Bury all your secrets in my skin

12. Chronic

We will speak again soon.

Grandfather's ominous words repeated in her head over and over while she was in the midst of her jailbreak.

If it could even be called a jailbreak. The village was obviously quite peaceful, and the police around here clearly didn't have to work very hard if the empty station was anything to go by. Her young jailor had apparently been running the place alone which was quite surprising as it was the middle of the day.

Maybe everyone is on a lunch break...

She went to cross herself to thank God for her luck only to pause to stare disappointedly at her smoky hand. God clearly wasn't with her right now if this transformation was happening again. She pulled her gaze away from her crimson appendage and let out a loud sigh. Then making use of the young guard's keys, she broke into a supply locker and borrowed a change of clothes and some euros. Finally, newly dressed, she left the keys on a random desk and walked out the front door.

The town was bustling in the midday sun. The streets were packed with people. Couples were window shopping outside of the local boutiques. Families were busy crossing the road with young children in tow. One mother had stopped to scold her son for wandering off. Ahead of her, Beatrice saw three restaurants that had opened their doors and windows to the warm air, their patios filled with crowded tables as customers ate, drank and chatted the day away. A pang of hunger hit deep in her stomach and her mouth began to water.

Further down, the road was lined with white canopies; stalls for the local farmers' market. It only then occurred to her that today was Sunday, which explained why everyone was out and about instead of in school or at work.

Wraith hand hidden in her pocket, Beatrice ventured towards the busy market, hopeful to buy some food and blend in with the crowd long enough to evade the searching eyes of the OCS, who she was sure would arrive any minute if they weren't already here.

Two young boys ran past, and one bumped into her. Before she could comprehend what was happening a wave of white-hot rage slammed into the back of her head and she saw red. She grabbed the child by the arm and pulled him to an abrupt stop. The boy, no more than six, looked up at her with terrified blue eyes and she glared at him with a sharp scowl. For seconds, minutes, possibly hours, she didn't break eye contact, and the boy began to shiver.

Her right hand twitched in her pocket.

But then the older boy was there. He gently pulled the younger out of her grasp, mumbled a rushed apology, and holding hands they rushed off into the crowd. Beatrice took in a shuddering breath and wandered slowly into the market.

It was maybe two hours later when she saw the first pair of nuns.

They were wearing their traditional habits and strolled amicably through the marketplace; browsing the wares at various stalls, smiling and talking to the locals, one even bought a bag of fruit.

But Beatrice knew better. She had been in their position enough times. She carefully melted back into a small alleyway off the main road. Heart pounding in her chest, she sprinted through the alley, checking door after door, trying to find one that wasn't locked. Trying to find a way out. It was the exact type of place they would look for someone trying to hide. But she couldn't let them find her. Not while she had the wraith hand again. Of course, had it been Ava...

She slowed to a stop. It had just occurred to her it had been hours since she had even thought of Ava. She had been so looking forward to seeing her again, yet the wraith hand had put her completely out of her mind.

No. It was possessing the guard...

A pair of voices coming into the alley behind her broke her out of her reverie. Immediately the panic and fear of getting caught by the OCS flooded her chest. Her heart was beating so hard as it tried to escape her fate. She began hyperventilating but forced herself to face the sisters that were coming to abduct her.