Shallows | t. drake

ONE;

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YOU WONT FIND
US IN THE BIBLE

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THE malevolent glint of silver in the pale moonlight glanced off worn concrete. His pale fingers left a dark trail of crimson on the textured, grey surface as he stumbled backwards down a narrow alleyway. The concrete bit at his skin as he grazed across it, but he hardly noticed, gaze fixed instead on the two figures approaching from the way he had just came. His breath came laboured as he rushed to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers. His complexion pale, face grimy and his well groomed blond hair, unnaturally dirty and limp as it stuck to his forehead. His eyes, a deep brown, were wide and darting frantically around the alleyway for any hint of escape.
The glint of silver was that of the clean knife-edge of a blade. One of which flew past his head mere seconds later, easily slicing a deep cut into the delicate skin of his cheek. The sharp sting of the metal making him cry out. This was soon followed by a startled yelp as his back hit the cool metal of a chainlink fence, signalling an end to the alley. A feeling of dread began to settle itself in the pit of his stomach.

"No..." he murmured, turning to grip the metal and shake it rigorously. "No, no, no."
His efforts only became more frantic as he began to realise the fruitlessness of his actions, knowing full well his assailants gained dangerously every second. Heavy, thudding footsteps drew closer and he turned to press his back against the metal. His pursuers were now close enough for him to get a good look at their features. One was a hulking mountain of a man, broad and heavily built with dark shaggy hair that hung around his face and into his eyes in thick, greasy curtains. He was dressed in a thick leather jacket that seemed to barely contain his goliath form. Slightly behind him was a slim, athletic looking woman. Her long red hair was pulled into a tight ponytail on the crown of her head, her lips painted a deep, blood red, accentuating the malevolent smirk she was wearing. Her tight fitting petrol blue dress showed off long, toned legs. In her left hand she was daintily clutching a black leather purse she opened to remove her lipstick, nonchalantly proceeding to reapply the shade. When she was finished, she returned the lipstick to her purse and extended a pale hand expectantly in the her colleague's direction. The large man complied, reaching inside his jacket to remove another sleek, silver blade which he then placed carefully in the palm of her hand. She took a moment to lazily examine the dagger with disinterest as she slowly made her way forward towards the boy, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement with every step. That same malevolent smirk had returned to her features as she sauntered over, enjoying the way he squirmed with fear.

"Stay still now," she purred, carefully tracing his jaw with the edge of her knife. She was suffocatingly close but he didn't dare move, fearful of the sharp sting of her knife blade. She smelt sickly sweet, like frangipani, so much so that it made his eyes water. He screwed them shut, leaning away from the wicked silver weapon, making her tut. "Careful, it's sharp." she warned, grinning as applied just the perfect amount of pressure to extract a pained hiss from her prey and drawing a crimson droplet at the tip of the blade. Seemingly spurred on by the thrill, she pressed the metal harder into his jawline. Finally, he let out a blood-curdling scream, blood beginning to dribble slowly down the metallic surface and onto her perfectly manicured nails. She chuckled, finally relenting and letting off him and bringing her hand up to her lips, delicately sucking the blood from her finger. "To bad your daddy will pay a pretty penny for your life." she sulked lowly. "We'd have so much fun.. you're quite the screamer."