Strangers In A Wood | Phan A U

Lost Breath

If all secrets were stories locked into boxes with lost keys, then Arya-Luka held a most common secret. She had kept it hidden in the safest corner of her mind for years, refusing to let it to make an exit. Not only did she refrain from speaking of it, she completely avoided even thinking of the secret. To her knowledge, nobody else knew the rún and she wanted to keep it that way.

A teenage girl sat on the ground, early home again after skipping her last two classes in the only school within her vicinity - a harsh, wooden, blue building with a damaged roof consisting of cracked green tiles. She fidgeted with the hem of her itchy trousers, her toes wiggling in her year-old sandals. Sighing, Arya-Luka stood up to leave - yet again disappointed by her own friends. They never really seemed to keep plans with her in the past while and she had come to accept the evident exclusion. She was aware that she would see them later on as she always did, keeping up their plans, except for the part where Arya-Luka was invited. Forcing herself to refuse to succumb to her petty emotions, the betrayed adolescent stubbornly rubbed her eyes before the tears could escape. She didn't anticipate the salty sting of tears on skin.

Phil's skin stung when he emerged from the river - his body seemed sensitive to even the slightest contact with any foreign substance. Goosebumps beginning to appear on his thighs, he clasped his fingers together into a fist as he sat on the grass by the edge of the river. He felt the morning breeze brush against his back as he reached for his underwear. He pulled them on while blindly searching for his black jeans. Gripping the dark material between his hands, he pulled his jeans on as he stood up. He lazily stretched, arms reaching upward to the sky above.

Broken glass - Smashed particles of what once was a mirror, everywhere. A young Phil stepped over the glass and saw his face reflected in it. He winced - not at the pain of broken glass on his bare feet, but at his face. He scratched his fingernails into his skin, pulling at the flesh on his face. His actions left pink marks resting on bruises. The purple bursts of colour on his ivory skin were almost painful to look at. The black-haired boy began to cry as he ripped at his own body - falling to his knees. He felt shards of the mirror pierce onto his legs, but he was numb to the feeling as he urged himself to not scream for help this time.

Dan held onto a tree for support as he stared blankly at Arya-Luka. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she began to move towards the direction of the river. Dan was aware that Phil would be there, and he was wary of this stranger. Even though she had saved him, and even though Phil was ultimately a stranger to Dan, he felt a need to protect Phil.

"Concentrate, you scoundrel"

He heard the deep voice again, now resonating from across the courtyard. The accent was terribly guttural and its tone was laced with anger and hatred. Dan shook his dead leg as he stepped out from his hiding place behind a fence. He hobbled towards the scene and tried to show no fear as a large man stood in front of him. Dan kept walking, trying to keep the rhythm of his footsteps in his mind to distract him from the situation.
Dan choked as he was pushed back, though he retrieved his lost breath and refused to retreat. He reminded himself that it would just be another few steps, as his vision blurred and as he continued towards the helpless girl who lay on the ground. 
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A/N
I added a (really bad) digital painting of Arya-Luka to the beginning of The Calm Before The Storm.