Never Change

Chapter 32

Her eyes opened drowsily, slowly, as they tried to adjust to the darkness of her bedroom.

There was a strange creak of wood, even though she was sure that she hadn't moved.

Pyrrha's head snapped up, her senses going all types of awry. S

he stiffened in her bed, back going ramrod.

Had she heard something? No...

As much as she tried to deny it, her senses said she was wrong.

Her heart pounded frantically against her ribcage, as she strained her ears to hear something, anything at all.

There was nothing.

Just in case, her hand reached for Miló, but it clenched around empty air.

And that was when something, no someone, lunged straight for her.

She screamed in shock, frantically bringing up her knee and managing to knee them in the face. Their head snapped back, and she threw the covers onto them, momentarily blinding them.

Panicked, she scrambled in the darkness of her room, her hand finally landing on the hilt of a knife. With a weapon, she felt a lot more confident.

She whirled around, searching for them in the darkness- a Grimm hand landed on her throat.

W-What??

It clamped down with surprising strength, and Pyrrha fell to her knees, an unyielding pressure on her throat. She instinctually clawed at it, but it didn't budge.

She choked, gasping, struggling to breathe, before remembering she had her secondary weapon in her hand.

She brought it down, and the gold blade cleaved through the Grimm hand releasing her, before she shifted it to a pistol.

She moved back slowly, keeping the gun steady. She could just barely make out the shape of its head as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

Its didn't look like any Grimm she'd ever seen before... it looked... humanoid.

She didn't move.

Her breath stilled.

There was a moment of silence, before it dove at her, and she didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. She fired once, but the bullet strangely pinged off, and she fired twice more.

The second time, the two bullets went straight through the head, before the body keeled over and silently fell to the ground.

Pyrrha reached back to flick on her lamp, the dim light slightly illuminating the room.

She approached with her pistol, looking for any signs of the Grimm.

But they weren't there.

No white armor plates, no black flesh... even the head was shaped like a human's. It was, for all intents and purposes, a man.

A dead man, with a hole in his forehead.

Pyrrha's hands trembled, as she dropped her gun, and she knelt, heart pounding rapidly against her ribcage.

No... she had seen wrong. Right?

Her forehead was slick with sweat, and she forced herself to swallow her saliva. Shouts emanated from all parts of the mansion, and she heard loud, rushing footsteps towards her room.

The Grimm hand she was so sure she had seen... was gone, nowhere to be seen.

Had she been mistaken? Had she been hallucinating?