Ever After

A Way Out

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This chapter is in Mark's perspective.

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I'm not going to lie - I screamed (literally screamed) when Felix threw the knife at him, feeling too many emotions to control within such a small second's worth of time. I didn't know what to do, how to stop him or how to stop myself from losing control, how to fight against the way Killian and Will restricted me to one spot, one spot far too close for the cliff of the rooftop for my liking.

Really, the only thing I could do was watch as Jack sat there, clearly hypnotized by what'd just happened - I, too, was hypnotized, but by different aspects. Of course, I was thinking.

As I watched Felix bend over to play around with the props messily sorted over the rooftop, I came to thinking of just how much he could hate me at the moment. Obviously, I loved Jack dearly and would never be willing to leave his side, let alone leave his life (as we'd discussed but moments ago) - but, seeing as Felix was willing to take his life over having replaced him with someone as wimpy and weak as I was, I couldn't even begin to think up the possibilities of what he could (or would) do to me.

Already, things were out of hand. It hadn't even been a full minute since he'd launched the knife in Jack's direction, just barely missing his ear - unless, of course, he actually did hit his target, but I could only hope for the best from where I was standing, seeing as I didn't have the best view. All I could do was pray that he'd missed, that he wouldn't do anything worse, that that would be it for the night, finished and done. If he truly wanted to have the last laugh, he could just end it at that, giving us a kind, generous warning of just how bad he can really be before murdering us in cold blood. He didn't really want to do anything worse, did he? Surely he wouldn't go as far as to send him to the hospital, right? He wouldn't punch him until he couldn't take it anymore, right? He wouldn't... kill him, right!?

"Shut up," Killian muttered, talking to me.

"W-what?"

"You're mumbling," Will advised, his grip on my shoulder softening ever-so-slightly.

"I... I am?"

Killian nodded. "So shut up."

And I did - at least, for a few minutes. However, those few minutes didn't last very long, for Felix soon returned to the playing field, two bright, fluorescent boxing gloves replacing where his hands had been, his hands that'd been clinging onto a knife as if it were his own child.

We watched as he headed back in Jack's direction, standing tall in comparison to how petite Jack looked kneeling over the ground by a couple of inches. He had somehow turned much smaller within the last few minutes of my silence, his back curled, shoulders hunched, and head hanging into his chest - I felt pitiful for him, bad for him, wishing that I could run over to him and sob into his shoulder, saying "I'm sorry" thousands and thousands of times, explaining that I felt terrible for not being able to help him and that I would be sure to get him some more hot chocolate and blankets for our fort and cuddles with Chica.

But, alas, it was impossible, for Felix was the only one able to get close enough for comfort, and that definitely wasn't what he was planning on doing.

A silent second passed by like a train through a foggy night, a ferocious beast tearing through the cloudiness of the rest of the world, forcing us all to take it in for the moment it was there. It was my only chance to properly breathe, to feel as close as I could to sane before whatever happened happened, but, just as quickly as it'd come, the moment had disappeared, the steam released from the train evaporating into the fog, gone with every hope of this situation turning up without any broken bones or bruises.