The Secret Of Us

Chapter 4

I'm going to kill her.

The words sent involuntary shivers. My breathing hitched, and a fierce terror blinded me. Suddenly, Flynn's voice began to resonate restlessly in my ears, its tone creeping with rabid monstrosity. The more it ravaged my mind's expanse, the more terror it instilled in my heart. I could feel a tremble awaken down my spine, as that lone voice grew darker, deeper, plunging straight into my soul. The voice was oddly familiar, no, too familiar. Cold realization pierced me like a serrated knife through bleeding flesh.

The voice was my father's.

He was leaning in, his breath burning at the nape of my neck. My chin was flung up by an ominous jolt of his wrists, leaving the flesh of my neck exposed at his fingertips. His eyes grazed that tentative spot, his pupils burning with the essence of a murderer. Cold, ominous and foreboding.

He smiled.

"Tell me, should I kill you?"

I shook my head, tears cascading down my burning cheeks. Tremors caught my throat, choking me inwardly.

"No, please..."
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My eyes widened as the memory dissipated, replaced by reality. In the distance, Flynn's figure was lashed by wisps of wind as he plunged forwards, his leather jacket raised by the furious storm. The sunlight favored Flynn's rushing figure.

"Stop!" I cried.

The terrified woman was so close to Flynn's figure as he hurtled forwards, his movement brisk and unhesitant. As though accepting her fate, the woman slowed to a halt in the midst of flying grass, a single light basking her shadow. Her eyes watered, words forming in her mouth, as she looked up at the sky.

Help me.

There was a ghastly silence as the world held its breath, before Flynn plunged forwards, hands outstretched, straight towards the paralyzed woman.

Too late, too late-

A dagger was raised and leveled at the woman's neck. Flynn's other hand was on her shoulder, his seemingly impenetrable power restraining her struggle. Before it even touched her exposed throat, she screamed, an ear-splitting, inhumane sound.

I forgot to look away just as the knife plunged into the flesh of her delicate neck, drawing forth torrents of crimson. Flynn's eyes were ice and slits as he seemed to stare past the gory, red laces and into a gray, silken sky that now hung loose with slithers of orange light. He was so far away from me, but I swore I saw the lightest traces of a smile.

Instinctively, I touched my lips to see if my screams had escaped.
The lights bled across this desolate greenery, distant and merciless. I saw the last traces of words grimaced through the woman's mouth. A hopeless, inaudible sound. I wanted to turn around, for my eyes to unshackle the figure of the dying woman, but terror froze me in place. I saw flickers of excruciation clench her eyes, as she whispered her last words for Flynn to hear. I could not interpret her words, however mingled with trauma and melancholy. But Flynn's only response was a glassy laugh, a wicked curl of a smile, and all of a sudden, it hurted even to breathe.

"And why?" his mouth formed a grin taut with hatred. "Why should I?"

His head turned back, his eyes searching for mine, connecting with my horrified gaze. His cobalt eyes continued to hold me in place as he plunged the remainder of the dagger, its pallor surface now smeared with spurting blood, deeper inside her throat.

Red-hot pain and humiliation engulfed everything, weaving through the broken ice of my heart. Her death was so similar to that of my mother's, ushering intoxicating memories that tore through my mind. Guilt and heartache claimed me, my legs growing weaker as a hot shroud of remorse pinned me against its eternal walls.