To Imagine...

Imagine Two: Skylar

Panting, the body of a boy pressed back against the dark side of a towering structure, nails digging under skin as he gripped his shoulder. Beneath it his hand was stained and glistening red, wet over the fresh wound that drove him mad with agony. A street lamp cast across his visage as he threw his gaze around the corner of a building, bleaching his pale skin white in the gloom of darkness. Drawing back, his eyes shut and he dropped his head back against the cold cement. Too close. They were too close.

With a shove he pushed away from the building and half-sprinted down the alleyway, flourishing in the shadows of the street lamps. What went wrong?

A creative slew of curses ruptured the delicate silence as he kicked a sharp stone, flailing to keep balance. His vision struggled to slowly adjust to the darkness, abnormal to his normally piqued senses. Pounding out the throbbing pain onto the pavement, he ran until he drew up short, sliding on his shoes as he met a large orange sign and a pile of rubble--the alleyway lead to a dead end. Every muscle and hair on his body tensed.

"Freeze!" The boy turned as a bright light silhouetted his body against the pile of crumbled stone, slouched, still grasping white-knuckled to his bloodied shoulder. His lip curled in a sneer.

"Swine." The word was no more than an mutter, his eyes narrowed against the twinkling beams of light. Blinded by the sharp brilliance, his eyes wandered over the halo of light, blank orbs like moths to candles.

"Put your hands up!" His eyes flicked to the man that spoke, though all he saw was a vague figure--his sneer spread, extending into a snarl as he bared his teeth. A low note grew in this throat, a guttural warning. Eyes reflected his iron pride, his brash condescension daring them to move closer. They repeated their command again.

The shining lights lowered, and before him he saw two men holding small, glittering black objects pointed at him. The growl in his throat was quickly succeeded by an ebbing contraction of fear.

"Hands up now, or we'll shoot. Let's make this easy for all of us."

Shoot. He repeated the word slowly to himself in his head, haltingly comprehending the meaning to what was spoken. His mind whirred--I'm out of options.

Leisurely, he lifted his right arm from his bloodied shoulder, raising it to the air, though curiously he questioned the motive. Was this an execution?

"Both of them; now. Both of your hands up." One of the men proceeded to move closer to him, but cautiously. The boy watched him with almost teasing, amused eyes, though they held no mirth. Long canines peeked from under the slight smile in his lips. They were afraid.

With blinding pain, he raised his wounded arm, holding it halfway where the pain grated in his skull, a thousand warnings screaming their admonishment against his effort. His teeth ground together, jaw clenched tightly.

"All the way up!" The man called across the distance, the other holding a cautionary distance as he moved closer. The boy shook his head, his grin glittering.

"You've one last warning." A steely ice soured his smile like extracting a blade from a wound--impossibly, the man spoke without reason, yet wholly in truth. The low sound grew in his throat again and he grated against the pain, forcing his arm up to meet his other. The pain swelled impossibly until his body felt bloodless and the world before his eyes appeared bleached of color. Bleached and swaying...

Everything had been strange to him from the moment he had found himself in this place--so many overwhelming aromas that he could not comprehend, the greater of them tremendously vile in a way that had disgorged his stomach. An alarming lack of forests had left him without solace, where instead in their place stood massive stone buildings such as the ones that trapped him now... built taller than trees and as smooth as cold skin. And the people here...