For a second, I stand frozen, before my instincts control me and force me to run, to run and never turn back, to get away from these brutes before they put an end to me. No, not now... Not while I'm still young...
"Boy, who is that?"
"She's the one I was telling you about."
"YOUNG LADY, COME BACK HERE!"
I don't listen, don't even turn back to look. My feet are moving of their own accord, one going in front of the other hurriedly in a desperate shot at escape. All I can focus on - all that occupies my mind - is survival. One sentence lingers in my mind and bounces against the inside of my skull as loudly as a basketball: I need to get back to the Settlement.
As it turns out, I was so fixated on survival that I didn't realise how close behind they were. All of a sudden, I fall to the ground, getting covered in leaves and dirt as a masked Protector pins me to the ground.
"Well, aren't you interesting," she says in the voice of an elderly woman. "You're a pretty one too. For a witch, that is."
She turns me around so I am lying on my back, still holding me down to the filthy ground.
"What's your name, sorceress?" asks the woman.
I can't speak; I can't even breathe. Every safe pocket of air has been squeezed from my lungs, making my breaths short, shallow.
"Amelia Smith," I lie, saying the first name that comes to my mind.
Emilio emerges in my vision, staring down at me with visible disgust in his soulless eyes.
"It's Misty Flores," he declares.
I try to fight back against the woman holding me down, but every little movement only makes it hurt more.
"Well, I know it's you, Emilio Easton!" I cry hysterically. "You- You bastard! I'll report you to the police!"
Every Protector laughs a cold, callous cackle, Emilio's eyes smiling an evil smile.
"And what will you tell them, Flores?" he says. "That you're a magic witch who sees dead people? That the nasty little boy wants to kill you?" The Protectors laugh again. "Yes, sure, I think they'll believe that."
He gets closer to me, sitting down where he can see my exhausted, defeated face in full detail.
"If you tell them anything of the sort," he whispers threateningly, "they'll tie you to a bed in a padded room. And if they don't do that, the Protectors will gladly have you. Either way, it won't be us who get locked up."
"Hand me the sword, Emilio," demands the woman.
When she is handed the sword, the sharpness of the silver blade shining in the darkening sun, she lowers it to me as it almost scrapes my neck. Terrified for my life, my breaths shorten still, my anchored body trembling all over.
"Who will you tell about this encounter, Misty?" she questions.
"N-Nobody!" I manage, genuinely believing what I say.
"You liar!" hisses the woman. She pushes the blade an inch closer to my neck. "I said, who will you tell about this encounter?"
"I SAID NOBODY!" I begin to cry. "Please, I promise, I won't tell anyone! Just... let me go... Please..."
"LIAR!" the old woman yells, the razor-sharp blade now laying itself on my throat, threatening to slice. "If you tell a living soul, no good will come of it, Misty Flores. You will die, and then we'll have your little friends as well. Now, I'm going to ask again." The skin of my neck begins to sting. "Who will you, Misty Flores, a disgusting witherer, inform about your encounter with us?"
YOU ARE READING
Obscuria
Teen Fiction"They want you because you're different, Misty, and when you're different, there's always going to be someone who craves your blood." There is no doubt that Misty Flores is different. Impossible things seem to happen when she's around, and ghostly f...
