𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 || 𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐮

23 DEAD END

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C H A P T E R T W E N T Y – T H R E E
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»A wise woman wishes to be no one's enemy;
a wise woman refuses to be anyone's victim.«
– Maya Angelou

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5 years ago.

The grip on my upper arm loosened, causing the only hold that sustained me in this madness to be gone - I dropped to my knees, completely isolated from the outside world; the only thing I heard was a loud noise that screeched in my ears.

I had lost the feeling of my body, felt no fear, no trembling or pulsing. Only the nebulous vision in front of my eyes, which gradually cleared and told me that I was still in the here and now. No dream, no darkness, no emptiness.

There was only the loud noise and the dense fog in front of my eyes.

"Leave her alone man! What the fuck is your problem?"

The voices came back to me. That was the smaller guy, probably appealing to the lunatic's conscience in his own eccentric way; I was sure he didn't have one. Not after what he had just done.

Not after what he had done that night.

"I just wanted to have some fun."

The way I was torn from my cotton-filled world almost hurt. It was abruptly - as if someone had wakened me out of sleep with a wild shrieking sound, pots and pans crunching together, hands shaking me hard.

But I had enough power to overcome it. A hurricane of feelings and emotions shot across my stomach as the outside world broke over me.

"You filthy, rotten asshole." I let the storm carry me, using her strength, the power she had gave me everything.

At that moment, both stopped and looked down at me, but my attention was focused solely on this doomed, unsuspecting bastard.

He had certainly surprised me, I admit. Because the moment of surprise had given him some advantages and a few minutes of advantage. After all, he had been only a terrible memory until now, a shadow that haunted my dreams, a ghost that had visited me only in a blurred night - intangible, and not real.

And yet he stood in front of me. A ghost that had ventured out at dusk to frighten me a second time.

But he had no idea. I was not afraid of ghosts anymore.

"What did you say?" The poison in his eyes couldn't hurt me at this moment and I could clearly feel the annoyance over it.

"You heard exactly what I said."

He looked at me again, but his gaze lingered on my face, on my cheek. At the discolored, slightly swollen area.

Something changed in his expression; he seemed to be digging for the right puzzle piece, something that would explain why he thought I was so familiar.

The marking in my face. At some point, he recognized his signature underneath.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, the moment of surprise, my moment of surprise - this was it.

I jumped up, letting my clenched fist bang against his larynx without even batting an eyelash. I was pleased to see the desired effect as he gripped his throat, staggering backward a few steps.

I was obsessed, the world was red.

"Did you finally recognize me?"

He gasped for breath, his hand still against his throat, as if he couldn't hear anything at that moment, or see anything but flashes, stars, and twitching beams.

This time, he was the weak and wounded Gazelle, inferior to me, and although he didn't seem to have the strength to defend himself properly, that didn't hold me back.

I moved in for the kill, this time with my leg - I would give him the coup de grâce, I didn't care whether he could ever have children after this attack or not.

Did you apologize to Violet?

I froze in my kick. My mother's voice echoed in my head, they were the same words she told me in elementary school after I – being in perfect rage – had punched the big, fat, evil Violet, causing her to fall from the stairs and break her arm. I had never considered the act to be wrong at that time, because she had always beaten, harassed and pushed around other kids, and embarrassed me in front of the whole school.

But today.

Something held me back, my mother's voice, or probably even my own conscience. No matter how much he had deserved it in my eyes, I couldn't bring myself to give him this dangerous kick.

Of course, I had done it once that night. But at that moment, I hadn't known better, my anger had completely erased the reality between self-defense and intentional assault.

But right now there was another way, and I hoped I could muster the necessary self–restraint to not injure him seriously; if I hadn't already done that.

"If you dare to come near me again, or come up with the idea to put your dirty lips on my mouth, then I swear to God that I will bite off your tongue."

My body shook and I was breathing hard.

His eyes were watering, presumably by the punch. When he had gathered halfway and could breathe again, he dared to take a step towards me – his hand was still on his throat.

"I'm warning you!"

My scream echoed from the high building walls and I tensed, assuming something had to be done or dealt with, but a lot of chatter and laughter came through, making us all pause to take a look around us.

My eyes saw strangers, a group of young people walking in our direction – none of my friends. Nevertheless, the unexpected interruption of the group's laughter and amusement seemed to be enough to animate him to a retreat.

But his eyes said everything that burned on his tongue. The green in it was barely recognizable, his pupils huge.

Coughing, he turned around and walked through the group of people who were just coming in our direction, even bumping two of them with his shoulder before disappearing completely out of my sight.

Strange weightlessness was spreading in me – as if, after a long hiking day, I would slip the heavy backpack from my shoulders and drop myself into a bed full of feathers.

But the peace didn't last too long, because the guy, whom I had already completely blanked out, spoke up. He still stood with his back to the wall, casual, unimpressed. There was nothing to suggested he had stood up for me only a few moments ago. Only with words, of course. He hadn't bothered to physically intervene.

The brown of his eyes rested on my face and although he looked completely disinterested and calm, his muscles were tense. I wouldn't like his words, I was sure.

"You should've finished what you started when you had the opportunity." He pushed himself off the wall with his right foot but turned around once more as he walked.

"Next time he sees you, he'll kill you. I hope you're well aware of that."

With these words, he left and the burden, from which I thought I had just stripped off my shoulders, lay on them once again. However, there was much more than that. I felt as if a fist had closed around my heart and triggered an imaginary timer in my head that I couldn't see but just hear ticking.

The strange thing was: I didn't know this guy, but my inner voice was clear and straightforward. He said the truth. The next time I met the green-eyed asshole, there would be no way out. He would hurt me... probably even more than that...

And then I heard the ticking clock...

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tbc.