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𝐒𝐈𝐗 : 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃

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The trees swayed, back and forth, fighting with stubbornness against the force of wind. Their trunks moved and bended, slanting against the weather bubbling in the air. The leaves were flipped, showing their pale underbellies, indicating that it would rain and soon. Their forest green complexion vibrating against pallor, the darkness, the unnerving lack of blue.

The sky was a darkening gray, clouds billowing and moving through the air like the world was tilting. I imagined myself moving with it, as if someone had a hand on a globe and was spinning and spinning it until they couldn't see anything but colors.

The air was thick and heavy, a silent chill brushing over cheeks and hands and exposed limbs. Weather here never seemed to differ, we always got the same. Time and time again, the rain and clouds would come in like a husband returning from work after a long day. Predictable and loving and at times, distant.

I listened to the soft rustle and rumble of the wind that grew from the distance, inching closer and closer until the sound was right on top of me and whipping my hair around my head like a brown haze.

On my way out the door this morning, Amy had called out after me with an unfamiliar, "Make sure to drive carefully."

The morning had been fine, nothing to worry about. But her comment sent me into a frenzy of curiosity. She had returned home way past midnight and I awoke the front door closing harshly and laid there in my bed, still and listening. I'd heard her stumbling, as if drunk, and even swore to hear her speaking to someone on the phone.

Hushed whispers of complaints and plans and secrets.

"No, she doesn't know-"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Only food here is pizza and milk, you could've given me more money."

"I'll do it."

"He wasn't there, talked to everyone-yes, yes, I know-okay, I'll send him her way."

It had left me with an unsettled feeling in my gut, warning me to get her out of my house. To keep myself far from her for as long as I could, until I found out what she was planning. Or if she even worked for John at all. And her comment this morning, her persistence in making me hear what she was saying, left me nervous.

I went about my day as usual once arriving at school. Classes, break, class, lunch, more classes. I focused as much as I could but Amy's comment and her conversation last night made my body tense, my skin prickling. Something was wrong and I could feel it like a vibration.

When I was younger, I would get this same pit in my stomach like when I knew Cage's favorite sports team was going to lose, or when the clouds would get all dark and heavy before a big storm. It was the same feeling now, that something awful was going to happen and it was going to happen to me.

As I left school with the final bell ringing, I ran into an eager Blondie. I tried not to be confused by her enormous grin as she approached, but it was hard to do so when she mostly ever gave me scowls and glares. Sure, we'd been getting closer but I wasn't used to this side of her.

The friendliness. The kindness. The heart.

"Here," she held out her notebook. "It's my notes for the project, I was thinking you could just look them over and then we can discuss what else needs to be done?"

I gave her a grateful smile as I took it from her. "Awesome, I'll read through them tonight."

"Great!" she grinned, giving me a wave as she walked off towards her car.

I ducked under my own hand as I walked out after her, the rain coming down in steady, blinding sheets. It was cold against my skin, pelting me with sharp droplets as I raced through puddles to get to my car. Once inside, I patted my face with my shirt trying to dry my face that dripped with rain that made my cheeks slick.

I flicked my windshield wipers on and backed my way slowly out of the parking lot before driving off onto the main road after maneuvering past people at such an agonizingly slow pace to keep from splashing water. I fumbled for the radio, turning it on and then turning the heater on to get warm air against my chilled skin.

I should've known something was wrong as a sickly sweet scent pumped its way through my car. I didn't stand a damn chance once I turned the air on. It made my head foggy and my car jerked as the world and sky and everything around me shuttered out with the echo of glass breaking.

~

It was a dreamless state. A floating feeling.

I woke up somewhere dark. The air was suffocatingly cold.

My head pounded and my mouth tasted funny, my nose and throat raw, and I tried to sit up, knocking face first into something hard, feeling what seemed like dust sprinkle over my skin. I didn't know how long I had been here, I couldn't tell if it was night or day. As much as I strained my eyes, I couldn't see, and the same went for my ears as I couldn't hear anything but my own ragged breathing.

The side of my head throbbed and my skin was tight. I moved my hand, heavy like lead, to my face. I ran my fingers over the pain, feeling the raised skin and sucking in a breath at the sting.

I had been in my car before this and then everything was gone, in the blink of an eye. Did I get into a wreck? I remembered the strange smell from my vents, the one that made my body feel numb and weak. Someone must've put something in there to make me pass out, to kill me.

But why was I still alive?

I raised my hands, running them over what I was laying on and up the little walls on either side and then above me. It felt like wood, smooth. I knocked, the wood wasn't incredibly thick but the movement sent more dust over my face and I spat to the side.

I finally reached down, patting my pockets and feeling my phone. My other hand brushed against what felt like my bag and I felt a wave of relief, at least I still had my things. I pulled my phone out and the little light dimly lit the space and it was like the air was sucked completely from my lungs in a state of panic.

"No," I breathed, feeling sick. "No, no."

I was in a coffin.

Buried who knows how far down.

Doomed for a slow, forgetful death.

"Help!" I screamed before letting out a loud, booming wail, slamming my hands against the lid and kicking with my feet as I thrashed. "Somebody! Please!"

I clamped a hand onto my mouth, pressing down to keep from screaming again. I needed to be calm, I needed to conserve my oxygen. I've seen enough crime shows to know that I didn't have enough air to last me for too long. But my heart was racing and it felt like my body was heavy and not mine to control anymore.

Think, think-

My phone vibrated in my hand and I jolted, kicking my feet against the roof. I felt my heart pick up speed in my chest at the unknown number I knew far too well. How he got my personal number was beyond me, but I answered anyways in a harsh whisper, "I'm kind of busy right now."

"Where are you."

It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"You know."

"I know?" he scoffed.

"You're the one who put me here," I snarled, taking a small breath to steady myself. You need to relax, you need to be completely calm!

"Blaire," he said in a voice I knew, one that I was familiar with. "Where are you?" Now this was a question, soft, wondering, worried.

"You-" I swallowed, finding myself trusting him, as always, the fool. "-you didn't do this?" My voice was small, weak. It made my head spin and I bit down on my tongue, cursing myself for trusting him so earnestly.

"Where are you? What happened?"

It was weird to hear his voice after a month of radio silence. After Pandora, after the barn, he tried to call but I ignored him. I ignored everyone. That night, that horrible night, he was panicked and scared, but why? Why would he be so clearly rattled if he was the one to kill her?

Would any killer be able to mask it that well when talking to the girl they're trying to taunt? Wouldn't they mean to taunt? To harm? To hurt?

"I don't know," I whispered, using my free hand to push gently against the lid of the coffin. It wasn't nailed down but it would take a great deal of force to move and get free. "Buried."

Make sure to drive carefully. Make sure to drive carefully. Make sure to drive carefully.

Amy. Fucking Amy. It had to be.

"Listen-" I started but my phone beeped and I frowned, pulling it from my ear. I cursed, turning it off as the call disconnected because I didn't have a signal where I was. The fact that I even got a call was lucky enough but of course it wouldn't last forever.

Okay, think! What did all of those people in those shows do to get out?

I let my instincts control me and I pulled at my jacket, struggling to get it off in the small space. Once off, I tucked it away inside my bag, along with my phone.

Tie your shirt around your head, to protect yourself from breathing in the dirt around you.

I worked my shirt over my head, the cold air touching my bare stomach and sending a chill over me. I worked as well as I could to tie the end into a loose knot, my shirt like a bag over my head.

Now, push up on the lid of the coffin. You want to push as hard as you can, breaking it would be easiest.

Blindly, I hooked my bag over my head and under my arm before pressing both palms flat against the lid. I bent my legs up as much as I could until my knees were pressing forcefully against the wood. I let out a small breath, the air already thinning, I didn't have much time.

I struck upwards with all my might, arms and legs already straining against the weight of the earth, my body still weak and tired from whatever I had breathed in. I released the tension, resting before shoving, throwing my whole body into the push, even kicking my feet up with enough force that I heard a long groan erupt from the wood.

Okay, good enough.

I huffed, biting the inside of my cheek as if that would stop my need to gulp down the rest of my hair supply. My shirt was making me hot, sweat forcing across my cheeks and nose. I bit down too hard on my cheek and tasted blood and I went to work again.

I struck again, two more times until the groan of splintering wood was above my head and it only took one more push before the earth was falling all around me. I scrambled, feeling trapped under the broken wood and the falling pressure.

Come on, come on! Don't stop me now, not when I'm this close!

I used both hands to dig upwards, trying to get myself into a sitting position through the halved lid. Once I had gotten my feet underneath me, I crawled up. It was difficult to breathe, the air thick and earthly, deeper than a forest and fresh like rain.

The dirt was moist under my hands, cold from the storm. As I dug, my hands moved through mud and my mind whirled. Would I be able to climb out of mud? Would I suffocate in it? Would this be my true final grave?

I ignored it and kicked at my feet until my hand shot up through the surface. I padded the ground, using all my strength as my other hand was freed and I clawed at the ground until I was pulling myself up through the small, breaking hole I had created.

I gasped through my shirt, already yanking at the knot until it came undone and I could breathe again. I swallowed air through my mouth like a fish, feeling the coolness of it go through my lungs and into my choking chest.

It was dark out and I was in the middle of nowhere, as far as I could tell through the night. I was just thankful it wasn't raining anymore, but the ground was still slick with it. It was hard to drag myself free of my muddy cocoon, moving and writhing like a worm.

But once my middle and my legs were free, I got to uncomfortably stiff legs. I could hear the faint sound of cars in the distance and even the calls of birds, which gave me some peace of mind. There was still life here. There was still hope.

I stumbled towards a tree, gripping the bark as I rested. I needed to regain my strength, find a way out of here. So, I slid down the trunk until I was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily through my mouth.

I brought my bag into my lap, taking it off from around my head so I could get my shirt on properly. I pulled my jacket out, feeling the true depths of the cold creep in through the trees. With my arms through the sleeves, I patted the inside pocket and smiled, glad to know Spiorad was still here with me.

Next, as if I were following guided steps, I brought my phone out.

It was close to eleven and I cursed, I don't think I would've been able to survive down there from the time I got out of school until now. Whoever had taken me had held my body somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to take an unconscious girl out into the forest to bury her.

Could it truly have been Amy? Were her warnings this morning just a sad coincidence or on purpose? Tactical?

Her conversation the night prior had sparked more suspicion in me, besides her comments about Crow and Ace. She was playing out some bigger game and I had trusted her too easily, one of my biggest faults.

Hadn't my blind trust come back to bite me in the ass on more than one account already? Shouldn't I have learned my lesson by now?

The moon was bright against the stark sky beyond the evergreen leaves that moved slowly with residual wind. Was this just another tarot card coming into play? Would they be bound to me just as I feared?

I had almost forgotten the cards and their meanings. It felt so long ago when I'd gone to Madam Wrath in her little trailer, not even realizing at the time she was dead. My powers had failed me, like they had with the woman in the church. How many other times had they failed me?

My phone rang in my hands and I numbly clicked accept and brought it to my ear. "Hello?" I croaked, I hadn't even bothered to check the name or number.

"Your location. Now."

I sent him my location without as much as a second thought. I didn't bother with the rest of the conversation, hanging up and sliding my phone back into my bag. I needed to rest, completely, to focus on my breathing and the fact that I had just been buried alive like I was nothing but another body.

Another prize to be dug deep for safe keepings.

It was strange, because I found myself crying. Shoulders shaking, throat tightening, chest burning, as tears wept from my eyes. I didn't know why I was sobbing so suddenly and so violently, as if I were an untamed beast finally feeling free for the first time.

I could've died down there if I hadn't woken up. I could've died without a real fighting chance. And all of that? Terrified me. Made my body feel sluggish with panic, heavy and loose and unprepared.

What if the car accident had killed me instead? What if I had hit my head just right against my window or steering wheel, or whatever, and had died then? My own mortality had always scared me but this put things into perspective. Life was fragile, life could be lost so easily and I saw that.

I should've been seeing that.

Pandora's own life was taken easier than most. Her throat slit with precision.

I sucked in a deep breath through my mouth, thankful to be breathing, for the air that I could inhale with no difficulty. I wiped at my face with both hands and winced when my fingers rubbed against the gash I had acquired. It wasn't too large but it was definitely deep enough to leave a dried trail of blood down my cheek and into my hair, now matted with mud.

It would just be another scar. Another mark to show the world what it's done to me. What it made me do, what it made me see.

I needed a shower. A hot one this time, to warm what was frozen in the earth. I needed that comfort and I started to cry again because I understood what I needed, more than anything.

I needed a friend.

I needed a friend to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay, to let me know I wasn't alone. Not ever. But she was taken from me and not even my powers could make her show herself to me.

She was just as lost as I was. Even more so.

I forced myself back to my feet with a sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I listened for cars and followed the sound, I couldn't just sit out here and wait for Crow to come and throw me back into that coffin.

At least I have my knife, I reminded myself as I trudged along.

Right, left, right, left, went my legs like a robot. It was easy to tell my body that this was how it was always going to be. Me. Leaving a crime scene. Exhausted and ruined.

I could see the bright lights of a car not far in front of me, causing me to hold an arm up to block the lights from blinding me. I squinted out, but kept moving, watching the car door fly open and a figure move with the grace of an animal.

A predator searching desperately for its prey.

He was beautiful, even in the dark. I couldn't help but reach out to him as he grew nearer. I could almost feel the warmth radiating from him, calling out to me, luring me in. I ignored the warnings in my head, my own fear, and welcomed the comfort I so desired.

He was solid and warm as I fell against him, my legs suddenly weak. He held me close to him, a hand gripping underneath my arm to keep me upright and the other lost in the mess that was my hair. He cradled the back of my head, and I pressed my face into his neck, the feeling of his skin against mine was intoxicating.

I need this, I tried to convince myself. I needed this, I needed this.

"Who did this to you?" he breathed, stepping a fraction of a step away from me to take my face in both of his hands. He was searching my eyes and face for any injuries and when he found it, his frown deepened into a scowl. Even his brows knitted together and I could see the rage underneath the strange calm in his eyes.

"Amy," I whispered, shaking my head as a confused look crossed his face. "I-I think."

He didn't know her, not like I did.

His thumb rubbed under my eye and across my cheek in a slow stroke, sending something dangerously fluttering to my stomach. I reached up, wrapping a hand around his wrist as the other gripping his arm, feeling the muscle that strained.

He dropped his hands, taking my arm. "Come."

I let him drag me along back to his car, and I think the reality of the situation finally dawned on me. I shouldn't be going somewhere alone with him. I shouldn't even be near him, but how else was I supposed to get home? I didn't even know how far home was from here.

I pulled back on his grip, planting my feet as I started rushing out, "Wait, no, stop-"

He froze, turning to look at me and I yanked my arm back. His brows furrowed and my heart leapt to my throat as I snarled out, "Why the hell are you here?"

"Can we not argue right now?" he said instead of answering my question. "Big storm is headed this way-"

"No!" I shouted, balling my hands into fists and pressing my nails into my palms. I needed that pain, that distraction to keep me from doing something I regretted. "You-" I swallowed, shaking my head. "-you don't get to come here and act like-like this!"

"Blaire," his voice was a warning and I took it head on.

"Go to hell," I hissed, stomping past him because I knew if he touched me again, I wouldn't be able to stop myself, but from what, I didn't know.

That, of course, didn't stop him from snatching my wrist and stopping me dead. I whirled on him, pushing him back with shocking strength as I yelled, "Don't you dare touch me!"

He stumbled back a few steps and I could see the anger over his face as he snapped back, "I just drove around for an hour and a half looking for you, so get your ass in the car. Now."

"No!"

"I'm not going to ask you twice."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You'd rather walk the hour back home, then?" he said, crossing his own arms and I scowled.

Remember what he did, even if you're doubting that he did it. Remember that he isn't who he seems.

"I'm not going anywhere with a killer."

"Blaire, please," he said in that damn voice I recognized. Him, begging, pleading.

Thunder clapped, loud and angry, above our heads and I flinched at the sound. I looked back at him and forced myself to nod and start walking to his car as I grumbled out, "No funny business."

He held his hands up and I heard him chuckle, and I had to ignore the fact that the sound drove a strange feeling to my gut as I stalked towards his car.

I hadn't realized his car was the sleek black one I had seen in the Clandestine parking lot the day of Gretchen's funeral. The one I had admired for so long. It made me angry, knowing this belonged to him all along.

I threw the door open and got into the passenger seat, finding the car incredibly clean and neat. It was like the car didn't even belong to him with the absence of a mess or even a presence. I shifted so I was as close to the door as I could, just in case he intended to reach over and kill me here.

The rain came down the second we began our drive home on the interstate. It came down so hard and fast, I could barely see out the windshield and Crow was thinking the same thing I was when he pulled off at the closest exit.

We were blinded by dark gray, pounding rain, the only thing we were able to see were the lights of a motel and a gas station. We drove slowly, the roads already experiencing some flooding.

"We can wait out the weather here," he said before parking the car at the motel and getting out of the car. I watched his silhouette through the downpour, his jogging figure disappearing inside the motel check in booth.

I let the drumming rain drown out the noise around me, feeling my heart rate pick up its familiar horrified beat. It had been hard to keep myself calm this entire ride, my hands balling up the muddied fabric of my jeans to keep myself from clawing at my own skin. It was trouble to stomach him so close to me, to know how he made me feel even after what he'd confessed to doing. But those droning thoughts still echoed.

Why was he so clearly scared if he was the one to kill her? To kill what was most dear to me?

He threw open the passenger side door and I yelped, jumping in my seat as he barked out, "Got us a room, come on!"

I grabbed my bag and followed him into the hurricane weather, jogging through puddles that soaked my pant legs and boots. He passed by two doors before nearing the one that must've been ours and he unlocked it with ease and we stumbled inside like wet dogs.

The room was dark and musty, like something had rotted here before us. I kept myself by the open door as he flipped the lights on. There were two thin beds with identical dark green and red blankets, the pillows a strange beige-like yellow. The brown wallpaper was peeling and the brown carpet had an assortment of different stains and patches missing.

I was afraid to sit on the bed.

"I'm going to run over to the gas station," Crow announced, running a hand through wet hair. "Anything you want to eat?"

"Surprise me," I mumbled, walking numbly to the bathroom with my bag clutched to my chest.

I didn't wait to see him leave before I locked myself in the disgusting bathroom. The shower was a different story, differing completely from the grunge behind the closed door. It was clean, pristine and perfect white.

Even when I turned the water on, it wasn't a gross yellow as I expected, but clean and clear. I stripped my dirty clothes off and stopped, naked as the day, to wash them in the warm water of the shower. I cleaned them free of mud before hanging them up to dry, not bothering with my jacket as I would need something clean to wear, just for a little while.

The water was searing to the touch when I entered and I knocked to the side, gripping the cold wall as it stung the cut on my face. I had taken a quick glance at it in the mirror, horrified with the torn flesh and the dried blood that was crusted into my eyebrow and streaked down my cheek like tears.

I cupped my hands and gently cleansed the wound the best I could, cursing myself for not asking Crow to get a first aid kit. I cursed again, tempted to bash my fist into the wall at the thought of him.

Dressed in his stupid black dress pants and shoes, but with his white shirt unbuttoned to expose the white shirt underneath like he had just been interrupted while changing to find me, like a burden.

I looked up towards the water, holding my breath as it pooled over my face and down my body. I only stepped back to inhale and get to work scrubbing. My nails were caked with dirt and it still clung to my neck and stomach. I was amazed that my face wasn't coated in the thick mud I had crawled from, my makeshift shirt mask had done the job well. I shuddered at the thought of my grave, the little coffin still buried deep enough that no one would've heard my screams.

The only welcoming thought was that I would see Pandora at the end of it all. That I would finally see my mother.

It sucked the fear from my chest and I faced the water again and let it drown me until I felt whole.

Once done with the shower, I wrapped myself in one of the fluffy towels, ignoring the small brown stain I found on the end. I was surprised to find a clean shirt and a pack of women's underwear on the counter by the door and I paused.

I hadn't even heard the door open.

Had he seen me?

No, I thought firmly, shaking my head as I reached for the pack of underwear. Thankful that I didn't have to put dirty ones back on, I tore open the pack and laughed to myself. The underwear was big and a light pink, definitely not the typical ones I'd wear but they'd make do for however long we were here for.

I dressed in the underwear and the shirt he'd gotten me, which came almost to my knees and was a royal blue with the words 'World's Best Father" written across in faded white cursive. I ignored how ridiculous this was and grabbed my bag I had tucked away in the corner and dried my hair one last time with the towel before exiting the bathroom slowly.

Crow sat on one of the beds, the television on with a woman speaking about the weather. I caught a glimpse of the radar she was explaining and groaned, multiple tornado sightings and winds ranging from forty to seventy miles per hour. I could hear it raging from outside, the shutters on our windows rattling violently and the trees were blowing nearly horizontal.

"Might be stuck here until morning," Crow muttered, popping some type of chocolate into his mouth. I dropped my bag on the bed with my jacket I had grabbed too, knowing Spiorad was tucked away inside the pocket just in case I needed her.

Crow wore long black sweatpants he must've bought at the gas station, along with a dry black shirt, his without fun writing. I scowled at him, wondering why I had to be stuck with the father shirt when he got a normal one.

His hair was still wet and there was a shine across his face, telling me he must've just gotten back not too long ago. He wasn't wearing any shoes, no socks either, and seeing him like this sent my stomach into knots. He looked so normal, not at all like the criminal he was. How easy it was for a murderer to conceal himself, to be human like me for once in his long life.

"Why didn't I get any pants too?" I blurted out and he drew his eyes from the television and to me and shrugged. He didn't say much of anything but I could see the smirk clear in his face as he watched the weather woman explain to her viewers to steer clear of roads.

He wants you like this, he wants you vulnerable. To make you uncomfortable, scared. He wants to rip you open.

"I got you chips," he said, leaning forward to reach into one of the bags he'd brought back with him. He tossed me a bag and I fought with myself as I smiled, hating that I did so as I whispered, "These are my favorite."

"Sour cream and cheddar? Really?" he said and the smile was clear in his eyes. "It was a lucky guess."

I opened the bag and the smell wafted up and my mouth watered. I devoured half of them before I even sat down on the bed. Licking my fingers, I folded one leg under me as I sat down and reached for one of the water bottles he had on his bed. He watched me the whole time, those damn hazel eyes following my every movement from the time I cracked the bottle open and took a long drink.

As I wiped the water from my lips that spilled past them, he shifted and said, "Tell me about Amy."

Lighting flashed outside and I ignored how loud it cracked as I explained to him who she was and how she came to me, even noting my growing suspicions of her.

"You shouldn't trust John," Crow said after a long moment of digesting what I'd told him. He emptied the little bag of candy into his palm and picked out a couple greens and ate them as he spoke, "And you shouldn't trust Amy, I've heard of him."

"Him?" Wasn't Amy a girl?

"The demon, Amy, is a male but he likes to possess girls, easier targets."

I nodded, taking note of that change. "What have you heard about him?"

He ate a few blues now, taking the four remaining with a sigh. "Amy's a trickster, always has been. He does anything to get the upper hand, to cheat. He only cares about himself."

"Did you work with him or something?"

Crow nodded. "In the nineties, just for a few months before his true colors were shown."

I dug my hand in my bag of chips, already feeling just the leftover crumbs. "And why can't I trust John? I get that he's a demon, I'm not stupid, but he really helped me out-"

"Yeah, helped you with little Ace Dolion," he scowled, shaking his head. "Both those boys are trouble, always have been."

"What do you know that I don't?"

I watched him sort through the remaining colors in his palm, separating the reds from the yellows and the yellows from the oranges. It made him seem so human that it made my skin crawl. Who was this man before me? Who was he really?

"I know as much as you but I know Cage has warned you against them, and I'm sure some of your other little..." He smiled. "...friends have, too."

Ghosts. He meant the ghosts.

"They saved me, from Conner," I whispered, barely able to meet his eye as I remember that horrible night. It made me cold all over, something sickly passing through me at the thoughts of what happened to me. What happened to her. "He was going to kill me if they hadn't stepped in when they did."

"And you think they were saving you for you?" he sneered, shaking his head and ignoring his pattern with the colors and throwing them all back together. He said in between chews, "John Walker has always had his own agenda, he's just waiting to use you at the perfect moment. You're nothing but a tool."

"Aren't I the same to you?" I breathed and finally met his daunting eyes. Could we have been friends outside of this life? Could something ever have happened for us to achieve that? Or would it always be this game, this painful back and forth?

"It's different."

"How?" I scoffed. "How is it any different? And we don't even know if John is bad, okay? We don't know anything because he ran off to play with Ace and Conner!"

"They abandoned you, don't you get it?" he said in a softer voice, coming to sit on the edge of his bed as the wind picked up outside, the rage sounding like howling. The images on the small television danced across his face, the colors painting a soul against his deadly skin. "They left you."

I shook my head, looking away from him to keep myself calm. I breathed deeply, holding it and then releasing, trying to keep myself in line. But I couldn't help myself, not with him, and not when it came to her. "I don't have anyone left and it's because of you. You took the only person left for me."

He didn't speak, his eyes trained on the floor and on his hands.

"Did she beg for her life?" I whispered, hearing the edge in my voice as I scooted to the edge of my own bed, getting closer to scolding him. I needed him to look me in the eyes, tell me what he did, how he did it. "Did she understand what you were going to do to her? Did she cry? For god's sake, what were her last words, Crow? What did she say before you butchered her-"

He stood and the force of him scared me. He stood near the television and it still felt like he was towing over me, ready to take me by the throat and show me what it really felt like to beg for a life.

I licked my lips and tasted my fear. "Did she see it coming or did you surprise her like you did my father?"

I thought he would come for me but he turned on his heel and marched to the door, throwing it open with frightening strength and leaving me alone in the room. The wind was screaming outside and the lights flickered in the room and I had the strange urge to follow him out into the storm, to apologize, but I held my ground.

He did this to himself. He would get no pity.

_____________

mmm the blaire + crow chapter no one asked for hehe

big time question:: do YOU think crow killed pandora?? 

vote/comment or you'll never find out what happened to pandora