unfinished

not finished yet but wanted to share!

His stale words cling to the air around us. The smell of rotting blood paralyzes the wind. All that’s left is the crusty spring, spraying hot, sticky tendrils of gas on my face. His words repeat in my mind, coursing through my veins, boiling in my blood. I see dark purple drops contaminating the now spoiled ground, the drops grow thicker, and I realize they must be coming from somewhere. I look at him and see blood dabbling down the vicious cut on his cheek. I want to go to him, help clean his wounds. But I am afraid. I look again at the ground and take a longer gaze at the dead, tortured body lying next to his feet. He had done it. He had sat here and brutally, and painfully killed that poor man. Why? How? His words once again echo in my mind.

“It had to be done. Believe me Cordelia, he had to die.”

It wasn’t so much what he said that terrified me, even though it was cold and bitter with death hanging off of every word. But it was the way he said it, his voice monotone with no emotion except for at the end his words curled off into a slight growl and he proudly proclaimed them. The worst part was when he said my name. Cordelia. He said it which a hint of mockery and innocents like I was still a little kid and he had grown years older than me in the past two months. He had always been so benign and gentle with me. Using a benevolent voice whenever he was to say my name. But I could see in his eyes, his face, the way he said my name now, that was all about to change. But these were all minor details, to the fact that there was a dead body lying next to his feet. I had to run, had to get as far away from him as possible and call the police. I started running back into the woods, but he wouldn’t let me leave. He tackled me from behind.

“I truly love you Cordelia, but if you ever tell anyone, I wont have any problem killing you as well.” He viciously snapped.

I started to cry.

“Just do it then!” I whimpered.

“Pease Cordy, just think about this!” He pleaded now.

“No! I wont stay silent! I’ll tell!” I screamed at him. I just wanted to die. I couldn’t live with this. I had witnessed the dead body. Heard what he had said. He had threatened to kill me! This was not the same James. This was not the man I fell in love with. This was some twisted, malignant version of him. And I wanted nothing to do with it. James might as well could have been dead. And if so I wanted nothing more than to die along with him.

“Just do it!” I cried, finding the silence of the woods unbearable.

“Don’t test me! I will do it!” He screamed, breathing heavy. A glimmer of hope spread through me. He was hesitating. Stalling. Waiting for me to change my mind. But that vast empty piece of hope was demolished as I saw him take out his knife. He put it up against my throat.

“ Please Cordy! Just stop this act. We both know you’re not this brave. Just say you will stay quiet, and we can forget about this whole thing.” He was pleading with me. Begging me. But this was not my decision. It was his. I just stared at him. I took in a deep breath of air. Afraid it might be my last.

“No.” I said. Then I felt tears stinging my cheeks. But they weren’t my own. I stared flabbergasted at James who was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Im sorry Cordy! I cant stop it! I cant stop hi-“ but he was cut off by the voices of Paul, and Sarah from deeper within the woods. James stared in there direction.

“Say nothing! Or else he will surely kill you, I will surely kill you!” He sputtered and than hastily snatching up the dead body and flew off into the direction of the next town.

Paul and Sarah found me soon enough lying in a big heap on the ground crying.

They took me back into the station home and tried to get me to tell them and everyone else what happened. But I couldn’t. Not yet. All I wanted was to go to my room and sleep. Sleep would be good. I could escape from all this madness, of James, and the rebellion, at least for a little while. I would be ready in the morning. My hand touched the part of my neck that was punctured by James’s knife. And I shuttered. Maybe I wouldn’t sleep. Who new what kind of dreams I would have.