Dead Girls Don't Run - fantasy version | 18+

00 | It Is Only In Death That We Are Truly Free

It used to be effortless, living.

Now the very motion of drawing breath into my lungs is exhausting.

I blink at the sightless eyes staring back at me, the skin stretched taught over a thin face, flesh grey and lifeless. Lips cracked and blue.

I look away, the idea of looking back into an empty vessel causing my heart to stutter in beat. I flex my fingers from the fist I'd made and swallow before looking up at the person staring back at me.

"Yeah," I swallow. "That's me."

"Well, I'd hope so." Elijah mutters, "I haven't spent the last ten years knowing you just to fuck up your clone."

In spite of the ominous atmosphere, a laugh escapes my lips and I shake my head. "What's the next step?" I ask the older man, his face kind and gentle despite the numerous scars decorating his flesh and the reputation shadowing his name, death dealer.

I guess in this case, the name fits.

"You run." He mutters, lifting the sheet to cover my mirror image once more. "I'll take care of the rest."

"But what about-"

"All you have to do is lay low." He mutters, "He won't come looking for you if he thinks you're dead."

"What about you?"

His scarred lips lift in a mocking smile, the look unlocking a memory of a man who once tortured a young girl until she cried tears of blood.

Oh, how we've both changed. 

I nod back at his silent reminder.

"I can look after myself." He says anyway, lifting the clone off the metal slab. He dips his head to me, "Remember your promise."

"I won't come back." I whisper.

"See that you don't." He clears his throat, "I don't want to be carrying around your real body anytime soon." He nods his head to the back, "Take the alley exit, there're no cameras until after you reach the car."

I nod, straitening my shoulders and walking for the door, pushing the heavy metal open with my shoulder.

"Na-Noah." I look back at the name, my heart aching at the loss I didn't expect to feel, after all, it's only a name. Pushing the thought from my mind, I lift a questioning brow at the man that's the closest thing to what I imagine a father would be like. Since I hardly remember line, Elijah had become like a surrogate. "This is your chance to change your life. Don't fuck it up."

My lips stretch into a sad smile, "I hope I never see you again, Elijah." He grunts his agreement and hefts my duplicate further up his shoulder.

"Stay out of trouble." Is his only reply before I shut the heavy door on that part of my life.

• • •

The car comes to a sudden, lurching stop.

I breathe out roughly, swallowing back my trepidation at the extravagant building in front of me, the view of the mountain curving up in the background, dusk settling over the grounds.

A cement wall sprouts from the ground, hemming the building in on all four sides then followed by another thick layer of forest, the only exit the very gate I just drove threw and the long winding road. The sky is painted a drab grey sprinkled with oncoming raindrops and I slip my fingers to the keys and turn the ignition off, slumping in my seat.

I am way out of my depth here. The words hit me like a freight train as I stare at the massive building, Forest Grove Academy.

I run a hand through my auburn strands before straightening in my seat, sucking in a huge lungful of air and push the door open. Yet, still, I stand in the space of my open door, staring stupidly at the academy that is going to be my new home.

Home. What a foreign concept.

A dusting of rain hits my skin as I round the car, pop the trunk and retrieve my belongings, lifting a hand to shut the trunk once more. My eyes once again catch on the monstrosity of a building reaching up to the sky, almost as if the person who built it wanted to see how close they could get to touching the stars.

The academy stands lonesome, large thick pillars standing sentinel at its sides, ivy climbing up the wide expanse of the building, large crystal like windows leaving an opening to a view only the rich and powerful ever have the privilege of seeing.

And those of us who somehow make it within their ranks, a fox among wolves. A human amongst monsters.

If only it was like that.

My eyes skip over the monstrous building, lingering on the wing that I know the library is.

This academy holds one of the largest libraries in the sector of the world, housing tombs and pages long since forgotten.

And now I attend, which means those long forgotten words are now mine to read, to learn.

To unearth the secret of who I am. What I am.

I blow out the breath I'd sucked in, flinching at the ache that spreads from my left side, refraining from lifting a hand to prod at the still healing ribs.

Courtesy of a man who didn't like sharing his belongings. I blink away the sudden and crippling pain that consumes me from that memory and ignore the throb of pain from my ribs before I round the car, beginning the trek over the cobblestone path towards the front double doors, which just so happened to be shut.

I guess that's what I get for arriving two days early to a new semester.

My hand tightens on the bag in my grip and I glance once more back at the beat up car, knowing I'll have to get rid of it so it's not recognised and leads my past straight back to my front door.

I ascend the short staircase, my shoulders tight with tension before lifting a hand, laying it on the thick wooden door and push it open, it swings open on silent hinges.

I still at the deathly silence, and turn back, glancing over the rolling greenery towards the cusp of trees, promising myself it's not too late to turn back.

I blink, the sight of the trees decaying within seconds, turning from lovely trees to a dead girl, her eyes so much like my own.

My steps echo along the floor as I walk further inside, my attention on the high counter in front of me.

I stop at it, gazing over the counter to the empty seat behind and the office sitting silent beside me, the room bare of any movement or sound bar my own.

I grab the pack sitting on the counter, my name sprawled on top is looping strokes.

Noah Doherty.

I trace the name reverently, repeating it back to myself silently, willing myself to remember it, it's who I am now.

Time to be a normal, everyday eighteen year old again.

Whatever that means these days.