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The sun was setting that day when the blonde girl came out into her backyard, barefoot, letting the damp grass tickle her feet.

She wore shorts and a tank top, which was odd, because the temperature had dropped dramatically since that afternoon, when he had seen her drive out for groceries.

He peered out the window, watching through the blinds as she tilted her head up, eyes wide open, facing the stars. They reflected in her eyes, making the irises shimmer a thousand shades of blue, purple, and even a little pink.

The girl looked magical, in all honesty. She looked majestic. She looked... ethereal.

Edmund watched as she opened her arms, closing her eyes, and soaked in the starlight.

He saw her lips move, but couldn't quite read what she had said.

"Bee!" A deep voice called, so loud even Edmund could hear it inside his room. "Honey Bee, come inside! You'll catch your death out there!"

The blonde girl sighed softly, dropping her arms and opening her eyes. She stayed staring upwards for a few moments, and Edmund was able to clearly read her lips.

"I miss you."

Then, she turned and jogged back inside. Now, Edmund was all the more curious.

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He was thrown into a dank, dark cell. The metal door clanged shut behind him, so he knew it was closed, but he couldn't see it. He didn't know if he could ever see again.

Trix had said it for him, that word he didn't want to hear, didn't want to say on his own. Blind. He was blind. One-hundred percent.

Edmund curled up in one of the corners, feeling a cool draft on the side of his face. He wondered if there was a window somewhere on one of the walls, or maybe it was just from the cell door in front of him.

He closed his eyes, imagining what was happening out there. Was Trix already there, fighting the figure? Or was she still on her way? Had they sat down to discuss, or was one of them dead already?

Poor Trix. She wouldn't survive that thing. He had to help, he suddenly realized. He had to get out and help her.

Then he shook his head. Trix could handle herself, she had been against him for years. It was no surprise she had him thrown in the dungeons. If anything, it was for his own good.

Was she there yet? Were they stuck in combat? He could imagine then now, so fluid they looked like they were dancing, just out of arms reach, on the verge of tearing each other apart.

Trix would reach forward, latch her nails onto their arm and pull. They would retaliate, drag the claws of their gloves across her face.

There would be blood. There would be gore. There would be death.

He couldn't stand to think that Trix could die.

Edmund rose to his feet, stumbling over to the cell door, and began to drag his hands up and down the walls. He was directly opposite the door when his hand dipped into the wall, and his fingers were met with the cool night air.

A hole? A window. It was a window.

He wrapped his hands around the bars of the window, and pulled. Nothing happened.

So, he did it again. This time, the bars bent just the slightest.

Another tug, and the bars folded almost in half.

A fourth, and the bars came clean off, clattering to the floor.

Edmund boosted himself up, crawling through the window, and fell down the other side.

He landed in a bush. The leaves pricked his arms, little dots of blood came up in the scratches, but he didn't seem to care.

Pushing himself to his feet, Edmund felt around until the wall became a corner. Past that, air and trees.

"I'm coming," he whispered to himself, and took off into the woods, blind as a blind man could be.

-

"Ah, my dear." He purred, standing in a clearing of the forest, arms crossed, clawed gloves resting on his biceps. "I was wondering when you would arrive."

"I could say the same," Trix responded, hooded eyes narrowing.

"Don't you know, Honey Bee, you're not supposed to be outside this late?" The figure released their arms, beckoning her closer.

"You lost the privilege to talk to me that way when you ran away." She snapped, her hands curling into fists.

"Oh?"

Trix rolled her shoulders back. "I hate you."

"Don't say that!" The figure exclaimed, voice deep and sounding hurt. "Come on, Honey Bee. Let's go home. You'll catch your death out here."

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Well?

What do you think of this chapter?

Too much? Should i maybe space this out a bit?

I might go back and edit it someday, i dunno.

What do you think?

(Don't forget to vote!)

~Victoria

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