Page 21 of Chad's Chase

I couldfeelhim.

And it scared the living shit out of me.

Twelve years ago…

Somewhere in Russia.

It was the throbbing head pain that woke the girl. No way could she remain unconscious with an ache so alive.

With a whispery flutter, her eyes opened. But even opened, she saw nothing. Nothing but darkness.

Now fully conscious, the pain grew more intense. The girl raised her hand to the area on her head where the pain was more pronounced. Something dried and flaky was there, and stuck on her skin all the way down to the side of her face.

Confused as to where she was and what had happened to her, with unseeing eyes, she looked around the room, her head making sharp jerky movements like a bird.

Then she saw a silver lining. No, it wasn’t a silver lining, it was just a slim slip of light piercing through the darkness. She bet it was escaping from under a door. As tightly sealed and dark as the place was, the slim line of light had stolen itself in under the door.

Maybe it was a silver lining after all.

The slip of light told her that even when her present was nothing but darkness, and she couldn’t find her way, couldn’t see the day, somewhere in all that consuming darkness, there’s always a sliver of light waiting for her to find it and follow it to freedom.

Light was light. It could not be overpowered by darkness. It could not be shut out.

Darkness is created. Light just is.

Always there.

She just had to look hard enough to find it.

On that thought, the girl shakily, like a rickety old man of nothing but skin and bones, got up to her feet and walked as strong as she could towards the light. That light led to a door. And beyond that door, possibly to freedom.

Her fists, she pounded them on the heavy steel, her little hands aching in protest, hardly any sound being made from skin to steel. Voice hoarse, she cried for help instead. Help. She needed help.

At the rumbling of male voices on the other side, she stopped pounding, stopped hollering, and waited in a heap of tears and heavy breaths.

There was a thud. The heavy sound of a lock sliding out of place. Then the door pushed open and light streamed in like a billion tiny lasers. Pricking at her eyeballs.

Her eyes burned like fire, blinding, and her head hurt even worse. With that light, came even more pain, and the memories of what happened the night before came surfing in on the rays of light.

Death.

Death was what happened. Her mother. Her father. Her brother. They were all dead.

A strangled cry burst from her throat at the new, additional pain. This pain hurt the most. This pain was visceral. Not physical. Coming from the inside out. Slicing her open and sucking the life from her veins.

A big, tall, bulky figure appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light. She thought of him as The Light Stealer.

The figure raised its hand, something long and black was in it. And that something came down with a force and landed on the side of her head, and a burst of colors exploded before her eyes like it was New Year’s Eve in Times Square.

The last thing she thought before she slipped into unconsciousness again was that she much preferred the darkness.

The darkness hurt a lot less than the light.

The light was truth, the darkness was lies.

She preferred the lies.