Ariella POV
The only thing I could hear was my breath. I knew I couldn't go on much longer. The dress was weighing me down. I could feel the silk squishing around my ankles. It was the softest, most elegant fabric I had ever been in possession of, that is if the dress was even mine. The starch white of the ball down was now gray at the bottom. There were rips and holes encasing the entire dress. I didn't know why and where I got the gown, but I did know that I could barely breathe. My legs were aching, and I could feel my muscles straining. I clawed at my torso, wanting to get the torture device off, so I could breathe.
I was running from something, but I didn't know what I was running from. They're trying to capture me. That was all I knew. I had to keep running. Stopping would be suicide. But as I passed an abandoned store window, I couldn't help stopping at my reflection. I couldn't hear the constant footsteps that had been chasing me. All was silent.
The tight curls that framed my face had fallen from the other's that were piled on top of my head. Though the dress was worn and ruined from the many tears, it was still beautiful. It may not have been a beauty classically portrayed by a perfect ensemble, or any classic beauty as seen in the real world. It was a different kind of beauty. A beauty that involved the entire essence of my appearance. Something about the spoiled dress, disheveled hair, and the lack of shoes, that seemed to be the most fascinating thing I had laid my eyes on. I felt an aching in my heart, like I needed to be doing something, but it was impossible for me to tear my eyes away from my reflection.
Suddenly, there were dozens of arms wrapping around me, grabbing me. I remembered what I had momentarily forgotten. I panicked and squirmed in their grasp. I tried to see who had grabbed me, and once I did I felt tears forming in my eyes; they were faceless. They were black figures with no individuality at all. I heard and felt everything now, the footsteps, the sound of my desperate gasps for air, and the fabric weaving itself between my legs, binding them together. I was forced down to the ground. I saw a figure at the end of the alley, my eyesight transformed into tunnel vision. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, nobody was going to help me.
The picture changed. I was no longer being held down by a jumble of arms, but was now looking at the face of the figure that was walking across the end of the alley. The first thing I noticed was that he was gorgeous. His strict features came together to form a perfect face. Everything about him seemed to have no flaw. His skin glowed, unless it was simply a trick. But something about his eyes wasn't right, it was almost as if they were frozen.
I screamed out to him until my voice gave out. Even though I was no longer caught in the assortment of hands, somehow I knew I was still captured. I was afraid of the darkness that surrounded me, I was afraid of having no hope, but most of all, I was afraid of giving up. I needed help, and he was my only chance of escaping. He reached out to me, about to pull me to safety. He clasped my hand, my breath collapsed, I was safe, I was sure of it. He pulled me to him and turned me, so that my back was pressed up against his chest. He ran his hand through my hair, and I was no longer afraid. I felt secure, like he would rescue me; save me from whatever evil that was chasing me. He moved the excess strands of my hair to the side, exposing my neck. His grip tightened around me. I grunted for him to stop squeezing, but his grip only tightened. I struggled to push away, but he was too strong for me. I saw a fragment of light that glinted off of something silver out of the corner of my eye. I was too absorbed in the firmness of his grasp that I didn't pay attention to what was in his hand.
He lifted his hand and jerked something in a clean line across the back of my neck. It was a blade. A searing pain shot across my neck. I screamed, and white spots appeared across my vision. Tears were falling from my eyes so fast that they were blinding me. I was completely alone, and somehow this scared me more than the boy who was holding me in a death grip; determined that I wouldn't get away. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me. This was the end. Was this really how I was going to die? I would never get away. I'm dying. The tears came down even harder, blurring my eyesight a hundred times more so that I couldn't see a single thing. I screamed louder, but stopped, realizing that there was no chance I could be saved now, they had me. I could feel the menacing, slithering, serpent of blood creeping down my collarbone. The spots of white turned into an endless black abyss.
