If Roosters Crowed Every Time Someone Died

The Goat Fair II

The previous ride finished. Since my friends were first in the line, they entered the first cabin. Three more couples were before me. Once my turn came, I put on an unfriendly face to let the ticket collector know I was pissed. I was about to hand my ticket to him and ride alone, but a pale hand got ahead of me and gave him two tickets and another hand slithered around my waist. Hope lightened my face, and, for a moment, I felt happy.

Had Matt actually come to the Fair?

"I almost missed the ride."

When that voice, not related to Matt, held me against his body and placed a kiss on my hair, I got scared. But bigger was my disappointment with myself, for thinking it was that jerk I called boyfriend.

Could it be..?

I turned my head to see his face, to verify my suspicions, and my heart skipped a beat.

Those eyes, dark as wine, stared at me, closer this time, with a perfectly rehearsed expression that spilled warmth, softness, even love if I got too picky.
Now that he was by my side, I could notice some things I hadn't before: He was tall, really tall, a head taller than my 166cm, or even more. His backcombed hair wasn't just brown, it had a hint of ash. His eyes weren't dark brown either, as I already knew. They were the same color as red wine, burgundy. He had the same lilac circles under the eyes, the same gaze of eternal exhaustion, and the same hollow cheeks.

"How are you going to run away now, huh?"

He spoke softly, amused with the situation. He was right. I had nowhere to run to, no one to ask for help. Anything I tried would be too obvious.

The staff guy didn't even realize what was happening, he just held the door of the cabin, tired of waiting for us to get in.

He guided me inside the cabin and only let go of me before we sat, facing each other. He spoke again.

"I won't hurt you here. There are too many people."

"Should that make me feel better?" I argued.

But he was right again. We were surrounded by dozens of people, witnesses. Anyone would notice if something weird was going on.

I allowed myself to calm down. My mind started drifting again, separating itself from my body, detaching feeling from reaction, allowing me to think again.

The metallic beast started its route.

He sat in front of me, relaxed on the backrest with his legs crossed, and studied me with those tired yet spirited eyes. I couldn't even guess a hint of what he was thinking at that time. Now that I could see him well, I confirmed my sour suspicion: The boy was pretty. Not Matt-pretty, — half-muscular, blond, with the face of a handsome Italian boy, approachable, friendly, Golden Retriever. On the contrary, this one had a threatening aura. As if Victor from Corpse Bride was a real person who slept two hours per day.

Suddenly, he moved his lips.

It took me a bit to get it. He was talking to me.

"What?"

The corners of his mouth twisted upwards a little.

"What are you thinking about?"

THINK FAST YOU FUCKER SAY SOMETHING.

I breathed and straightened my back to gain time.

"Why did you follow me?"

THANK YOU, MY SELF.

"You forgot your hood." He stretched his arm, the hoodie in his hand. I stared warily at him, doubting, serious, "Take it, I don't bite." He threw a killer smile. As I didn't take it, he threw the hoodie on my lap."