Ever After

Downtown

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This chapter is in Mark's perspective.

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I felt myself eventually ease into the darkness, having taken up the first five minutes of the train ride gasping for air, screaming, "I'm not ready for Freddy!" Jack had surely given me hell for it, too, telling me to shut up and asking, "Who the hell is Chica?" Oh, if only I could show him the true terrors beyond such an adorable-looking pizzeria... maybe then he would share in my fear, joining in on my not-so-subtle outbursts - however, that would just give the tourists one more reason to inspect the two teenagers locking themselves in the bathroom, as if the randomly appearing "OUT OF ORDER" sign weren't enough.

Being pressed up against him in the turnstiles was nothing in comparison to how close we were now - he was seated on the sink (for there was nowhere to stand), his back against the mirror, while I sat on the toilet, my head at his knees. We were both forced to cling to our backpacks, thankfully giving us some room to be separated - I didn't want to be close to him again, not after what'd happened three weeks ago.

I felt relieved when the speeding cart finally came to a sudden, sharp stop, one that pushed me into leaning forward, close enough to feel the presence of Jack's knees less than an inch apart from the bridge of my nose. He must've heard my desperate gasp from when it'd happened, for he asked what the problem was, to which I could only shrug. Within a few moments, he'd cracked the door open, leading me out with him, saying the coast was clear - my feet tickling his heels, we stepped out of the closet space, probably looking like two lost children looking for their parents.

"Hey - what were you two doin' in there!?"

I froze, barely hearing Jack's voice. "Run!"

The man, a handful of collected tickets in his grip, started towards the two of us, coming at the speed of light - I, however, couldn't get my legs to move (even though my life depended on it). It was only when Jack came to grab at my hand and pull me with him that I actually began to move, feeling my heart beat out of my chest as we leapt through the crowd of busy passersby. No matter how quickly we fled, I couldn't help but feel as if Jack and I were running on a treadmill, seemingly not getting any further from the man, a good two seconds behind us. Jack, apparently knowing of where he was headed, forced me into following him to take a sharp left, then tugging me up the stairs - I felt like a rag doll as we reached the brim of the steps, clouds painting a grey sky.

"Get back here!" the man screeched.

That was all Jack needed to continue racing, not giving me a second to catch my breath. We'd spent only a second within the clearing of subway people, not having anyone clustering around us, before we were bombarded by a group of city people, their accents (although charming) as annoying as a bird chirping in the early morning. Jack must've known what he was doing, for he kept running, his feet splashing the puddles against my bare legs, proving to me that khaki shorts probably weren't the best option for rainy weather.

And then, suddenly, in the middle of the crowd, Jack stopped, turning to face me - however, rather than looking into my eyes, he looked over my shoulder, spotting the man in an instant (for how could he not witness a man less than ten feet away?). I turned, too, before suddenly being shoved into the wet pavement, Jack's body on top of mine, just lying there - I opened my mouth to question what he was doing, but he was already off of me within a second's time, now sitting down and putting his knees to his chest. He pressed a finger up to his peach fuzz, warning me not to make a single noise as the man swept past, not noticing us behind a shield of busy people.

"What the fuck, Jack?" I whispered as the man disappeared into the bustling city, mumbling that he "had to get that boy one time or another."