Lost in Technicolor

Hiding For Now

"Damien," Erik put a hand on his shoulder, making him stop the banging to turn around and see that he was holding up two thin metal sticks. Where had he found them? Damien didn't have time to worry about such things. Erik stuck them in the door knob and with a few clicks the door swung open.

Damien slid by him quickly, knowing exactly what to expect as he entered the room and it all seemed to pass in a sort of mad frenzy. He grabbed the oblivious doctor by the back of his fairly lengthy hair and tore him from the bed, sending him to the floor. The man was so shocked that he didn't even have the time to react before Damien began to punch him in the face mercilessly. He stopped once the man's face was too bloody and swollen to distinguish. Then he reached up onto the table next to him and grabbed a scalpel, shoving it into the man's shaking hands. "Kill yourself, you useless piece of trash," he panted, "slowly and as painful as you can imagine, but don't make a sound."

Then he stood, examining the blood on his clothes and arms as he walked over and sat on the bed, where Petra was sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her and let her sob on his shoulder, while Erik stared at him horrifically and the doctor sat in the corner, slowly sawing off his own hand.

It was a long time before anyone said anything and the only sounds were her inconsolable cries and the dreadful sawing, but Erik was the first to speak, "Should I get some help?"

"No," Damien snapped, "once she is well enough to move, we're leaving."

"Damien," Erik argued, "you don't even know why she's in the hospital. It could be serious and she may need to stay."

"She's in here because she has a concussion," he replied, "I know because I was there. See the bandage on her head?"

Erik nodded, making a disgusted face as he quickly glanced at the man in the corner, "Is that really necessary though?"

"He deserves to die, don't you agree?" Damien shook his head as if he were confused.

"It wasn't his fault!" Erik snapped. "Stop this, Damien."

He laughed at that as Petra grabbed hold of him tighter. "Wasn't his fault," his voice dropped to a whisper from his anger, "then who's damn fault was it? Because it sure as hell wasn't her's!"

"Do you kill every man who touches her?" Erik asked calmly as he hobbled into the room, past the man.

"Everyone that I catch," Damien replied, still seething.

Erik nodded again, almost as in a disbelieving kind of way, "It's no one's fault Damien and killing them won't stop it. You know that right?"

Damien smiled, "You don't understand it at all," he picked Petra up and set her in his lap, stroking her hair. "they deserve it and that's all there is to it. The law won't punish them because in it's eyes it's her fault, when she is completely defenseless, but that does bring up something I've always wondered."

Erik sat in the chair, flinching as the doctor's hand hit the floor with a wet thud and he began on the other one, using his mouth to hold the blade. "W-what would that be?"

"How aren't you affected by her?" Damien asked, looking up from Petra and onto Erik darkly . . . accusingly.

Erik frowned deeply, "I-I don't know I've just never been."

Damien roared with laughter, "Great answer! And I have no idea why that man is cutting his hands off."

"Damien," Petra whispered, her clutch on his shirt tightening even further. His undivided attention immediately fell onto her. "I don't want anyone to see me like this."