DeathRide

Chapter 5: Help Me

He just laughed at my frightened expression, "Aww," he asked mockingly, "Did I scare you?" he slowly took his hand off my mouth and nudged it behind my head. I continued breathing heavily, just making a small whimpering noise after every little while, "Bet you're pretty happy to see me again, aren't you," he sniggered at me, sarcasm obvious in his voice. His cold body moved closer to mine, his chest tightly pressed against me- nearly suffocating me against the wood door.

"What do you want?" I whispered softly, my words barely audible at all.

He began running his long white fingers through my hair, poking and prying at the excessive hairspray. Though it was tough at first, the hairspray gave out after a few minutes of playing around with it. I couldn't think at all with him constantly smelling and twirling his fingers around my hair. Why was he doing this? And why me? Why now? What does he want?

My thoughts were interrupted when he lightly set his chin on the top of my forehead. His hand clutched the back of my hair tightly, sniffing at it much more viciously now. He was quite a bit taller than I- my face at his neck. If I didn't know any better, I'd sworn he had licked me and I immediately pushed him back and made a break for it. Of course, I didn't get far. He had a tight grasp on my ankle, and I abruptly fell forward.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked me, slowly climbing on top of me, "I'm not done with you yet."

He carefully slid his hand somewhere within the, now tangled mess of my flat bleached hair. By then, he was sitting on my stomach- one leg on each side of my body. His silver eyes glimmered and shined in the shadowy darkness of the hallway. Mine, deep green, never had any such effect whatsoever. His hand had slowly begun to move my head upward, in one smooth motion. I didn't know what he intended on doing; what he intended to do to me. Suddenly- in an instant, both his hands had a firm grip on my head, his lips pressed tightly against mine. My mind was scrambled- I couldn't think clearly, if even at all. I was scared, but I think I kind of enjoyed it at the same time.

My mascara began running as tears slowly formed in my eyes. I couldn't tell if they were happy tears, or if I really was upset. Either way, I didn't want to take any chances, and I started attempting to pry myself from his grasp. The result, however, was nothing but vain. Instead, he just pulled me closer- I, just a mouse in his deadly trap. His grasp tightened dramatically, clenching my skin in his hands. His sharp claw-like fingernails scratched and dug into my skin- or at least, it seemed like that.

I wanted to scream; really, I did. But I just couldn't. I couldn't hold it in any longer, and the tears streamed down my face like two little rivers. The pain was too much to bear; my mind shut down. I couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore. I could see everything happening- him staring deep into my eyes, staring into my soul, seeing my every thought. Yet, I couldn't hear anything.

My senses came back quickly- just in time for the real pain to begin. His fingernails dug deep into my skin while he bit my lip, still kissing me though. When he finally pulled off, blood was dripping from his jagged teeth. I quickly licked my lips. There was the taste of my own blood, accompanied by five or six perfect little holes on the inside of my bottom lip.

"You're a lot more delicious than you look," he mumbled, grinning. That was when I knew for sure, I was definitely scared. I couldn't move at all, just feel myself shake. He took his fingernails out from my skin, my head still resting in his other hand. One look at his fingers, and he then smothered his whole hand around the scratch marks on the back of my neck.

"Come closer!" he snapped at me, sounding almost demanding. He brought his hand back- now coated in a thick layer of blood and rubbed it against my face, before licking both his hand, and my left cheek, clean of the red smears. He looked down at me, a calm psychotic look piercing into my soul. What the hell was wrong with him? And why was he looking at me like that? The seconds of silence- other than his inconsistent heavy breathing pass by, one by one. That is, until he finally spoke up.