The Lamb and the Wolf

Chapter 3

Maeve jumped, stumbling and falling backwards when the slashed man came crashing down onto her feet. She managed an alarmed yelp, but her voice was drawn to shocked silence as the large masked man from their previous encounter stepped out from behind the neighbor's fence and stood before the corpse. His head tilted downwards, eyes finding their way to Maeve's widened pair. She caught a glimpse of his dark brown eyes and strung her line of sight down to the bloodied knife in his hand.

Upon her fall, her grip loosened on her objects of defense. The can of wasp spray rolled away, but the wrench was close enough for her to grab. Twisting her waist, she launched her arm over and successfully grasped it, but upon her return to her feet, she was met with the same bloodied knife, inches from her neck. She winced backwards, but that only prompted him to further approach her. She raised the wrench, as if prepared to bash him with it, but the masked man only tilted his head to the side. Was he amused?

"W-what do you want?" She finally raised her voice in question. She was running out of space to back up, her posterior approaching the fence separating her and her neighbor's yard. The masked man's eyes were consuming her figure in his gaze. Maeve felt like she was stuck in a trance with a wolf; there was no doubt she was the prey. She had no advantage over this beast of a man, and yet he was taking his swell time with her.

Just as the masked man wielded his knife high in the air, a patrolling police car turned down the street and in their direction. Both Maeve and the man watched as it neared them, but before she was able to attract the officer's attention, the masked man cupped his hand over her mouth, knocked the wrench from her grasp, wrapped his other arm around her torso and pulled her away from the front yard and into the backyard– out of the officer's sight.

She squirmed with all of her might to break free, but with his tightening embrace she came to a halt. Both bodies stood still in the shadow of the house, quiet enough to hear the patrolling car pass by them and lazily miss the man flat out dead on the sidewalk. Tch, how pretentious.

Maeve's heart thumped rapidly in her chest as she stood still in the grasp of the masked man. Her back was pressed up against his abdomen and her head to his chest. Escaping the mask from above her was the noticeable rhythm of the man's breath. Cautiously, she moved her head back in an attempt to view his face. His dark eyes were beating down at her through the eye holes of that creepy white mask.

She wondered if he realized that the police car had long passed, as his grip on her hadn't faltered. She thought he was finally convinced of his security when he removed his hand from her mouth, but instead his calloused grasp traveled down to her neck, feeling the contrasting softness of her skin. He didn't choke her, but rather let his hand loosely clutch her throat.

Maeve gasped at the sensation, placing a hand over his while her other hand clutched the arm he held against her torso. She flushed a rosy red, her lips parting out of surprise. She felt a net of butterflies unleashed in her stomach, an excitement she hadn't felt since she was a naive teenager with a childish crush– before the real world and its responsibilities hit her.

There was a sudden noise, different from his typical breathing pattern, that she swore had derived from the mask. Maeve's body had tensed so much that she was starting to feel lightheaded. The moment he abruptly released her, she almost collapsed to the ground. He reached his hand out and steadied her by her arm. She looked up at him with icy eyes painted from distraught confusion. He raised his index finger to the lip of his mask. The last thing she remembered coming in contact with was a wash cloth that smelt of sweet chemicals and ether.

* * *

Maeve woke up to the crisp weather of autumn and the brush of wind through her window curtains. She slept far longer than she usually had and didn't have to worry about her alarm clock disrupting her slumber. Sitting up and stretching with a pleased groan, she realized her window was open and ventured over to close it.