I've Got A Story To Tell

Chapter 1: Myles Kyles

‘Help!’

The girl’s weak cries could be heard through the damp air of the city night. Thick arms surrounded her thin, frail ones as she struggled in pain. A tall man leant above her and gave her a smug grin. Tears welled up in her hazel doe eyes as his muscled hands grabbed her small face and pulled it closer to his.

‘That’s good, babe. Keep it up,’ he hissed as he ran his tongue over her neck. She squealed and continued to thrash about.

‘They’re more fun when they’re feisty.’

She swallowed and stopped resisting. Turning her head bashfully to the side, she relaxed and inhaled the musky midnight air.

The man smirked at his comrades, then took a good look at his prey. He took in every aspect of her body.

Her hair. Her long, thick, silky, chocolate brown hair.

Her eyes. Her eyes which shone green then red then gold then platinum under the dim lights.

Her skin. Her warm, tan, smooth, toned skin.

She seemed to be of Latino heritage with her smooth, sun-burnt features.

He didn’t even want to think about the rest. He’d get too attached. His hands went back up to the girl’s face.

Attachment isn’t good in murder, he thought in melancholy. But he couldn’t escape the fact that she was not only the youngest, but the most beautiful of his accomplices.

Just as he released her face and let his hand hover her waist, his comrade let out a pained cry before falling to the ground clutching his head. A stray rock lay next to the wounded man.

A rock? A rock hit him? The man raged internally and got onto his feet. The man to his right did the same, pulling the girl up with him.  The girl seemed unfazed, happy, even. Her eyes gleamed in sheer delight as they looked into his. Then she looked up at the man holding her, and then at his hands around her shoulders.

‘Don’t even try to run away, you little bitch!’ he roared and grabbed her from the other man’s hands, pressing her into the wall roughly.

‘You’re mine. Got it!?’

She put on a poker face and glanced once again to the hands of the man who was holding her.

In those next thirty seconds, the man found himself to be surrounded by the screams of his comrades. One was in pain because of the hundreds of rocks making their way into his skin. The other because of the feeling of having his nails pulled out of their sockets.

Eventually, both fell to the ground and passed out due to the pain.

The man took this time to freak out. His gaze kept shifting from the girl to the men and back to the girl again. After repeating this pattern for the thirteenth time and seeing them lie motionlessly on the cold stone ground, he looked back at the girl and into her menacing grin.

Before he could pull away, he felt a kick in his abdomen and found himself yards away from his original position, his torso vibrating with the pain. The girl slowly walked closer and the man couldn’t believe at his body’s reaction. The scrambled away defencelessly and actually let out a small whine.

‘Admond Chester.’

His eyes widened at the mention of his name. He cowered back as he noticed the small piece of glinting metal in her hand.

‘Rapist and serial killer. Escaped the New York State Jail three times in the span of seven years. I have to say, that’s impressive Mister Chester.’

She spun the metal around to reveal a six inch butterfly knife sprouting from her hand.

‘It’s just too bad you have to die.’

He hadn’t yet even taken a breath before the blade lunged into his side. He warm lips grazed his ear as she began to whisper.

‘I won’t kill you.’

She took the knife out, her lips still next to his ear.

‘Not yet.’

She stood up. Her wild hair looked silver under the light, spinning in all directions behind her, her eyes glinting in a bloodthirsty shade of crimson.

‘I want you to run. I won’t tell anyone that I met you but I swear I will know if you ever try to pull this shit off again. And I will go after you. I will find you. And I will kill you in the most gruesome way I can imagine.’

He just lay defencelessly on the ground and manically shook. She giggled and leant closer to his face.

‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

Her smile disappeared.

‘Leave.’

Within minutes he was miles away, somewhere where his scream could not be heard. She just laughed as she watched him run.

Injured people run so awkwardly, she mused.

A soft melody was heard through the air. She stuck the closed knife into her pocket and answered her phone, her melodic voice echoing against the icy stone walls of San Diego’s slums as she walked away from the scene.

___________________________________________________________________

This is how it’s been for the last two months.

Act.

Cry.

Kill.

Ack. It just repeats itself in a never ending cycle of blood and gore. But for some reason, she wouldn’t stop.

She didn’t fit into this school. She never did. As her hazel eyes scanned the area, she stretched the corners of her mouth to their highest and greeted her classmates in mocked enthusiasm. Her best friends approached her in chatter and she joined in, trying to act normal.

It was hard, keeping this mask on all the time. Sometimes she enjoyed it. Other times she just wanted to rip it off and run in blind rage. She was only thirteen, after all. She had her own mood swings. Her own problems.

She found out about her telekinesis two months ago, on the day of Dylan’s death. She had gone mad, crazy in fact. She didn’t want to accept his death. So for the past while, all she could do is search; search for leads as to who killed him, why they did so, and who Dylan really was.

One hour.

Everything was always the same. The same numbers on the board, same equations, same people with the same jokes with the same laughs and smiles and the same voices and eyes and hair and faces. Same same same same.

She needed something different.

Maybe that’s why her murders were so brutal. She needed something new new new every time. But their reactions were the same. Same same same.

It was driving her insane.

Two.

Nothing new.

Nothing nothing nothing nothing.

Four.

She didn’t have a victim for today.

What to do, what to do.

Her fingers tapped impatiently on the table.

Eight.

The sky was already dark by now. Her eyes watched the moon intently, as if waiting for it to fall from the sky and crash into a gabillion pieces.

Sixteen.

Anyway, it was time for her eyes to fall into slumber. She collapsed on the bed, her hair surrounding her like a halo.

One day.

It was just a day.

Another 24 hours.

And yet, just within those few hours, her whole life changed.

For better or worse, I guess.