Danger Zone

Chapter 2:

   ↝Ayden↜

I awoke startled as my overly loud alarm clock sliced through the silent room. My head was beaded with sweat, my mind occupied with the stranger’s appearance. I never really got the chance to take in any details about him, but as sleep overtook me, my mind booted into overdrive and he overwhelmed my dreams.

If I focused solemnly on that then I could see him perfectly. His long torso, crouching down to peer at me under the ancient table; his legs, long, surprisingly lean; his eyes, which I had only gazed at once, a nerve-wrecking shade of green, and his hair. The one piece of him that I could spot in seconds, tousled in misshapen ringlets, and shoved mercilessly off the side of his face, leaving a ruggedly handsome presence lingering.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t afford another second spent daydreaming about this mystery killer. I swung my covers off of me, giving myself some much needed motivation to jump in the shower. After I had done so, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I blow dried my damp hair and added a bit of hairspray, trying, and failing, to add volume.

After tugging some light wash skinny jeans up my legs I slipped on a T-shirt and pulled on a pair of camo design converse. Before I headed out the door I threw on my Barbour Parka Jacket and rushed to my bus stop. As I approached the short line of children awaiting the yellow vehicle, I felt weird. Disorientated, almost. It was as if someone had their eyes glued to the back of my head, and they wanted me to see them, they wanted me to look into the depths of their soul. What, with a feeling like that, how could I resist? I whipped my head around to see nothing but my dull street, bordered with old houses, a couple cars here and there, one sticking out to me. It was a spotless range rover. Let me repeat myself; a range rover. My jaw dropped to the floor as I turned my entire body to the insanely priced car. 

Just as I was about to investigate further, the bus I had come to hate lugged up to the curb, and its doors burst open, letting the flood of conversation bellow through my ears.

***

School was a drag, as always. Everything was utterly the same, except for Maths. I got a B+ on my end-of-the-semester final, so I guess that’s new.

My hands were clammy as I rubbed them over my denim covered thighs. Two more stops and I get dropped off; two more stops and I’m no longer in a ‘safe zone.’

That’s another thing I had learned in my classes. Safe zones; they’re places of population, just bundles of little life savers. You’re always supposed to be in a safe zone, I guess I’m an exception. My knees were nonexistent as I crawled down the steps of the bus. I attempted to look back at Doug with pleading eyes, but he had already sped off. And there I was, alone.

Just as I was about to start my endeavor of making it back to my house in one piece, a large hand gripped over my mouth, and another ‘round my waist. I thrashed in their grip, wriggling my arms from their hold and clawing at the persons face.  My legs were on over drive as I swung them in all directions, hoping to hit the man with my floundering limbs.

“Whoa, someone’s feisty.” That voice. That deep, low, growl of a voice, that voice that haunted me for the past 24 hours was back. And I was beyond terrified.

I would be lying to you if I said that I wasn’t expecting it to be him. I hadn’t called the police, or hurt him enough were he wouldn’t come after me, and I knew that. I knew there was a very big chance that he would come back, but I guess I had just hoped that I was something special. Something delicate, in his eyes, and he wouldn’t want to hurt me. And I can’t help but hate myself a little more for that, because I probably won’t live through this. Nonetheless, I’m not giving up. I’ll fight this until he’s jabbing the knife into my own belly.

He dragged me into yet another alleyway (as you can tell, we have a lot of those in this neighborhood) and shoved me against the side of a building. He removed his hand from my mouth and leaned against the brick wall, his hand right by my head. His other arm was still clutched around my waist and he was panting heavily from having to keep me retained. Of course, I took that as an opportunity.

I made my hand form a cup-like shape and swung it up to the man’s ear, leaving him in a moment of pure agony and shock. He would be completely fine after that, but I only needed a second. I swung under his muscular arm and disappeared around the corner. I was past my neighborhood and halfway across an empty lot when two strong hands gripped onto my shoulders and shoved me onto the ground. Once on the ground, I realized he had flipped me onto my back, straddled me, and pinned my arms way above my head.

“Help, please! Someone, help me!” I cried out, fear striking every nerve in my detained body.

“No one can hear you, though they might’ve been able to if you hadn’t run all the way past your neighborhood.” He snickered.

“Please let me go,” I begged with tears plummeting past my eyelids.

He looked down in pity; it was almost like he was sorry that he was doing this. But I knew better. He hauled me over his shoulder, this time wrapping his arms ‘round the back of my knees, preventing me from repeating yesterdays’ escape.

“No! Please, please just let me go!” I wailed, pounding on his back, yanking on his hair, even pulling his shirt back in attempt to choke him. I got a chuckle out of him. As my gaze came in contact with asphalt, I realized we were back in my neighborhood. I looked around frantically, searching for any form of life left in this ghetto area.

I was hesitantly placed onto the ground and I stumbled a bit, feeling very light headed. “Shit,” I cursed leaning into the strange man. It was oddly comfortable for a moment before he pulled me away and looked into my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked a peculiar amount of concern in his tone.

“Nothing I just . . .” I felt myself starting to zone out, and my feet felt like I was standing in snow. I fell to my hands and knees, my vision starting to blur.

“Ayden, Ayden! Look at me, what’s wrong? You have to tell me if I’m going to help you, c’mon Ayden, please!” He begged.

“My pills, I haven’t taken them in a . . . a couple days. My iron pills.”

“Ayden, are you anemic?”

By now I was sprawled on the cool blacktop, and the only response I could attain was a weak nod.

***

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