Between the Cross and the Flame

Chapter 1: Chaya

His chest constricted. His lungs burned. He flashed by building after building. He ran, not knowing why, but out of necessity. Someone was after him. He knew that much. Why or who it was, he didn't know.

He just ran for his life.

He kept his head down, not wanting anyone to see his face. People yelled for him to slow down. Children yelped and darted to the side. He felt terrible about running into a few teenage girls, but continued onward even when they called for him to stop. The cement cracked and veered to either side beneath his feet. He had no idea who he was, where he was going, or how he got here.

Chaya. My name is Chaya. He remembered his name. Everything else? His past, family, friends, important events, even his home? It was as blurry as the sidewalk beneath his pounding feet. He couldn't remember anything. All that lingered from the moments before he appeared on this downtown street was the agonizing fear of being hunted.

Chaya stopped in front of a store window to catch his breath. He hardly recognized his own reflection. Hazel eyes darted every which way, never lingering on one spot for more than a moment. His arms trembled. Sweat glistened on his fair complexion. A light breeze shifted his long, tangled blonde hair. His simple t-shirt and shorts were covered in wrinkles. He was a mess, and on the verge of a mental breakdown. The only thing keeping him sane was looking over his shoulder to see no one visibly following him.

I have to get out of here! I have to find help!

Chaya didn't know how he knew to find someone. It was ingrained in the back of his mind, like a piece of his genetic code. He was here for a reason, even if he couldn't remember it. There was a certain person he just had to look for. Whether he could help or not, Chaya didn't know. All he wanted was for this nightmare to end.

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

Chaya whirled around to find a pair of uniformed men – police officers, he remembered – running right for him. His heart leapt into his throat. Chaya panicked. He sprinted away as fast as he could, ignoring the cries from the officers. He had to get away from them. A tear burned its way down Chaya's cheek. He just wanted to go home.

"WATCH OUT!"

Brakes screeched on the pavement. Headlights seared Chaya's eyes. He skidded to a stop. His sleeve tore. Skin bit asphalt. Chaya laid on his back, stunned into a frozen position. He couldn't feel any more pain. Was he dead? The light brightened around him, and Chaya closed his eyes against the harsh glare, hoping that his soul would hurry up and let go already...

"OhmyGodohmyGod, please tell me you're okay!"

Chaya's eyes fluttered open. It turned out, he wasn't dead– there was just a flashlight shining in his eyes. A tall, dark-skinned boy was holding it, his face slack. He knelt next to Chaya, running his hands through his hair at the sight of something next to him.

"Please don't be dead...please don't be dead..." the teenage boy pleaded. "I can't have killed someone...not like that...you can't go like this...oh my God, please don't tell me you're bleeding out!"

Chaya watched as the boy pulled off his sweatshirt, wrapping it tightly around Chaya's side. Sizzling-hot pain exploded into the area, causing him to cry out and recoil. The boy leapt back in surprise.

"You're alive? You're alive!" His expression broke into the utmost joy. "You're alive! Oh, thank God, I thought I'd killed you...WAIT, you're still bleeding! Uh...I'm sorry, I don't know you, but let me just...uh...take you to the hospital?"

Images of a white, sterile, hostile environment invaded Chaya's head. His heart skipped a beat as the boy picked him up off the ground. He clung tightly to him. With the strong influx of negative emotions associated with this "hospital" place, Chaya was trembling by the time the teenage boy set him in his car. The boy was somehow calm as he drove off into the night.