To Live, Not To Survive

Library

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M. Meyer

 "Please," The woman begged, her eyes full of fear. She was clutching her mangled leg.

 "Kill me instead... Don't kill my child."

 Night Stalker's eyes strayed off to a young girl, not too far away. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, as tears escaped her eyes.

 "Mommy!" The girl screamed, as Night Stalker began to advance, her eyes an unnatural shade of blue. The child whimpered, as she tried to scuttle away, but Night Stalker was faster than her. As quick as a flash, the girl was dead on the floor, shot by the gun in the assassin's hands.  Her eyes lolling, glistening with unshed tears.

 The broken mother's screams of rage rang out in the dark night as she too, followed her daughter from a single bang to the head. 

 Night Stalker was standing in the middle of a garden, far out in the country side. The fire emitting from the burning ware house was silhouetting the assassin, the girl like a ghost. As the wind blew up, and bits of fire sprayed into the dewy grass, she walked into the night, back to her home. 

 Mathilda gasped awake, sweat trickling down her face. Her silver eyes scanned her surroundings, still swimming in her memories. The faces of the woman, the child....She couldn't get it out of her head. She had killed them, with no mercy whatsoever.

 She stared at her hands in despair, and all she could see were two bloody hands. A sob escaped her throat, as she jumped out of her creaking, cold iron bed and scrambled into the rusty bathroom.

 bare foot on the cold cement, Mathilda began scrubbing furiously at her still bloody hands, trembling slightly. As the image slowly disappeared, she let out a deep breath, and leaned against the sink.

 She gazed out of the window, to find the sky pitch black. She checked the time, and sighed when she found the clock nearing 3 am in the morning.

 Yup, 4 hours of sleep. What a joy.

 The most sleep she had gotten in the last 2 years were about 6 hours or so, and she always woke up from a nightmare. 

  It had been a week since she had been seen in the cameras. She knew that somebody had seen the footage, but couldn't figure out who did. For now, she was staying low.

 Since she had been wearing a muffler on that particular day, she decided to change her wear. For instance, no mufflers. She would just have to wind up a roll of skin colored bandages on her mark.

 She looked up, to find a pale looking figure staring into her eyes from the mirror right in front of her. 

 The girl inside was skinny. Nearly made out of bones and skin. She was small, too, of course she wasn't of average height. Her big, silver eyes looked other worldly in addition to her pale skin and raven hair. 

 Her eyes then wondered up to her multiple scars, and right to the left side of her neck. 

 062144.

 She winced at the sudden memory of sizzling metal burning on her sensitive flesh.

 Mathilda took a hesitant step forward, in front of the glass, to inspect her mark. It looked black, and ugly, a stark contrast to her near pale skin. She touched it with the tip of her finger, but backed down, not wanting a flood of memories coming back to her mind.

 Never once looking up at her reflection again, the girl silently began to dress herself with scavenged clothes.