#elewens

Scott rests his hand gently on your shoulder and you stop instantly. You take a deep breath in, calming your mind. You look into his eyes, and his gaze meets yours, full of emotion. “I hate myself,” you whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear it. Scott leans in closer to you, his face only one inch from yours, his breath tickling your face. His thumb brushed your tear off your cheek slowly, and then comes back to stay on your face, his hand cupping your cheek in a comforting embrace. Your eyes lock again, and a feeling overwhelming calm floods through your body. You both lean inch by inch, until his lips touch yours lightly, then pull away. You both it staring into each other’s eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells you. “We’ll figure it out.” You nod slowly, once. Then twice. You press your lips to his again, his kiss warming your body from head to toe, a tingling feeling spreading through your bones. Your lips move against his easily, naturally. Your lips tangle with one another, your breaths coming together as one. You feel so right, so loved. You plunge your hand into his hair, ruffling it and pulling on it lightly. You feel the vibration of his soft moan as his tongue slips gently into your mouth. You sigh, leaning even closer into him. “Thank god for tinted windows,” Scott laughs between breaths, and you giggle under your kiss. Slowly, carefully, you swing your legs over so that you’re straddling his hips tightly, your bodies pressing deliciously close to one another. Your lips fight, each helpless against the other. Scott moans quietly again, his mouth traveling to pepper soft kisses along your jaw, each one bigger than the last. When he moves to your collar bone, you hear yourself letting out small whimpers in response to his open mouthed kissing, no doubt leaving a trail of marks along your collarbone. You groan in satisfaction as his lips collide with yours again, and you roll your hips against his own. He cough out a strangled noise as you continue to roll them. You keep this up, your kiss becoming more heated, and all you can think is more, more. You want more. 

You pull your head back suddenly, your head smacking against the wall behind you with a thud. You massage it, cringing, but your attention is on the street outside. Both your stares stay on the source of the noise, the pounding of feet thundering outside the car window. You listen carefully, then jump back as the man runs in a blur past you. The sky outside is dark, the sun having just set. The blinking lights of the bar sign cast light into the small space of Scott’s car. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are to Scott, and climb back across the console, sharing a heated look with him, smiling slightly. You focus back on the businessman, but find his car gone. But slowly, you shift your eyes to the dark figure beside where it was parked. You gasp when you see the man in the vision, standing idly on the curb, swaying back on his forth on his feet menacingly. He feels like a ticking time bomb, desperate for release. A terrifying glint sparkles in his eyes when he flicks them around, scanning the empty road around him with careful examination. You see the reflection of light against his knife, scattering the light of the neon sign outwards. He taps the knife against his palm methodically, to the tick of his own clock. You feel something inside your stomach twist watching his movements. You hear Scott gulp, and look over at him, knowing he feels the same way. “He got away,” you breathe, the words not making sense as they exit your mouth. You don’t believe what’s in front of your eyes. You shake your head through your muddled thoughts, confused. “Does that mean he doesn’t die? Do you think we did it?” Scott asks to no one in particular. “I don’t know what it means,” you respond, your eyes trailing the killer as he leans nonchalantly against the wall, directly under the flashing sign of the bar. He slips his knife into his pocket quickly, hiding it. He starts whistling a tune, a sound that sounds haunting in the dark of night. You and Scott watch him for a few minutes, studying him as he whistles his song, shuffling his feet every now and then. You see something move in your peripheral vision, moving your gaze. Immediately your eyes widen, your heart beginning to beat faster. A girl in her twenties stumbles out of the bar, giggling boisterously. You watch as the man pushes off the wall with his hands, approaching the girl. Your breath hitches as he gently caresses her arm, his smile crafted, the evil glint left behind. He looks at her charmingly, and she smiles amusedly at him, oblivious. “Hey,” he says guilelessly. She again, covering her mouth with her hand, her ankles buckling under her. 

You nearly scream as he rolls her into his chest by his grip on her arm. He holds her tightly around the neck. Her eyes are awake now, staring ahead with hot panic. She opens her mouth in an attempt to scream, her sound cut off by his increasingly tight grip around her throat. She grabs frantically at his hands to no avail, his grip stone. You watch in terror as he plunges the knife into her chest once, her body quivering once, twice, the going still and limp. He rips it out, only to strike again, and again, and again. He stabs her a total of twenty times, his face straight and stoic the whole time, staring at a spot above him. There is only a gaping hole left where her chest used to be, organs exposed to the world, to the frigid night air. Eventually he drops her, a smug grin finally spreading across his face. Twisting the knife around in his hands, he breathes in deeply, as if satisfied. A pool of blood spans out beneath his feet, his hands already stained dark with it. He steps away from the scene but stops, his eyes landing on the window of Scott’s car. The windows are tinted enough that he can’t really see in, but both of you hold your breath. The man stares right at you, shivers marching up your back, his gaze frighteningly cold. Very, very slowly, he turns back around, not sparing the girl a second glance before sprinting in the other direction, disappearing into the darkness. You squeeze your eyes shut, using every ounce of energy to keep your scream inside. You clench your eyes tighter, never daring to open them. You feel a tear stream down your face, and feel the weight of Scott’s concerned expression. You hear him exhale outside yourself, nothing registering but the thoughts running through your head. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense, doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t. You hear the start of the engine and open your eyes, still not looking at Scott. You feel the car start to move under you, the darkness blurring past your window as he starts to drive back in the direction of home. The farther you get from the crime scene, the stronger the guilt grows inside you, churning in your stomach with each passing second. You cry silently along the way. You are rounding the corner to another street when your vision becomes fuzzy at the edges, then completely dark. “No! No, no, no, no,” you scream, staying aware just long enough to hear Scott calling your name, and pulling over to the side of the road. 

The scene appears before your eyes, the familiar road and sign filling you with overwhelming dread. Your body trembles, and you clamp your teeth together to keep from crying. The murder you’ve seen too many times plays in front of your eyes once again, the man, laving work late at night, briefcase held in his hand. The killer, creeping swiftly behind him, reaching around his body until his hand reaches his throat, knife in hand. The knife slicing through his throat, revealing things that should be in the body, causing your dinner to rise up in your throat. You suddenly wish you hadn’t eaten that night. You’re jolted back to the present, your food threatening to spill over. Ignoring Scott’s pleas, you slam the door open and fall over to the side of the road, emptying the contents of your stomach. you wretch, and then throw up again, until nothing but bile remains in your stomach. You let go of an agonized scream, the pain ripping through you like razors. You scream and scream, and sob, animalistic sounds shredding through your bones. You sink down to your knees before falling right to the ground, the cold of the pavement seeping into your shoulder. You try to draw in air, try to breathe, you want so desperately to breathe, to scream, to project the pain in your heart out, away. Air, you need air. You breathe in a rush, small amounts of air reaching your lungs, but not enough, not enough to scream, to think, to survive. After all, you think, maybe you don’t need to survive. Perhaps you don’t need to live anymore, in this horrid reality. You scrunch your nose as the smell of your discarded food reaches your nose, but you can’t bring yourself to move away from it, tears rolling fast down the curves of your cheeks. The cold is replaced by warm as Scott gathers you into his arms with care, carrying you gently into the car, setting you back in the passenger seat. You feel a void in your heart as you start nearing your house again. You fix your stare ahead, your cheeks streaked with dried tears. Scott pulls into your driveway, pulling his key out of the ignition. You continue to look forward, never bringing yourself to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see inside them, afraid most of what he’ll see inside yours. Mechanically, you open the door and propel yourself towards the door. You walk your way up your stairs and to your bedroom, immediately collapsing onto your bed, not bothering to change your clothes. You hear Scott over you, and can feel his concern for you, You refuse to meet his eyes, everything except the pain blocked out from your mind. He comes over to you slowly and presses a light kiss on your head. He exhales, leaving, the door closing on his way out. Somewhere, in another world, you feel bad for ignoring him. You lay, staring in front of you, for a long, long time, thoughts failing you. Eventually, exhaustion rests on your shoulders heavily.