Kill Me, Kiss Me

SIXTEEN

WARNING: This chapter contains extreme violence.

THE Pit was not, as its namesake suggested, a pit. It was a maze of cold steel and concrete walls looming either side of him. In the blur of his vision, everything flashed grey and apathetic. All inhuman.

Theo staggered to his feet, cupping a hand over the pounding pain in the side of his neck. The flesh was tender and hot, already swelling to the size of a golf ball. Someone had knocked him out, Graham? Keir? His memory was fuzzy.

He had to get out of here.

"Little pig, little pig, run as fast as you can. Or I'll huff and I'll puff, and I'll cut you all up."

Keir's smooth voice rang loud and true in his ears, so precise that it seemed to come from within the darkness of the leading concrete walls. It was as if... he was standing right next to him, breathing down his shoulder.

Fingers jolting, he limped forwards, fighting against the aches and the pains crushing his body. There must be an exit somewhere, he needed to run, he didn't know what that psycho would do... No, he did know.

He knew. From the freezing disinterest in the dark of Keir's eyes, he knew, from the scathing bloodlust in Keir's voice, he knew, from the unbelievable number in the man's heart, he knew.

Keir was going to kill him.

He had meant it when he had said he'd cut him to pieces.
   
Gripping the freezing cold wall, he pushed himself forwards into the gloom. Overhead light bulbs washed the monochrome concrete a watery bile green, and even though there was no breeze in the glacial passage, the lights swayed side to side lightly as if being pushed.

One ripple of green after another, onwards, he had to go on. If a hunt was what Keir wanted, he'd give him a hunt. He couldn't die, he couldn't die, he couldn't die, so what did it matter?

Theo chanted the line again and again within his head, swerving left and then right with the winding path of the line he had to walk. Cold sweat painted his palms to slick canvases, he believed it, he had to. He could get out of this alive. He needed to be calm.

Studying the surrounding walls, Theo's eyes narrowed, the grey was blurred around the edges of his sight, but were the passages getting narrower and narrower? He drew a long shuddering breath and extended his arms. His fingertips brushed the hard walls, but with every step he took, more and more of the solid folded into his touch.

And will it eventually end up so narrow he couldn't pass through? He couldn't even swear. Did he go the wrong way from the very beginning? So, should he turn back now and go the other way?

His feet couldn't stop moving forwards, one step after another. It was too late, this was the path he chose. There was no time to do it all again. A scream of anger and frustration welled inside his throat, but he didn't let it grate out of his throat. He didn't dare to even breathe too loud. Was keir near?

Where was he?

The path cut into two abruptly. Left or right? Each option now was just narrow enough to let his body through. Just when he was about to step towards the right, a smudge of red caught his sight. Swallowing, he inched towards the right wall and stared at the streak.

It was only ten centimetres or so of length dripping down a congealed rust red. Fresh, it was still fresh. Each droplet - a perfectly tipped bead grabbing onto the wall.

Theo's face blanched, and he stumbled backwards, hobbling hurriedly through the left tunnel instead, scuffing his shoulder against the hard stone. Quick, he had to run quicker, he was too slow. Any second now, and Keir might catch up.

Gripping his right knee, he tried to run, and his fists tightened, and he cursed himself for getting into a scuffle with the man. But how could've he known?