From Dusk Til Dawn

Unfortunate

Malice

Exhaustion; A state of mental or physical fatigue. Or, as I like to view it: an average day. Said word seeps into my bones like a drug, infecting my bloodstream and sapping away any semblance of energy I possibly harbored. I roll my eyes. Even that takes effort -- sandpaper and gravel replacing my eyes, as if fate -- or God -- has it out for me. I decide that my time here has surpassed the necessary amount, so I begin to pack up my items as to prepare for my departure.

What was the time, again? I ponder, but immediately silence the thought. For the past hour (it was an hour, correct?) I had glanced at the clock, repeatedly, but it might as well been a subconscious habit, for I never even retained the information I had been looking for. How troublesome.

"Thank you for having me." I state, almost robotic at this point, as I stand up to exit the facility. The woman behind the counter nods at me, and watches as I exit. It is night out when I depart, a silent curse directed towards myself slipping passed my lips as the rigid air embraces my skin and fits around me like a custom fitted suit. New York City... How did I end up here again? Unwanted memories rear their ugly head into my conscious and I shudder at the thought.

Nevermind.

I walk until I am in a uniform march with those around me -- making their way home, going to see a loved one, or just wandering in a city that never seems to silence itself. For a moment, I almost deafen myself to the sounds around me and just continue a silent mantra. Get home and sleep. Get home and sleep. Get home and sleep.

I realize all too quick that I dove too deep and drowned in my thoughts, because I miss a step on the subway, and nearly collide with the person in front of me. Apologizing and sliding away, I swipe into the subway and walk onto the platform. Unsurprisingly, it's packed. I scoff, covering my mouth with the collar of my sweater. The mix of body odor and unwanted breath from about a hundred people is the last thing I need.

I walk up far enough to distance myself from the cluster of humans who happen to not know how their legs (or feet) function, and stand where the train will leave me off perfectly at my stop. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, clicking the power button to reveal the time to me. 11:37pm. I squint, praying my eyes aren't playing some cruel joke on me. Eleven at night?! I feel dread replace my exhaustion, dunking my head in figurative tar and leaving me to clean up the mess. I am going to regret this tomorrow. I exhale, an almost pitiful sound, and glace to my left. I was so deep in my own mourning that I had not noticed the male standing beside me, aura drenched and dripping with venom. I analyze him, something I catch myself doing every so often when I find someone interesting enough.

Black shoes that seem to be hanging on for dear life. Black jeans that have an underlying splash of an iron-like red color (blood? Was that blood on his jeans?). Red sweater that seemed almost obnoxious. Naturally tan skin. Unruly ink curls that stood out from the crowd (Seriously, how was his hair so black?).

Alarmingly crimson red irises, that stared back into my near translucent lavender.

I jump, realizing I had been caught and that he was staring directly at me, snake-like pupils dilating before they contracted. I opened my mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a deep, raspy sneer.

"The fuck are you starin' at?" Is all he says, before the train comes speeding past us, nearly knocking me over. He continues to glare at me, evidently awaiting a response, and whatever force is out there seems to truly have it out for me, because when I try to speak, the train opens and he snorts, turning away from me and shoving by others to enter the train. It wasn't the one I needed to take home, so I stand there almost idiotically; mouth agape and floundering like a beached fish. I watch him as the doors close. He sits with an air of arrogance and a look of murderous intent sits across his features, like it belongs. I finally shut my mouth and await my train.

Interesting indeed.

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Unlocking the door to my home, I let out a long overdue sigh. Today had been a day I was not particularly fond of, but alas, I must live on. Before I can even take off my shoes, my phone is ringing, shrill and insufferable. I pick up without looking.

"Hello?" I make it evident that I am not in the mood for speaking.

"Malice," comes the voice on the other end, and I immediately change my tone. Benjamin. "Sorry to bother you so late at night, but something had completely slipped my mind and I need to tell you. Are you free tomorrow? Say, 11:30?" Just my luck.

"Tomorrow?" I wipe my hand down my face and swallow a groan. "Yeah, of course. I should be there at that time. What is the matter?" I can hear another voice on the line. I don't like who it is attached to.

"I have a mission for you." Comes Benjamin's voice again, and I light up a bit. "I will tell you more about it tomorrow. I suspect you will arrive on time. Please try to get rest."

"Okay."

"Alright. Goodnight, Malice."

"Goodnight, Benjamin." He hangs up, and I finish removing my shoes. I go about my evening quickly, skipping dinner to shower and lie in bed. Sleep, like every other night, evades me, no matter how hard I try, but whatever is out there must take pity on me, for it finds me deep into the night.

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Pity was a wrong choice of word, I realize. I say this, because I now find myself at 12:09 pm trying to clothe myself as I wash my face. I skip breakfast (I should stop skipping meals) and throw on the jacket nearest to me, my bag of books, and my keys and run. My body isn't suited for many things. Running is at the very top of that list. I run, avoiding cars and pedestrians who curse me out and probably hex me for 'knocking over their coffee', but all I can hear is the deafening pulse of blood in my ears.

My lungs nearly collapse once I reach the facility, and I curse myself one hundred times over for electing to run here instead of taking the train. I can feel bile in the back of my throat and I swallow it, rushing to Benjamin's office to make sure I'm not later than I already am. I open the door, air wheezing it's way out of my lungs.

"Benja--"

SLAM

I stand completely still, all air leaving my body in one fell swoop and rendering my lungs two crumpled bags. Beside me, lodged deep in the wall is the object of said noise. A blade longer than my torso is through the wall, dangerously close to my face and protruding outward, another blade fixed at the end. My ears are ringing, and I feel like I might faint from hypoxia before a figure comes into view. He is yelling, but I can't hear him.

Tan skin. Ink ringlets. Crimson red eyes.

When the air fills my lungs, I can hear Benjamin speak.

"Malice, say 'Hello' to your new partner."

Everything from last night to this morning catch up in one horrid burst of wind.

I turn to the left and throw up on the floor.