Forever and ever, as well as he knew,

They were alone.

He had never rested.

Leroy didn't think He even could.

Tonight, the nightmare began anew under that familiar speckled sky. Leroy had heard something snap outside his cottage home while eating what food he could make for himself. Tonight, the same as last night, some stew of various edible vegetables.

At first, he thought that sound of cracking was from the fire, winding down in its flame, reducing to glowing embers and ash. Then, its source shifted from his left to right, and the knot in his chest tightened as his ears followed it.

He held his breath so that it wouldn't be so loud in his ears, and looked up to the front doorway of his cottage home. Again, rustling outside the door made itself known, and a saturated black figure made itself just barely visible out the glass window.

Even if the danger was so immediate, it took Leroy a moment to move from his statue state of small stature. Paralysis, such a pain, when fear strikes as instantaneous like lightning. And then, it was gone.

Leroy had to run, run while he had the chance before the spell wore off, run like death was on his tail.

Leroy couldn't help but kick the floor out from under him, knocking over the food he had made himself with his quick rise. It spilt out over the floor as he ran to the back door to his right, and Leroy cared not to give it a second thought.

He only caught a glimpse behind him before he shut the door- his pursuer was looking weary down at the spilt soup on the floor. Leroy didn't see anything else, as he couldn't spare another moment, dashing out the door and quickly shutting it hard behind him.

To the left- the blindspot corner. He could dash past Him before He realized and reached cover. If only Leroy could get to the forest- the vines and stumps he knew well, he could lose Him in the black mess.

The moonless night showed no remorse for his situation, the darkness that crept into his soul and drowned him in fear. There was no breeze to speak of to lull him into mulled comfort, there was nothing that could provide him safety except for the inky black forest from which He came.

Nothing, nothing even paled in comparison to exactly what fear he faced in his own mind, save only for the man milling around inside his cottage home. His eyes welled with painful tears that clung on for dear life, as if they too didn't want to face the man inside.

The door opened, a faint creek sound coming from its weather-worn hinges. He stepped out from it, and the firelight from inside only illuminated His back. Such thin shoulders for someone so deadly, Leroy thought, studying his enemy.

He looked to His left, then to His right, and stepped out further. He had not yet seen Leroy, silent in the shadow of night, careful to be as still as the solid wood he was sitting up against. It was so quiet, Leroy thought he could hear His heartbeat.

His stomach was up in a knot in his chest, fear manifesting itself in the form of real agony. He didn't have time to indulge in this terrible feeling, there was no room for hesitation nor failure.

He noticed something. From this position, he could, if he dared, kick His legs so that He would lose his balance and fall. Then, he'd run like hell into cover. Wouldn't be easy, but he might be able to.

It took all of Leroy's courage to even stand up on his feet, even when he did he nearly lost balance. Standing alone in the shadows, he could see Him, still as a statue, backlit orange from lantern light.

Leroy thought to himself, though, Now or never. If he lingered too long in one spot, He'd surely find him. It wasn't too long until He did anyway, might as well postpone the inevitable. Leroy had to stifle a sniffle before He heard him and his fear cry out into the night.

No time to think, barely any time to do.

He ran out towards Him, trying to move faster than the sound that would alert the stalker to his desperate attempt. He only looked over his shoulder at Leroy for a split second. And there, on full display, bloody eyes staring at him like through the door's window, attached to a body unable to move quick enough. He swiftly kicked His legs down, and He crumpled like He'd been hit by a tidal wave.

That was all he could manage to do before Leroy ran like hell towards the shores and the patch of tar-drenched trees. Step after hastened step, like the world was his own treadmill, trampling the grass under his tattered shoes to get away as best he possibly could. The tears just kept coming, clouding his vision.

Even so, he was dead set to escape. No room for error, no time for the pain he was now feeling in his legs and chest. He cursed the stones under his semi-bare feet, and couldn't see out of his watery eyes, and couldn't inhale any other than shallow puffs of air so quickly he couldn't make use of them.

He couldn't breathe- focus.

He couldn't feel fear- focus.

He couldn't trip and fall- focus.

He couldn't taste the grass under him- focus..?

He was on the ground, face first, dazed and still. Something hot on the back of his head spread slowly. From behind, there was a soft rustling noise that he couldn't make out until it was right beside him.

He turned onto his back as fast as he could, staring up at the man who he thought he could outrun. He didn't show any expression on His face except for one: the Joy of Anticipation, with cold, red eyes.

The pursuer knelt down to his side, He didn't speak at all. His eyes, now something that Leroy had the absolute displeasure to see up close, were dark with the memories of Leroy, but wide with His curiosity and fondness of His prey.

Leroy felt rough, warm hands by his arm, by his neck, Around his neck, slowly clamping down so that he couldn't breathe. Leroy shot up pleading eyes, begging with all his existence for mercy, and desperately trying to screech tight words out of his throat. This had no effect on Him. pinned to the ground, alone in his fear, nothing to say, nowhere to go.

His calloused skin and His tight grip paid no heed to Leroy's desperate hands, clawing for dear life, grabbing handfuls of his skin, digging with his nails, anything to make Him even loosen his grip a little. He felt his arms and hands grow weak against the towering man, and the same darkness of night invade his vision so that even the bright stars turned away from his cold body lying there.

One, lone teardrop fell down his face as his hands- still around His hands- fell limp. There wasn't anything behind his eyes now, fading from the light of life. Then, darkness of night consumed not only his vision, but his body too. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing, and a painful state of quiet embraced him.

✷

On the blackish-blueish grass, discolored from the lack of light, there lay a stone, wet from Leroy's blood. right beside his body, mostly intact, aside from the seeping wound on the back of his head. There was time, for now, to eat. Sunrise would not come for a long time, now, and the body wouldn't fade for a while with him being so close to it.

He moved the stone he had thrown at Leroy; it hit its target regretfully well. There were strands of his smooth black hair on it, completely drenched in his blood.

His hair framed his full face, and his thin, greenish eyes, that were left open still, with the same guise of fear he had just a moment before. So, he knelt down and closed them.

He took up Leroy's hand gently and held it up near his face to inspect it. His fingers were worn from the work he did. He had to tend to his own food, to his animals, and to his own little corner of his world.

He sighed bitterly, then spoke, with grief in his words. "Leelee, you'd understand, someday."

With that, he brought it to his mouth, hesitated a moment, then bit into the skin. Instantly, blood began rushing out of the wound, and dripped down onto Leroy's clothing and the grass under them.

Warm, sweet, blood that reminded him of a honey-drenched penny- that unmistakable metal taste masked by a horrible sweetness. It made him just sick, but he couldn't do anything about it; its either eat or starve.

He could see the tendons under all the blood pouring out, soft clumps forming and falling down onto the ground. He looked down at his hands as he ate, staring down in awe at his blood, a distinct color of black in the night's ambient glow. It shone like the waves of water, placid in their tides this time of year.

He took another bite, and felt something hard, almost like stone. Not bone, he thought, he had not bitten deep enough to reach that, but maybe just cartilage. He made a sour face, and immediately felt put-off by his actions, both prior and present. He slurped what blood he could from the wound, and then delicately put Leroy's hand back down onto his torso.

It satisfied his hunger, for a time, so he had no reason to stay. He stood up from the mess he had made, and stared down at Leroy's body once more. Nothing came to mind to say over his corpse, he was drawing a blank.

He stared at Leroy's broad shoulders and drawn lips for some while, though, and saw that he was at more peace than he'd been in some time. His lips very briefly turned into a faint smile, before he felt the glaze of the sticky blood's remnant's on his fingers. He killed his relief, and his scowl returned to that of quiet contemplation.

Then, he looked up towards the horizon, and saw nothing but a blank expanse of ocean. There wasn't anything out there but the thin shadow of the moon, who had abandoned them for the night, and sun, that wasn't anywhere to be seen. It wouldn't rise for some time now.

The sea's tide was always constant on this isolated isle, and often he wondered why. He knew better than to expect that of the world, he'd known of the ocean's constant struggle of the tide's dance. He was taught that. Yet, When he fished, scoured, and scavenged, no sign of previous humans made themselves known, and here then, they were.

When he looked down at where the body was, as if magic had swept him away, Leroy was gone. The rock had stayed, as well as the blood that dripped on the grass blades. The imprint of Leroy's body was still there, but the grass was recovering from the trauma, and slowly lifting back up into its former position.

His sin was commit, so he had no business there anymore. He turned to the rocky hills in the distance, or where he knew they were thanks to memory. He could do one more thing, but then, he'd be off.

By the time he was done, the base of the horizon, closest to the water, was a soft blue. The oranges and yellows of the sun were soon to rise with it, and by then, Andrew would have had to be long gone.