Dawn Is Coming

Chapter 11

Akira

My chest is heaving, the horrible feelings of the constrictions crashing back down on me.

He's here.

I'm standing in the ridiculously extravagant bathroom of The Chalice, my hands braced on the black marble counter with droplets of sweat dripping onto the surface. My reflection stares up at me from the polished stone, wide eyes filled with utter panic. I clap my hand over my mouth as I gag, sensing the pungent taste of blood coming up my throat. Unable to hold it back anymore, I feel the vomit burst from my mouth, staining the pristine sink crimson. I'm immediately relieved that I locked the door, knowing that if anyone had spied me getting so sick, I'd be incarcerated right away.

I drop to the floor once I've bottomed out my stomach, my legs buckling under weight of my sick body. The urge to curl into a ball to hide from the pain is at war with the need to straighten out to get more air into my lungs. They feel like popped balloons, receiving air but never filling up. Anxiety closes in around me, its hand tight around my neck. And to add insult to injury, a loud knock shakes the locked door.

"I've been waiting for 5 minutes, hurry up!" A deep, intimidating voice echoes outside, making me cringe. Whoever that is does not sound very nice, nor very happy.

Wonderful.

"I'll be right out," I croak while I manage to get back up on my feet, my head spinning at the change in altitude. I glance into the mirror, grabbing a wet tissue from a fancy steel dispenser and wiping the disgusting muck lining the edges of my lips. My hair almost seems to shine in the bright, artificial light, which reflects off the golden strands like fire. Smoothing over my hair and adjusting my belt, I exit the bathroom with a deep breath, nearly bumping into a massive man. I cringe after looking up, my eyes meeting a violet, prosthetic pair framed by unruly, ebony hair. A mischievous smile crinkles the pale skin around his eyes, sending shivers down my spine.

"There you are... I've been looking for you." He purrs, taking a step closer to me. I take a cautious step back, taking my hands out of my pockets. He's big, but Centrex tend to be weaker than Thrifts – everything is always handed to them in a silver platter, after all.

I can take him down if I need to.

"Have we met?" I ask, despising the insecurity of my tone. Why am I scared? I can take down nearly everyone in this country.

But... why does this man seem to radiate an aura of omnipotent power? The booming noises of the electronic music and the screaming of the crowd are drowned out by his violet eyes, the colour of asters. Despite how normal it should be, I can't help but shiver when he blinks.

"Not yet," He smirks. My hand flies into my pocket when he extends his hand to me, my body tensing when I remember how I had given my pocket knife to the bouncer. He had to literally wrestle the trusty blade out of my hand, with an irritated promise to return it to me. Lyndin had told me to brush it off and relax, that no one will harm me here. She sounded so happy and excited that I couldn't bring myself to say no to her, so here I am.

Cocking his head, he falters a bit at my reaction, his smile dropping. His eyes flit up to something behind me, his mouth once again morphing into a sinister smile. My body tenses further when I feel a familiar warmth press against my back, a strong arm wrap around my waist.

"Fuck off." The voice behind me hisses, resulting in a light-hearted laugh from the man before me. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he whirls around and strolls back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him this time. I stay still, my body taut as I wait for him to do something.