One-Shot Collection - Keanu Reeves.

- 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚 -

    

  "Happy birthday" I whisper to myself.

     I throw back the last of my beer, placing the glass down on the bar wood. Sad isn't it, getting drunk alone on my birthday, at a bar that I've never even been to before. I stand up, looking around the odd bar. A red light illuminates the bar, rich people dressed in suits and party dresses scattered around. Why does it feel like I'm the only one wearing normal clothes here. I place a five dollar bill on the bar counter, walking past the groups of fancy dressed people. I walk past the security guard, exiting the eerie bar. Why did I have to read a card to get in? what a weird place. I sigh, stepping out in the cold. I pull my over-sized brown jacket closer to me. I instantly get the returning feeling of being watched. I've always felt like I was being watched my entire life. No matter where I went. I felt safe in the bar, like nobody was watching me. I step out into the wet, empty street. A street light in the distance flickers, causing a part of the street to look straight out of a horror movie.

     "Help me!" a voice calls out behind me. I turn around, frightened. Nothing appears, a cold wind blowing through my hair. "Hello?" I call out in response. Nobody answers except the crickets of the night. I turn back around, heading to the other side of the road. I walk faster then before, paranoia filling my senses. "Help me please!" the voice calls out again. The voice is familiar but also unfamiliar. The voice starts to sound over and over again, startling me. My heart picks up, anxiety running through my veins. I follow the repetitive screams, fast walking into an alley between a bowling joint and a apartment building. In the dim of the night I can see a figure at the end of the alley. It sits, facing the corner. "What the fuck..." I mutter. My sense feel overloaded, every part of my body telling me to turn back. Turn back, your going to get hurt a voice repeats like a broken record in my head. I inch closer to the figure, the screams getting louder. "Hey you! h-hey are you okay" I yell over the screams, my voice shaky.  I walk closer to it, only leaving about a foot between us. I reach my hand out, attempting to grab its shoulder.

     I scream, getting turned around and pinned to the ground. The figure is on top of me, weighing what feels like 300 pounds. My breathing becomes restricted in between screams. I look in horror as I see the figures face. Well, faces. Multiple faces hang on the figures face, black ink dripping from its body. "Help me!" the figure screams louder and louder. "STOP IT!!" I scream back at it. I try to throw it off of me, kicking my legs and moving around. The figure grips my neck, slowly squeezing the life out of me. "H-HELP M-M-ME" I scream, my breathing becoming shallow. I'm going to die I repeat in my head. I try to push the figure off me harder, kicking with all my strength that I have left. My fighting instincts kick in, causing a surge of strength to wash over me. I flip my body, throwing the black ink faced creature under me. I try to choke it back, my hands just pushing straight through the black goop. I look at its faces, studying the dead skin hanging off of it. A sick feeling bubbles in my stomach, almost making me throw up on the creature under me.

     A gunshot fires off, the ink exploding all over me. I scream out, as my body hits the ground, sitting in a pile of ink like goop. I look up, hands shaking and covered in black substance. A man stands at the end of alley way, a gold shotgun shaped into a cross in his hands. The man starts walking towards me, a stern look on his face. I can feel my bod freeze up in fear. "How did you do that" he says, now only standing a few feet away from me. My mouth moves slightly, trying to muster up words. "How did you survive that?" he adds, repeating his sentence in different words. Hot tears start streaming down my face, loud sobs exploding from my mouth. He crouches, placing the gun down and grabbing my shoulders. His face searches mine, a stern face painted across my face. "What are you? a half-breed?" he says in a lower tone. His eyes beg me to answer, the brown of his eyes melting into my blue. "What was that" I whisper. His eyes widen at the sound of my voice, coming to realization.

     He picks up the gun, putting it in the holster that hangs at the side of his chest. "Now listen carefully, we need to leave, we are in danger" he looks around, his ears perking at the sound of something I can't hear. He puts his arms under my shoulders, picking me up from the pool of black I sit in. I lean against him as he walks me out of the alley, dragging me into the bowling place. A wave of pain rolls through my body, causing my joints to ache. We walk past the bowling lanes, into a back door. We end up in a small apartment, almost empty except for a few pieces of furniture and a bed in the far corner. He sets me into the chair near the door, throwing his gun on the table beside him. My body shakes, trying to come down from shock. "What's your name?" he says quietly, crouching down near my knees to look at me. I shake my head, trying to muster out words " Y/N" I say in almost a whisper. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You are going to think I'm crazy, but you just fought a demon off...until I killed it" my head spins at the word demon. Demons only exist In the books, like the bible. They aren't real. He stands up, leaning in and taking the jacket that sticks to my body. My jeans and white shirt are covered in the black substance, along my with my hair that stick to my neck and face.

     "There's no way you would have survived if you were human" he mutters to himself, throwing my jacket on the table with the gun. I breathe, coming to my senses. "W-what do you mean?" I question. He looks at me, shaking his head "You aren't human" he repeats. He picks me up by my arm, walking me to another room. "Where are you taking me?" I ask. We walk into his old bathroom, white tiles lining the floor. My eyes wander to the tub, suddenly longing the feeling of warm water on my skin. "You need to bathe, they can smell you with that shit on you. They can easily track us down" he gestures to the black goop on my body. I nod my head, starting to slowly discard my shirt. "Wait, why are you changing in front of me?" he asks with a stern voice. I look past my arm that holds my shirt mid-way across my body. "Because if they try to attack me again I'm going to need you here" I reply. He shifts uncomfortably as I peel off the rest of my clothing. His eyes roam to anything but me, looking around. I grab a towel that sits on the lid of the toilet, wrapping it around my bare body. He looks back at me, sighing quietly. He walks to the tub, turning on the water and letting it fill up the tub.

     "Listen, I don't know what happened back there, and I don't know why I'm still alive, but thank you for helping me" I say, stepping closer to him. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. He pulls out a metal lighter, flipping it open and lighting the cigarette. He  takes a drag, blowing smoke out past me. "It's what I do, don't take it personal" he snickers. I look down, sighing. My hand wanders to my neck, where I was being choked minutes before. He reaches out, moving my hand and inspecting my neck, cigarette hanging between his lips. "Your bruised up pretty bad...but your not dead" he says between his cigarette. He leans over, turning the running water off. He looks at me, turning around. I roll my eyes, dropping my towel and getting in the tub. I bunch up in a ball in the water, covering my body with my knees. I let the warm water touch my skin, the black substance turning the once clear water a dark, dark blue. He turns around, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I'll give you some privacy" he says turning away once again. He heads toward the ageing wood door, grabbing the door knob. "Wait" I call out. My voice echo's against the tiles. He turns around, eyebrows cocked.

      "I never caught your name"

      "John. John Constantine."