Garlic Is For Vampires (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 20: Chase

My doctor examined my knee and gently applied pressure. I didn't hide my grimace. Then he sighed and began to put my knee into a more comfortable leg brace that still dropped down to my ankle.

"The damage is just too much. We may have to operate." He turned to my X-Rays and I watched the skeptic look on his face grow. "If your condition doesn't improve in the next few weeks, maybe a month or two, then we may have to talk about surgery, and you may limp for the rest of your life."

"Bummer."

"Bree, are you okay? I know it's none of my business but with what happened between you and that fashion designer...you haven't seen him lately, have you?"

"No." Yes. He was the one who broke my knee. I was sitting here because of him. But I couldn't say anything to my doctor who would determine me as mentally insane and send me away. I blinked back tears and shook my head again.

"Is everything really okay? Why are you crying?" He handed me a tissue from his pocket and I wiped my tears.

"Just a lot of stress," I mumbled. "But it's fine."

"Is your leg causing you any pain?"

"Yeah, sort of."

He looked at me worriedly before deciding that he had to write me a different description for the pain in my leg. Then I left and limped towards Brendon who waited for me. He saw my red eyes but didn't comment for my sake. I just followed him to the elevator before I could break down again.

"Let me see this." He grabbed the prescription from my hand and read the doctor's messy scrawl. "I'll stop by a pharmacy so we can get you your prescription. Then I'm taking you home to rest."

In the car there wasn't much to say, other than there was a lot of traffic. We were sitting in the middle of it with pedestrians crossing sidewalks at a snail's pace and the lights stopping red every time we inched towards the corner. My mind was still struggling to wrap around what Dylan said-my father wasn't the guy I thought he had been. If he was better and not worse, why hasn't he searched for me? Didn't he care for me at all? I returned to the question of why did he ever have a baby with a drug addict? What did Dylan know about him? How did he know? If only there was a way I could see that bastard again and get all the answers I demand.

Then Dylan appeared in the middle of New York traffic.

All cars came to a sudden holt-that meant taxi drivers stopped honking, people stopped walking, and I stopped breathing. He was just standing there dressed in bright red clothes, but when I looked closer again, I noticed that his clothes only looked red because the headlights were showing the blood staining him from head to toe. There was some blood on his face and on his hands. He stood in front of Brendon's car. Brendon placed his hand on his gun and pulled out his phone to call someone-probably officers from the prescient. But I locked gazes with Dylan and that was it.

The crosswalk man approached him with his whistle in his mouth. He looked at Dylan with a strange face and then reached out to him. Dylan snapped his head in his direction and lashed out with lightening speed-grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him off the ground. I gasped and Brendon started getting out his car but I grabbed his arm. What was Dylan going to do to the man?

"Please," I whispered. "This is all about me. Please, don't." I didn't know if he had inhuman hearing but he looked at me like he understood what I said. Then he smiled and threw his head back to laugh.

"I promise you, Bree Hawk, that I will not stop spilling blood until it is yours that runs down this city's streets." With that, I watched as he reached up and twisted the crosswalk man's neck. He barely had time to flail before he became limp. A few pedestrians screamed from the sidewalks and people tried backing up their cars. I gasped louder this time. It was almost too quick to notice but then Dylan beheaded the crosswalk man and threw his body towards us. Brendon swore and tried backing up but then the body flew towards us and landed on the hood of the car. From the stump of the neck, blood spurted, staining the window shield red. I saw it and screamed.