The Game

Snatching - Chapter 1

Pixie Andrews, followed the footpath. She looked like a lunatic, hopping this way and that; just to avoid the cracks. She wanted good-luck you see. No she needed good-luck. She'd been out with some mates on the far-side of town, and she hadn't told her Mother where she was going. And usually, if she goes out, she's back by 8PM. Groaning, Pixie looked at her watch and began biting her nails as the big-hand shifted over onto the 12, indicating the dawn of a new hour; the hour of 10PM. She sighed, and let her hand droop to her side, as she continued to hop along the footpath; unaffected by the unusual silence vibrating around the street she was on.

She blinked nervously, around every 30-seconds and didn't come to a standstill, until a pair of headlights drowned her in static light, and permanently kept their position. Pixie turned, and held a hand to her face, as to shield her ocean-blue eyes from the change in brightness. She backed away, and into the wall, where it was slightly darker, and blinked rapidly in an attempt to suss out what was behind the headlights; apart from a car. "You alright sweetie?" Someone asked. Pixie shivered as she realized the voice belonged to a man, and a man she'd never met. "Yeah. I-I'm perfectly fine." She stuttered in delayed reply.

"Sorry! I'm blinding you aren't I?" Came a chuckled reply, and suddenly the bright light vanished and Pixie was left standing in a semi-dark street once more. As she stepped out of the shadowy wall-space, she got a good look at the man, and the other various objects behind the blinding light. The man was tall, a little pudgy in places, and he had brown, ruffled hair which had really bad dandruff. He had pale-skin and chapped lips, but if Pixie saw him again, she'd know who he was because of the thick-rimmed, round, black, owlish glasses he was wearing. He was leaning incoherently against an oxen-brown jeep, which had two-seats in the front and what could be a dog-cage in the back half of the vehicle.The driver's door was open a tad, and the man had an arm still appointed inside the vehicle.

"That better?" Asked the man. Pixie nodded slightly, not wanting to provoke him; or anything. That's when she saw the dog at his feet. The dog was unusual, and she guessed it was probably a rare breed; as she had seen the dog's picture in a book recently. It's fur, was an aqua blue and was covered in darker spots, which resembled a leopards. The dog's tail, was rather long and became bushy halfway down, like a raccoons tail. It's eyes were a hazel colour, and it had rather spindly legs. Pixie was transfixed by the dog, and just watched it; a little spooked. Until the man's voice bought her back to earth; sharply.

"Don't worry. Orion doesn't bite." Smirked the man, watching the girl with wide eyes. Only God could decipher the thoughts rushing through his mind. "Good." Whispered Pixie harshly, having noticed the smirk on the man's face, which began to fade. "Would you like a lift home?" He asked, sounding almost as nervous as Pixie herself. Pixie shrugged. "I'm not really supposed to even talk to strangers, yet alone get into cars with them." She muttered, making sure she could watch the man out of the corner of her eye. "Well, my name's Brewster." He said offering her his hand. Pixie didn't take it, and instead shied away; very wary of Brewster.

Instead the man shook thin air, and pocketed his hand. "Well there, now we're not strangers. But what's your name?" He asked, still trying to make conversation out of nothing. "Pixie." Pixie coughed, not wanting to sound friendly towards the man. She than began to size him up, in case he made a grab for her. Being 15, Pixie was about the same height as Brewster, in her heels. If she took them off, she'd come up to his chin, maybe his shoulder-blades. Being smaller was a good thing, because she could dodge out of his grasp pretty efficiently. He was wearing clothes which sent a small shiver through Pixie. A baggy overcoat, baggy tracksuit bottoms and a white vest-top.

"Anyway. I have to go." Pointed out Pixie, as she pointed behind her and made to leave. Brewster watched the floor, and after raising her eyebrows, Pixie turned away from the man, and his dog, and began to set a slow pace as she traveled down the sidewalk. But she should've set a quicker pace, and she should've tried listening. Because out of the blue, a hand snaked around her waist as another clamped itself over her jaw, silencing her screams and cries for help; which had started almost instantly, as a defense mechanism. Pixie kicked out, and shook her hands frantically even though they were practically strapped to her sides by the hand which was wound tightly around her waist.

As tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, she bit down heavily on the wrinkled, bony hand around her mouth. Even as blood filled her mouth, she didn't let go. And even though blood leaked from the wound on his hand, Brewster didn't let go. He just flinched slightly and pulled Pixie closer to his body. "Jesus bitch! You're a fiesty one. But you're going down without a fight this time!" Brewster sneered, just loud enough for Pixie to hear. He then turned around, so she was facing the car. And she whimpered efficiently as Orion, the dog, jumped up at her and ran his claws through her smooth skin. Then, Brewster pushed her forward hard and slammed her into the side of the car with sheer force. Then Pixie slid to the floor, silently, following the shape of the car; as she fell unconscious and pleaded nervously for her life in a voice no-one could hear.

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