Page 16

C hapter 16

Grey

Pain and horror.

Two collective words that are not nearly enough to describe the emotions I’ve experienced all too well these past few years.

The chilly temperature creeps down my spine as I squeeze Naya’s hand one last time, letting it go, and then step inside the open twenty-four-seven convenience store.

It’s my turn to distract the cashier while Naya takes what we need to survive the night—dinner.

It’s been months since Daxton left us to continue on his, god knows where he went. Four weeks since we were at that diner, the television broadcasting the news that had us fleeing the scene instantly. We left my childhood home shortly thereafter, jumping from motel to motel, constantly on the move and living on the streets—that’s been our lives since we left the manor.

No more news has been shared, no more letters meant for us have shown up, and it’s making both of us antsy with apprehension. I fucking hate being this jumpy, always on the edge. Every gust of wind rattling the bushes and every sound out of place makes me whip around, convinced someone is watching. The anger that once fueled my insides has been smothered by the abandonment of my brother once again, and the fear of being hunted down like wild animals squeezes me like a vice—it’s suffocating.

We need to save the little money we have left if we ever want a chance to survive after all this, and it’s not much we have left. Enough to get us out of the country, but that’s it. Turning to street fighting again won’t do us anything good. The people there know my face and have more than likely already seen the news. If I showed up, they’d just turn me over.

With a calm and collected demeanor, I approach the young man at the till, looking him up and down. He’s a grumpy man, his lips turned down and leaning against the counter before him. He stares at me with an almost bored expression, as if he’d rather be somewhere else than here.

Well, this is going to be fun. I sigh and give him a charming smile. Even if it feels as fake as it probably looks.

“You don’t happen to have any change?” I ask, moving to stand so that he doesn’t have a clear view of the rest of the store.

He meets my gaze with a frown, eyebrows furrowed while crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a card-only store,” he grunts.

I give him an unnerving smile. “You see, I could really need it, I lost my card and so…”

He looks at me, a scowl on his expression. “We don’t keep cash here.”

“Surely, you have some, somewhere?”

The expression he tosses me is full of irritation and annoyance, almost rolling his eyes from my persistence not to let the subject go.

“No, we do not. Is there anything else you need?”

Instead of wasting my time, is what he doesn’t say aloud, but I feign thinking about it, biding my time so that Naya can get what we need and get the hell out while the cashier is occupied with me.

“Do you have any cigarettes?”

“I thought you didn’t have a card?” he grumbles, but turns behind him to reach a few packs of cigarettes, letting me choose which one I want.

At that very second, the doorbell chimes as someone either enters or exits, and in my periphery, I see Naya’s petite figure making a run out of the store. She’s so fast it’s impossible to catch a glimpse of her face, holding groceries in her arms that are secured tightly to her body.

“Hey!” the cashier screams behind the counter, shock and fury evident on his face as he reaches for his phone. “You need to pay for that!”

I give him a smirk before grabbing one pack of cigarettes, making sure to not-so accidentally swipe down his phone to the ground. The device clatters loudly, and he yells in frustration while diving for it.

I seize the moment and make a beeline out of the store to catch up to Naya. Well-needed adrenaline pulses through my veins as I burst through the doors, all the while noticing Naya halfway down the street.

Damn, my little doll is fast.

Together, we dart into a narrow alleyway hidden from view, and Naya cannot help but giggle from the tension. She cast me a flirtatious look as we turn the corner at the farthest end of the alleyway, continuing through the empty streets, getting far away from the convenience store.

When we’re certain no one is tailing us, we duck into another alleyway. The ground is rough and unforgiving, but we sink down anyway, huddling close to share what little warmth we can. I grab a blanket from the backpack—we stole it from one of the motel rooms we stayed at—and drape it across us both. The wind casts a somber mood over the surroundings.

“Did you get it?” I ask, and she gives me that beautiful fucking smile that makes my insides swirl with beastly infects.

“Yup.”

She takes out two large sandwiches filled with vegetables and chicken before handing me one. This is what our lives have come to be; stealing from stores to survive. She brings out two water bottles from under her shirt, along with a lighter. I smile, kissing her temple, which makes her rest her head on my shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper, feeling my obsession with her only growing with each day that passes.

She sighs softly, content, eating in silence. I reach into my pocket to pull out a cigarette from the package I stole earlier, and flick the lighter with practiced motion. The end of the cigarette glows as I put the poisonous stick between my lips and inhale the acrid fumes. I drag nicotine and tobacco into my lungs, filling me with a kind of calmness that instantly relaxes my body.

A cold wind washes over us where we sit, hidden in the middle of an empty street, while darkness befalls the surroundings. A lone streetlight farther away flickers, casting the alleyway in a dim light, before it sputters out, leaving the glow of my cigarette the only constant source of light.

The silence presses in, and I glance at Naya, her head now leaning heavily against my shoulder, the sandwich long gone. Her light snores fill my ears—a peaceful sound in the chaos that rumbles through me. My heart tightens as I study her sleeping form, the dark circles beneath her eyes a testament to the exhaustions wearing down on us. My doll is safe; she’s here, living alongside me. That is enough to make the demons in my head go silent, disappearing into the dark corner of my mind where they hide, despite the nightmares haunting me every time I close my eyes.

Exhaustion washes over me as I take another puff of the cigarette, then extinguishes the lighted part. The later it becomes with the darkness falling even more prominent, the more the cold creeps closer. I pull up my hood, seeking body warmth from Naya as I hold her as close to me as possible.

Memories I would rather forget fill me as I sit here, holed up in the corner of a street as the rain slowly starts falling from the horizon. I swallow harshly, able to physically feel the saliva traveling down my throat, closing my eyes from the nausea taking over me.

This was how I was howled up while protecting my brother years ago, when we were on the run from our parents as they continually sought to ruin our lives. Now, I’m on the run from a phantom figure; one who exists out there somewhere, but one I have no idea how to find.

I must have drifted off, because the next time I open my tired eyes, sweat clings to my forehead, leaving me shivering and feverish all at once. The rain patters heavily on rooftops all around the city, yet I know it’s not that which causes such anxiety.

My neck aches from the uncomfortable position I slept in as I look before us, not seeing anyone; though the trickling sense of dread fills me, spidery legs crawling over my spine.

It’s not until my ears pick up the sound of distinct footsteps that I realize the source of my panic; each breath coming in sharp and jagged edges that feels as if the air itself has turned against me. A wave of foreboding splashes over me like a bucket of ice cold water, and an awful gut feeling settles in, telling me that something is very wrong.

I shake Naya’s shoulders, desperate for her to wake up. It can’t be my imagination, can it?

The sounds of footsteps walking on asphalt ground comes all the closer with each second I’m paralyzed, watching as the rain pebbles down. My nerves run on high, feeling my little doll slowly waking up beside me.

“Naya,” I whisper into her ear, causing her to open her eyes wide while looking around.

I put my index finger to my lips in a gesture to be silent. The footsteps stop for a second, and it feels as if my heart might combust. Carefully standing, I sling the backpack over my shoulder before helping Naya stand.

She grips the blanket tighter, as if it could protect her from the potential monster lurking in this alley. Breathing feels impossible, as if one breath could blow our cover. The footsteps reverberate through the streets with a creek that echoes off the walls, heightening my anxiety as I peek around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever’s there without exposing ourselves.

If we’re lucky, it’s someone just taking a stroll, or someone who’s gotten lost in the eerie city at night, desperately trying to find their way home. It doesn’t necessarily have to be something bad, yet the churning of my stomach speaks of horrors and forebodings, like an old fairytale where they could predict bad outcomes arising.

The silhouette emerges, revealing a tall, slim figure standing at the very end of the street. He no longer moves forward; instead, he stands still, and a suffocating silence ensues. A horror-like shiver crawls across my spine with the discomfort tearing through flesh and bone.

His dark suit drapes over his body, blending seamlessly with the shadowed walls of the surrounding buildings. The only source of light now is the moon, casting faint, barely discernible shadows after the lamppost died long ago. Despite the distance, I can instantly tell who he is—I spent eight months fearing him, raging against his existence, and wishing I could kill him.

“There’s no way,” I murmur, words barely audible.

With a steady breath, the silhouette lifts his head, appearing to be looking straight at me.

His smile is tilted wide, revealing sharp teeth, far from friendly. I recoil, pressing myself against the wall as if it could swallow me whole, and with that, hide me. As if snapping one by one, the threads of my sanity gradually slip away, transforming me into a wild madman. I feel like one, unable to comprehend reality.

I thought Naya was hallucinating when she said she saw him. I thought it was her fragile mind finally snapping as well, and I wasn’t there to support her the way I should’ve. Now, it appears as if she saw the truth all along, and I was merely another person who cast her aside. Shame burns my insides, scorching my bones until I don’t want to meet her gaze. I fucked up—I know I did.

I feel Naya’s gaze on me, waiting for an explanation. But the pounding in my chest is so intense, leaving me paralyzed with fear. I can’t go back to Dankworth Institute. I can’t endure what I once did.

Before I have the chance to stop her, Naya peeks around the corner. She doesn’t react the same way I did, with shoulders drawn and breath shaky. When I look again, the street is empty.

“What did you see?” she asks in a quiet voice, but I only shake my head.

Have I started hallucinating too? No, I know what I saw—what Naya probably saw all those times before. Fuck, I’m such a douchebag.

“Tell me,” she demands, and the expression on her face tells me she won’t give up until I tell the truth.

The wind picks up, sounding ominous in the alleyway as I utter those two words I didn’t think I would have to again.

“Emilio Ricci.”

Her face drains entirely of its color, the usual warmth of her skin replaced by an unsettling marble-like shade, reminiscent of a ghost with how translucent and ashen it almost seems. It’s as if the sharp gust of wind around us will scatter her into the air, mouth wide open and unable to utter any words.

“It’s probably nothing,” I try to assure her, but I still see the tangible panic in her mismatched eyes, closing for a second. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She nods hesitantly, still shaken and face hollow. Her hand grabs mine in a steady grip, as if to assure herself that I’m here—that she’s not facing this alone.

I sling the backpack over my shoulder before we make our way in the opposite direction. Another glance over my shoulder reveals the street is just as empty, and lead settles deep in my stomach. Lack of sleep, sizzling anger, and nerves eating me alive must have made me hallucinate. He’s not here—he can’t be.

How the fuck would he even find us?

No, it’s not him.

The chilly temperature has Naya clinging to my body in an attempt for body warmth, and we move in the darkness of the night, sticking to alleyways and walls of buildings.

Then, an unsettling tingle spreads across my skin, sinking into my bloodstream, and an irresistible force urges me to turn around. Naya’s hand slips from mine as she turns around, too, and a nearly inaudible whimper escapes her, breaking my fucking heart.

An imposing man stands there, somehow much closer than when I last saw him, even though we walked in the opposite direction. It’s as if I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean, with no chance of breaking free to the surface. Soon, my lungs will scream for oxygen, and I’ll be forced to inhale, knowing water will fill them instead, slowly drowning me.

“H-he’s there,” she whispers, voice quivering.

The raw fear in her eyes mirrors my own; glazing over with the outcome that might befall. My mind races, desperately grasping at straws and ways to reassure her, but there’s no hiding what’s right in front of us.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe, as if I’m mentally down in that ocean. Every shadow in the alleyway holds an ominous threat—they know what’s awaiting, and what will happen if we don’t get away.

“How the fuck did he find us?” I curse, voice steadier than what the rest of me is.

I swallow to push down the rising tide of panic clogging my throat. Dread wants to render me motionless, but survival instincts take over as I squeeze Naya’s hand harshly, dragging her with me while escaping a ghost we haven’t seen for over a year.

As if the universe itself senses our emotions, a suffocating weight settles, fear coating my tongue with a bitter taste as we turn and run.

He’s there behind us—I’m sure it’s him, but how did he find us?

We’ve been under the radar ever since escaping the dollhouse, hiding amongst society to keep a low profile.

My legs carry me forward, dragging Naya behind me as I push her to her limits. We’re running until our legs can’t carry our weights anymore, through the lonely streets of the city, with no civilization in sight. We continue until our muscles burn with the effort, lactic acid building up like a tide creeping over sandy shores, until the ground is swallowed. Each step feels like a death sentence, knowing anyone can hear and see us. What’s worse is that the authorities might find us—we’re no longer in hiding, and it would be easy to notice two people running for their lives in the midst of the night.

With every alleyway we pass, our pace quickens despite muscles screaming for rest. The city’s labyrinth of narrow streets feels like an entity, intending to swallow us down like quicksand, yet we cannot stop. We need to get as far away from the city as we can; need to escape even if it means fleeing to the ends of the earth.

I will not be captured again. I refuse to be a lamb led to slaughter when I’m the very predator roaming inside my head.

Streetlights hurl long, menacing shadows across the walls as if reaching out to grab us, ready to engulf us in a never-ending abyss of horror. My brain is a cacophony of chaos, trying to make sense of how he found us, but logic fails me.

The passage of time splinters into short fragments, where minutes become hours as time moves on.

An idea strikes me, one that feels surreal and impossible. There’s only one thing we can do to ensure our survival.

We need to ensure he can never hurt us again.

We need to kill Emilio Ricci.