Amentia - K.NJ.

Twenty-Three

I threw myself to the ground, a grunt filling my ears as a gunshot rang through the area. The hard dirt and the perfume of the grass had made my mind muddled from the fall. My fingers dug into the ground, pulling out the grass with it as I pressed my cheek to the earth, clenching my eyelids together to get away from reality.

My chest gasped for breaths, my shaky lungs convulsing my chest. Tears escaped my eyes, myself afraid of what was there. My brain was jumping from thing to thing, to my surroundings, to my hunter, and back to my reality of what my body was experiencing.

I could still see the gruesome grin planted in my brain, the blood dripping out of the sides of the mouth, messy stitches covering the pale skin. There were the shiny marks of the scars, the purples of the bruises, the crimson reds of the blood. The eyes were glued into the back of my mind, watching me as I knew I was coming to my down fall. I could see it coming, my own fate so obvious but I wanted to beat the inevitable.

The gunshot slowly disappeared, leaving my ears to ring and my heart to shudder under the weight of the crack in the air. I heard my uneven breaths, my fear starting to consume me as my adrenaline was running out. I couldn't seem to get myself to my feet. I needed to run. I needed to keep going so I wouldn't be caught.

My limbs weren't listening.

I felt something suddenly grab onto the back of my shirt, throwing me backwards. I gave out a cry, the few milliseconds in the air meeting with my body soon to be rolling across the ground. The air got pushed out of my lungs, the bruises on my body aching at every bit of the fall. It felt like I had rolled across the ground forever until I felt a straight wall hit my spine, causing it to shudder.

I heard a dark laugh come from above me as I gave a few coughs, my lungs trying to catch some form of a breath. I had curled myself up into a ball but also getting up in the process of the situation. My scratched hands pushed myself up from the ground as I planted my back against the wall. A sudden liquid soaked into my shirt from the wall behind me. It was hot and sticky.

I begged my eyes to open to meet my competitor, my hands clasped together as I pushed them onto my chest. I pressed my head against the wall, feeling the liquid soak into my hair, iron wafting to my nose. I sucked in quivering breaths, my lungs seeming to vibrate instead of inflate. I finally forced my eyes open, but I instantly regretted it. 

Standing above me was his face, a maddening grin blinding me. The cut edges made it even wider, almost perfectly matching the phrase "grinning from ear to ear." Blood caked the handmade cuts, the coagulated blood creating clumps of the cells to fall off of his face. His cold, red eyes seemed to be blind with insanity and the horrible marks on his skin felt as if they were burning onto me.

"Your boy doesn't have much potential, eh?" he said, his voice coming out throaty and hoarse, almost like nails scraping across a chalkboard. I tried not to cringe at his words, only pressing myself more into the wall as I regained my breath and smelled the iron filling my senses.

"Stop this," I said through gritted teeth. I was so focused on his face that I hadn't noticed the scene around me change slowly, a fading action as if it was a haze. "Don't you dare touch him."

He raised an eyebrow up at me, taking a step back. I saw where we had come to, and I recognized it immediately. We were in me and Namjoon's trailer, the darkness of the evening cascading over the room. Shadows of the night danced and played, the dead silence seeming to deafen my ears.

I realized where he was going; he was backing right up to Jinkyong and Insu's room.

"No!" I screamed mindlessly, launching myself off of the wall I was against(apparently me and Namjoon's bedroom door). The warm blood had turned cold as soon as I had bounded away, my shirt sticking to my skin along with my hair. I couldn't care less at the moment.