Dark. It's pitch black where I am.
I can't remember anything, really. Just a blur of fear and violence. Where am I? It takes me a moment to realize the darkness I see and feel is just my eyelids being shut. Taking a small breath, I open my eyes slowl. Blinking out the sleepyness, I'm staring at a ceiling, and I'm laying in a bed. The comforter is tucked carefully around me. My head was propped up by a pillow. My eye brows furrow in confusion, and I move my eyes around slowly, taking in my surroundings. I bolt up as quickly as I can, noticing the complete unfamilarity of the place. Not my best idea. Pain shoots through my neck and my head, making me let out a groan, and falling back against the pillow. God, what the fuck happened?
I struggle to remember, but the pounding in my temples was making it too much of an effort. Michael. Something involving Michael, right? The subway. Shit. His plan for the day going awry, the man getting shot, my stupid bravery. And the boy with the gray eyes stopping Michael, and his inhuman look. But none of this explains how I got where I am. Groaning again, I sit up. Slower this time. There's nothing in this room but a dresser and a bed. I note this. The impersonalness could definitely mean whoever lived here didn't plan on staying long. I learned this from the many apartments I'd lived in with Michael since we were always on the move ever since he decided to fucking ruin me. This must be our new place, right? He must be how I got here. But...
The way I was laid so carefully in this bed, and the way the comforter was covering me showed otherwise. Michael would've just dumped me on the couch or floor, and shake me until I woke so he could knock me out again. None of this made sense to me. Breathing quickly, I push the blanket off of me, gasping when I see my blood stained clothing. Right. I throw my legs over the bed, rubbing my neck tenderly. God it hurt. My head was still pounding, and I was finally feeling the body pain as I stood up. Awesome. I ignored my pain, and took a painful step towards the door. My stomach clenched. I really didn't want t know what was behind that door. If it was Michael, I knew I was in for a beating of a life time. If it was something else...well I can't imagine what else it'd be. I had no memory of coming here, so this was all surprise.
I hate surprises.
When I finally bring myself to take another little step towards the door, I hear voices. It makes me nearly jump out of my skin. My eyes go completely round, and I feel panic rising within me. Stumbling back, I dive for the space in between the dresser in the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I tried to calm my heavy panicked breathing when I heard the voices coming closer. Nothing can be worse than Michael. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay-the dooknob turns. I can't breathe. I'm so scared and I feel so pathetically trapped that I don't know what to do. I can usually think quick. I had to learn that, living with Michael. But now, there was nothing. I was a complete loss at what to do, and I felt completely helpless and alone.
"Uh, Chris...she's not here." It's a male voice, and it sounds very confused. I hug my knees tighter to my chest, shrinking lower out of sight.
"What?" Another voice, one that sends chills throughout my body. It sounds farther away, like he's in another room. Footsteps. Closer...closer.
"She's gone." The first voice says, still sounding puzzled.
"There's no way. We're on the seventh story, dumb ass."
"You're such a dick." The first guy grumbles in response. I take a minute to realize I'm trembling. What did they do to me? Why am I even thinking they would?
One of them steps into view, and it's like a punch in the stomach. His gray eyes are looking at the bed. His hair is sticking up like he just woke up, and he's huge. He's tall, and his body is lean with muscle. I don't remember him being so large. Maybe that's how he overpowered Michael...but no. Unless I'm being delusional, because I have been quite off my rocker lately, he threw Michael across the subway like he was nothing. Like he was brushing lint off his shirt. It was impossible the way Micheal was thrown. I close my eyes, thinking hard about what I saw. How the fuck did he do that? I must've imagined it. The boy just probably got lucky and managed to take Michael down. Still doesn't explain why I'm here though-
