The Legend Of Cheshire

Chapter 18(Cerise) :Blood or Water

"Sorry about this Andrew ." I said, giving him one swift swipe to the head. He fell face flat onto the floor,unconscious.

My ears pricked suddenly. Without looking behind, I kicked a scraper who was probably trying to sneak up on me.

I turned around to face them, and sprung into action. I disappeared, my back against the wall. The teenagers were shocked,looking frantically around the area for me. I jumped off the wall and pounced on one of them and he crumpled to the ground.

I approached him cautiously. "You have to kill him." A voice whispered in my head,"No witnesses." My claws emerged from my paws as if on instinct. They were long and sharp, like miniature blades.

I summoned all the courage I had and stabbed the poor youth in the heart. He screamed, his limbs flailing in pain as I forced myself to suck out all his desire. I turned away from the bloody figure on the ground in disgust.

The rest of them who were watching open mouthed and backed away when I approached.

The thirteen year old started to run, screaming his head off. His partners followed suit.

"No witnesses," I reminded myself.

I ran after the both of them, feeling the freedom in my limbs as I ran like a true cat. I cornered them and they were ended in the same way as the first scraper.

My ears picked up another body's heat, not far from here.The leader had escaped. Not for long, I thought grimly to myself.

I appeared in front of him and pressed him against a wall. His eyes looked at me spitefully, with a grunt, he took a metal pole from behind and hit me on my head. The pole broke in half and fell onto the floor. To be honest I didn't even feel a drip of pain.

I sneered at him, "Nice try."

"Who-What are you?"he asked, his voice full of fear.

"That doesn't matter," I breathed steadily. And I ended him.

I sighed as I looked at my blood-stained claws. They felt tarnished and dirty, no longer feeling like my own.

"You're a murderer," I thought to myself, as I smeared the blood on the cracked walls, leaving claw marks and wine-coloured stains.

I gazed down at the scraper gang, slumped to the floor. The thirteen year old stared back, with wide glassy eyes. I wrenched myself from the scene, tasting bile on the tip of my tongue.

I went back to where I left Andrew,picked him up gently, his head flopping on my shoulder and carried him to the residential area, where his mum's car was parked.

His Mother was the spitting image of Andrew, tall and tan.

"Oh my god," she gasped, sprinting to where I was and lifting him off my shoulder. "Oh my god," she repeated.

"We ran into some...trouble," I explained, "a passer-by helped us."

She blinked at me, realising what "trouble" meant. She ran her fingers through her hair absentmindedly, shocked.

She got in the car, Andrew's head lolling on the seat, as if he was drunk.

As she drove past me, she gave me a small smile and a nod. I nodded back, as guilt sprung from my chest.

A few minutes later, Terrence arrived.

"So how was it?" He asked, clearly excited, though he hid it well.

"Good," I said, pointedly adding,"I'm tired."

I pretended to sleep as we drove home, so that he wouldn't noticed how my paws were clenched tight into a small ball.