Blackbird

Who You Are

Forks, Washington

My breathing emphasized the self-evident shock I was in. It came out in rapid patterns, just like Nixon's painful hits he delivered to the man who remained unknown. I lay there, hopeless, breathless, and ultimately scared.

Then I closed my eyes. I took this moment to slow my breaths, and put the pieces of this impossible puzzle back together.

How did Nixon know where I was? How did he manage to come to my rescue at such a convenient time?

The most taunting question of them all: Who was Nixon?

I opened my eyes again. My sight prevailed Nixon's bloody hands from choking and recklessly punching the stranger.

I felt sick.

I closed my eyes once more, the scent of the blood was beginning to trail up my nose. It was unbearable to my senses. I felt a sudden blow of wind against my face, it was relaxing but strangely odd considering it was much stronger and it held a scent of dirt and cologne. I peeked through my eyelids.

Nixon and the stranger were gone.

This time I managed to prop myself on my elbows, looking around me in alarm.

He couldn't have saved my life and just...disappear.

I stand only to feel terribly light headed. I slowly walked down the dark alleyway. I noticed the blood marks that were once on the concrete ground- vanished.

I must be going crazy.

I continued to follow my path in a desperate attempt to find Nixon. And thanks to the ounce of luck I had left, I saw a shadow.

"Nixon?"

My feet began to carry me faster and faster until I was sprinting towards the figure. This time I knew the shadow wasn't a stranger, I could tell it was Nixon by his posture, his figure, and his pitch black hair.

I caught up to him and slowed down to a complete stop a few feet behind him. For some reason, I was intimidated to speak to him.

More like to demand answers from him.

"How did you know where I was?"

I question, my breath shaky from the fear and lack of physical shape I was in. All of this running did not benefit me.

The moon shined on Nixon's silhouette. He looked powerful, as if the events that just happened did not phase him.

It sure as hell phased me.

Nixon finally turned around and once again, those black eyes took my breath away. Blood was smeared on his cheek. He slowly wiped the remainder off the corner of his lips, staring at me intently.

"Look, I get it if talking is not your thing. But I just cheated death back there and that wouldn't be the case if you didn't show up and...and..."

I somehow could not finish the sentence. I realized what just happened. A boy who goes to my school, saved my life.

By strangling a man to death.

I suddenly felt the shock return to my body and I couldn't move. The blood, the way Nixon punched the figure's face over and over again.

I had the sudden urgency to run far away from Nixon and call the police.

"Don't,"

Nixon blurted. I was taken back to what he just said.

Don't what?

"You don't want to do that."

He said, his eyes narrowed. I analyzed his perfectly structured face only to realize that he was maneuvering closer to me.