Flicker

Summary: There maybe other people like me, who will see the flicker on the walls, but these burns don’t heal like before because you don’t hold me anymore…Larry Stylinson.

~O~

June 17

A cold chill ran through the air in the form of a breeze, causing the trees to sway and brown hair to shift across the tight skin of a lightly tanned forehead.

He quickened his pace, feet slapping against the pavement, and looked over his shoulder, unsure why but he could have sworn someone was watching him; however, his eyes met an empty street, the only accompanying object a tall streetlight.

The door handle of the small car was cold, the lights flashed as the car was unlocked with a resounding beep, and he thanked past inventors for creating automatic keys, glad he didn’t have to manually unlock the car.

The moon stared down at him, watching rigidly as he fumbled to shove the key in the ignition, and he glanced up, looking in the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following him. It was odd, this feeling of being watched, and he had a strange urge to lock the doors, even if he was going to be leaving soon enough.

The leather seats, too, were icy, the cold seeping through the barrier of tan pants, and a shudder racking through his body as he finally turned the key the right way, the tiny car roaring to life on the side of the silent street.

The neighborhood seemed dead, too quiet and the rumbling of the man-made machine cut through the peace, but he was glad to be leaving, the darkness not as ominous when he was rushing through it.

His feet pressed the clutch and gas pedals, right hand moving the stick shift from gear to gear seamlessly, fluidly.

He looked into the center mirror once more, observing the lifeless road disappearing behind him with every push of the pedal and whirl of the wheels.

Gazing back out the sparkling front windshield, humming along with the bass blaring from beating speakers- boom, boom, boomboom- he bounced his body in time with the music, hyper from the night’s events.

The car paused, the stop light bright red, and not long after, a glaring green, and he was off again, all too aware of the emptiness of the town, as well as inside but he didn’t dwell on that now, instead focusing on the radio, unwilling to succumb to the fear that arrived with the darkness of a lonely, late night.

The car halted again, this time at a maroon octagon that held four white letters, and his eyes flickered back to the center mirror of his blue mini cooper, just as streetlights flashed quickly above the road.

He blinked, frightened.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the car stalling, not literally, as he desperately hoped the dark shadow of a figure was simply a figment of his imagination.

He screamed, loud, wailing, as lights hit the figure, the shadow disintegrating to nothing but air, before the car jolted forward, and blood began gushing into shards of broken bones and shattered glass, a firmness grasping at his limbs.

And then, all was blank; the only noise a drumming faintly in the background.

~O~

“Hey, how are ya feeling, Lou?” a handsome, raven-haired boy asked from where he sat next to the hospital bed. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which was probably true, and his eyes were bloodshot, hair mussed from its usual perfect quaff.

“Like death,” the boy addressed as Lou croaked, his voice cracking, painfully dry from a lack of fluids. It was the wrong choice of words, he could tell from the way his friend, Zayn, winced immediately before forcing an aggrieved smile.