already," he growled, lightly smacking his palm to the back of her head for emphasis. After a moment, Ray cranked back her neck to look at Zack in full. Her stark, azure gaze stared dead in his golden. He soon understood why she looked so very intense.

"Will you kill the man?"

Zack was almost awe-struck, and he echoed a light expression of surprise. He was almost taken aback by how seriously she stared at him. "What?"

"The man," she repeated simply, "will you kill him?"

Zack narrowed his eyes, thinking either he was confused, or maybe she'd finally split her lid. She was asking him to kill someone? (Well, besides herself, of course.) "Why?" he replied, almost incredulously. Ray only shrugged, as though it were nothing, and her explanation was blunt as it was true.

"He's going to do something bad to the woman if you don't."

Beyond confused, he let out a single, unhumored laugh. "What, and that matters to you?" He snatched the chips from her and tore open the seal. "Do it yourself, if you care so much." She paused.

"I can't."

A skeptical look. "And why not?"

She looked down at the bottles in her arms, then to his signature, curved blade. "I don't have your knife anymore," and certainly, his scythe was too heavy.

Zack shoved a handful of chips between his lips, speaking with his mouth full. "Hm. Sounds like an excuse to me," he read her for dead.

Downtrodden, the little girl looked at her feet. "What if he tries to kill me? I don't want him to kill me. I want you to kill me." A passive answer, one not entirely untrue. She almost felt bad though, as she knew he wouldn't appreciate her not being fully honest with him. Were half-truth's also lies, in the lord's eye? (They probably were, in those gold and asymmetric.) Slowly, Zack stopped crunching on his chips. He gave her a look of annoyance, searching for any sort of intentions that may be hidden behind her empty visage.

He knew full-well that Ray was more than capable of killing anyone in her way. He'd seen it. Hell, he'd nearly experienced it. So there had to have been more to it than that...

But, for whatever reason, she didn't want to do it herself.

An agitated noise reverberated from his lungs and hit the air; he shoved the bag of chips back to Rachel and she stumbled a bit from his force. "Fine," dusting the crumbs off his hands, he picked up his scythe, pointing his finger between the middle of Rachel's eyes, "but I hope you realize the bitch is dying, too."

"No," Ray said suddenly. "Just the man."

Zack looked at her as though she'd just said something ridiculous. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me?" he laughed, almost incredulously.

"If you're going to do it, just kill the man, please," she repeated. She gave him a dead-eyed, however sincere look, to which Zack paused for a moment to observe her. That expression on her face was as lifeless as it's always been, and yet, it sent a jolt of agitation creeping down his neck. "Will you do this as a favor, Zack? Please?"

Geez.

Ultimately, he obediently agreed.

"Fuckin'—fine, whatever." Babysitting, he'd come to realize, was rotten work. Especially if it was him. Especially if it was her. He'd fucking do it, but Christ alive. He turned away, treading towards the back of the building; Ray followed at a distance. He uttered a slight beneath his breath after a moment. "What, want me to tie your fuckin' shoes for you next?" She was such a chore. "Let's just make this fast."

"Thank you," she said politely.

After a moment, the duo stood behind a nearby dumpster. By the time they'd gotten around back, the gas station manager had shoved the girl against the wall as she cried and screamed as he brandished a switch blade now. She pleaded for him to stop, but he didn't, and Rachel only stared vacantly, expression more distant than normal.

The woman being attacked... she feared death.

It was so far from her. She'd never killed anyone, she never would. Rachel could tell; she'd even bet on it. After all, most people hadn't. Ray's lashes fluttered closed as she attempted to discern her own feelings with little success.

"Looks like he's got a knife," Isaac noted, surveying the situation. "Just stay here and I'll—" he looked to his side, suddenly realizing the absence of his partner.

She was walking right towards them.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, voice not much louder than a whisper, but it was too late. Her dragging footsteps echoed on the pavement, it signaled the attention of both the girl and her attacker. The man grunted in dismay.

"H-help!" the woman called the moment she saw Rachel. "Please, help me!"

A dark glare was shot in Ray's direction. "Beat it, Kid," the man hissed in a threatening manner. "Forget you saw nothin'."

Rachel disregarded him, speaking blankly. Overhead, a single droplet of rain drifted down from the gray sky, landing on the top of her hair. "This is your only chance. Let her go, now." After a moment of surprise, the man burst out in laughter. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a reaction from the little girl. Dropping his hold on the woman, she screamed and squirmed back, too terrified to move in full. "I'll give you from the count of three."

Almost amazed, the man exhaled a hallow laugh. "Is that right?" he humored her, and sure enough.

"Three," Rachel began to count.

"My," he took a step closer to her, footsteps slow as if he was waltzing down the street to get the paper, "got some real guts, don't ya, kid?"

Disregard. "Two."

"Y'know, now that I think about it," he hummed, as if contemplating something important, eyeing Ray up and down in a way that made his intentions clear. "Maybe you're right. How about I trade her in for the younger model?" Ray was unfazed by the slimey words that fell too easily from his chapped, pale lips. "How about it, Dollface, whaddaya sa—?"

So very suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence.

Slow, heavy footsteps echoed out from behind the dumpster. The assailants eyes filled with terror as his gaze locked on the crescent edge stained with blood. Ray didn't so much as flinch, or need to turn around. She knew that behind her now stood the infamous Back Alley Murderer—his shadow and figure cascading tall above hers.

"One."

And then, the air filled with impish, wild laughter. Before the man could even react, Zack's bloodlust grew satiated with a fell leap and swing. The blade of his scythe swept through the man's torso and his gaze went red. Crimson liquid spattered over his pristine bandaging.

And God—did he revel in it.

A terrified screech echoed across the way as the fallen woman scrambled to her feet. Screaming for dear life, she ran in the opposite direction, undoubtedly back to her car. Doing what few could ever say they managed, she'd fled from the mercy of Isaac Foster. Above, raindrops grew more rapid as they fell to the world below—mixing with the gooey red substance now caking the parking lot blacktop. Rachel gave nothing more than a blank expression as she looked on while Zack repeatedly plunged the pointed edge into the corpse. Truly, there were few things that could pull him from moments as precious as these, but what Ray would next say certainly caught his attention.

"Atone."

Gripping the metallic bar at peak swing, Zack paused. Panting as he'd worked himself up, the man looked over his shoulder. "'Scuse me...?"

"'Atone, Rachel Gardner'," she repeated clearly. "That's what Reverend Gray said to me." Zack gaped slightly, unsure if his fervor was causing him to misunderstand her, or if she was being serious.

"No offense, but," he looked to his scythe out of the corner of his vision, then back to her, "now's not really the best time?"

Transfixed, she disregarded him. "Do you know what this means, Zack?" she said, her tone a bit more in-the-moment than usual that it almost surprised him. Blinking absently, he could only reply with the truth.

"Uh, no?"

"That woman would've died," she took a few steps in his direction, kneeling down in front of him, "if I hadn't asked you to kill this man. "

Zack raised an eyebrow, beyond confused, slamming his scythe down in the battered chest finally. Oh, he so did not like where this was going. "The hell ya tryin'a say?" he spat. Her fingertips traced the blood spreading in a puddle around the corpse.

"I've killed... seventeen people." A twinge in her voice echoed above the rain, and the boy's brow knit together. she was keeping track? "But, now," she looked up to Zack, "we've just saved one." Afraid he was understanding her meaning, he dared not to inquire farther. "Zack, I," a pause, "I, want..." While her sentiment faded out in silence, somehow, Zack already knew what she meant. Oh, and truly, he couldn't help but wonder, fully, sincerely, from the bottom of his heart...

How the hell did this girl get crazier by the minute?

"Ya gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, Ray."

She looked up to him quickly, eyes somehow both vacant and distressed. "I—"

He motioned to the mangled, lifeless corpse they both hovered over. "You can't seriously think this is gettin' you a one-way ticket to salvation or some shit?"

"We did what needed to be done," she protested quickly, though her voice remained somehow monotone. For as dull Zack claimed to be, he certainly wasn't blind. "He could have killed her, you know it as well as I do!" If not better.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he spat, even if he couldn't deny her. "We literally just killed a guy!"

"It wasn't about killing him," she explained. "It was about saving her."

He couldn't believe what she was saying. He couldn't believe this was something he had to talk her out of. "Wasn't killin' people, playin' God's bitch, what got you in this situation in the first place?"

"This isn't like that, Zack!" she said sternly, and if nothing else, Zack realized she seemed to fully mean everything she was saying, insane as it was. "I wasn't passing judgement on the sins this man's committed!" She wasn't claiming a false divine verdict like she did with the people on her floor, and you could know she was telling the truth, because she had no selfish intention of sewing this man back together. "I did it to stop what he was going to do!" Rain wafted all around them, yet somehow, the puddle stained her mucky white dress the brightest shade of red, even still. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, her bloodied hands unconsciously meeting at chest level. Her pulse raced, landing on the same answer as before.

"We... saved an innocent life, Zack. Can't God... forgive me for that?"

Dear Lord in Heaven,

I beg of thee to look beyond my past and sins. Please, allow me to save others, and let me be saved. Forgive my hand, for never again will it draw pure blood. Please, please, plea—

Just then, her prayers were cut short by a firm hand grasping her neck. She gasped as her eyes snapped open to the sight of Zack visage in shadow. He wasted no time in slamming Rachel against the ground, knocking the wind out of her, hovering over her now as he pinned her down. In his other hand, he'd taken the dead man's weapon. He held it to the base of her throat, she felt the metal edge cold on her skin.

Do you want this, Ray? Do you really want this?

"Zack."

Cry, then. Cry if you really wanna live, if you wanna "save" anyone.

"I don't know if it'll work."

If you really want something, act like it, dammit!

"I just want to try."

Please, Ray—make this easy for me.

A crystal sonance echoed in her ear, even if she could atone—nothing would ever change the fact that she didn't deserve to live.

"Either way, I still need you to kill me."

The shadow over his visage retracted only a bit, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his asymmetric optics. Her azure gaze lent him a look of understanding.

"Please, Zack." She reached up, gently nudging the blade to the side, and he didn't resist. It was like time had stopped around them, all seemed to cease, the moment was unmoving. Her fingertips drifted to his bandage cheek, and on contact, his breath hitched, the feeling burning hotter than the coals of any fire on earth. If Hell was real, he was certain it was in the touch of Ray Gardner.

He had no idea how she could so easily justify whatever she wanted, all in that fucked-up mind of hers.

"You really stop at nothing to get what you want, do you?" Releasing his hand from her throat, his palm slid from her skin, past her shoulder; he propped himself up above her yet. "If you wanna go on some backwards redemption quest in the name of God, be my guest," his next slight came out as a mutter. "You still look like a lifeless doll, anyway." Her expression, almost ironically, lit with a certain hopefulness. "And if you don't wanna risk gettin' your precious little hands even dirtier, then I don't mind doin' the fun part." He could see it, her reluctance despite her ideals. That's why she asked him—the hobbyist on the matter, but given his daily agenda, he supposed it didn't much matter regardless.

"Zack," she exhaled his name, a strange sort of relief and gratitude in her voice.

A dark glint sparkled in his eye. Still propping himself up over the girl, never removing his golden gaze from hers, raindrops slid from the wet tendrils of his hair to her face. "And then, after all this is over..." It was a moment, but Ray took his meaning. Her empty heart welled with something distant—her palm unmoving from his cheek.

"It still has to be you."

"As long as you smile," a soft smirk appeared on his visage with their vow renewed, "it will be."