Witchcraft

Chapter Twelve

If I accidentally have written 'Virtus' instead of 'Judas' sorry for some reason i keep thinking about that dumb bone cutter uhg Virtus go away

Chapter Twelve 

I lay on the filthy couch, feeling the cool breeze filter in through the broken windows. Judas sits at the very end of the couch, staring at the clock as if it were the most alluring piece of entertainment. I watch him, as he sits still, in absolute silence.

Is this what he does all day? Wait and wait and wait. For what?

"Time would move a lot quicker if you occupied your mind." I sit up, "We can start building this place back up. There might be some tools laying around here somewhere we can start fixing something." 

"No." He doesn't look at me. His eyes are trained on the little hand of the clock that ticks so slowly.

I frown, "Why not?"

No answer.

"Well what if I start? I don't need you anyway."

He turns to me this time. "No."

"That's not a reason, in fact, I'm inclined to ignore your orders, as you do have me on a leash. I'm not a very obedient dog, as I'm sure you're well aware." I stand, but he doesn't move an inch. His body still as a statue, but I'm smart enough to not believe the lie of his stature. He may seem calm, but he's fast, he's strong, and he'd have me thrown back into the bedroom before I could blink.

Still, a part of me wants to test him, just to see him react.

Being here for so long, my boredom has grown its own branches of boredom, but my fear has dissipated, and my intrigue was once again alive.

Judas Sloan was the Barlow villain, and yet, the more I sit with him, and the longer I watch him pathetically exist, I want to do nothing but defend him.

I remember the articles, the columns in the paper, all discussing the role of Judas Sloan. "He's a scratch on the Barlow name." 

"He's public property, if he can't even pay taxes, then he deserves nothing."

"Anyone who pisses off a witch, threatening the innocents in town, deserves the worst. Judas is our poison."

And now, Judas is our center point. People from all over the world hear about his story, and want to come to participate in the hunting games. I don't even think Judas himself knows just how widely known he is.

I take a daring step away from him, and his gaze slowly moves from the clock, to me. He doesn't make any effort to move, but he's watching. He's waiting for me to run.

I open my mouth to taunt him, but quickly shut it when a shadow of movement swiftly appears and disappears outside a window in the dining room. I frown, staring at the window, considering what it was that I just saw.

It was rather large for an animal.

Nobody hunts Judas before or after the Barlow Hunting Games. It's considered bad luck.

And yet. . .

A large crash comes from a window upstairs, and a thud hits the ground in one of the bedrooms like someone had throne a rock through the glass. Judas is up and pulling me down into the basement in an instant. He doesn't think twice about it, almost as if he had been waiting for this.

My heart races, as I hear a voice shout, "Fuck you, Judas!" The voice was young, like whoever it was, was no older than seventeen. A kid, a fucking kid.

"Judas," I'm panicked, because I know this is my best chance at escaping. "Please don't lock me down here please." 

He ignores me, and pushes me in a small dark spot underneath the stairs. He ties the rope that is around my wrist to a wooden plank nailed to the wall and begins to return up the stairs, but I scream, "Help! Please! I'm in here!" Judas slams the door, and I quickly begin to untie the rope, taking longer than necessary to get free. I run up to the closed door and bang my fists on it. Screaming at the top of my lungs, praying the person outside hears.