Survival of the Fittest

Chapter Five: Intrusion

A/N Dedicated to @Cherry_Cola_x because her story 'The Bad Boy Stole my Bra' is hilarious and Alec is really, really awesome!! 

I needed to get out of the house. I knew that my dad would have a fit if I asked him if I could leave after the day’s events, so I waited until he’d gone to switch with Peter on Jonah watch and told him I was going to stay up for a while. It wasn’t a shock that he believed that was all I was going to do; I had enough to be thinking about and I guess he didn’t think I was stupid enough to go out alone.

I could’ve just taken a walk around the gardens, let my mind wander in the fresh air, but it wouldn’t have given me enough freedom – I was still restricted to the boundaries of our (admittedly rather large) area of land. So I wrote a note for my family, telling them I’d gone for a walk and not to worry as I wouldn’t be going near any alleyways or woods, and left it on the table at the bottom of the stairs for just in case any of my family noticed I was gone in the night.

As quietly as I could I crept to the front door, opening it as slowly as possible to avoid loud squeaking. As soon as it was open to the minimum amount required for me to slip through, I did so and closed it carefully behind me.

The breeze hit my face at once, making it sore from the chill. I wrapped the zip-up jacket I’d grabbed on the way out of the house further around my winter-pyjama clad body, my teeth chattering. I debated returning inside to find a coat or dressing gown of some type, but dismissed it quickly, not wanting to alert anyone to my sneaking out and knowing that every second I waited was a second I could be found out. I sighed, resigning myself to the freezing cold temperature and walking down the path to the main road.

Judging by my rather inaccurate counting, it was approximately seventeen minutes later that I settled myself down by the side of a deserted road, my feet just off the curb. I pulled my knees into my chest with my arms and hung my head, watching strands of blonde hair blow in the wind out of the corner of my eye. Everything seemed so much more relaxing here than in the house – here there was no anxiety pouring in from every angle, no brothers lying in comas, and no revelations of life being forced onto me. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling calmer than I had all day – or yesterday now.

I have no idea how long I sat there, staring at the ground and drinking in the silence, only broken by my ragged breathing. For a while I had wondered why my breathing was so irregular, but when I glanced up and my vision was hazy, I realised I’d been crying without knowing it. Again.

So much crying! I almost laughed thinking back on the day and how many tears I’d felt slip down my cheeks – it was such a contrast from usual. And every time I did cry I could imagine every single person I’d ever met gasping and saying ‘Clematis is crying?’ in a shocked tone. To be honest, it even shocked me how much I’d cried.

I was not a crying person.

After goodness knows how long, I sighed and stood up, dusting myself off as I did so. I knew that if I stayed out too long then someone would realise I’d left, and I would do everything in my power to avoid that – I couldn’t deal with the scolding right now. I started off along the path back in the direction of my house.

Then I stopped, about fifteen steps later. What was that sound? It sounded like… footsteps. Very, very slow ones. I glanced around, searching for the owner of the sound, but saw no one in the darkness. It took me a while to decide whether I should call out or not – what if there was some weird murderer or rapist and I alerted them to my location? But then I realised that if there was someone that wanted to hurt me, I was most likely a lot stronger than them and much better trained too.

‘Hello?’ I called out, not quite shouting as to not disturb anyone who lived close. I jumped when a grunt came from about ten feet ahead of me, and then came a thud, as if they’d dropped something or fallen over. I gulped, feeling scared without streetlights or a torch to give me much vision – not to mention that it seemed like the darkest time of the day (and I would know, I’ve been out in a lot of different amounts of light). I pulled my night-time stake out of my back pocket and silently slipped it up my sleeve, praying I wouldn’t have to use it.