The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Four]

  He ran wildly, bag banging against his back, and legs aching as they had no time to adjust to the speed. Alex didn’t care, he ran on, following the path, he sucked in sharp breaths, trying to circulate oxygen quicker, to move faster. 

  The back of someone came into view, running quickly, they were clearly faster than Alex, but they were trying too hard, and there was a limp to their run. They were injured, Alex was sure he’d catch them, he wanted to see, he needed to see. 

  “Stop!” he called out, voice wobbling as he tried to breathe in air around the words. 

  They carried on, Alex knew he’d have to stop soon, the path was wearing thin, the trees closing in and the terrain becoming more foreign to him, he didn’t know the woods, and they went on for miles and miles, people had been known to die out here, he didn’t put it past himself to get lost and starve.

  He was gaining though, he couldn’t give this up, he had to know who it was. They were slowing down, Alex could hear their panted breath, even over the roaring of blood in his ears. 

  “Bree!” he shouted out, almost desperately, and just like that, the person stopped, dead in their tracks. Alex didn’t see it coming, and his body collided with theirs almost instantly. 

  Both bodies sprawled to the floor. Alex found himself rolling, and suddenly, they were on top of him, but it wasn’t the innocent kind, where you accidentally fell and found yourself on top, this person was pushing down into him, pinning him. 

  “Who are you?” the voice was a snarl, so vicious and animalistic that Alex found himself cringing away. He couldn’t even reply, they stared down at him, and Alex caught sight of emerald green eyes, before smallish hands seized fistfuls of his black hair, yanked his head off the ground and slammed it back down, Alex saw stars, and he groaned. 

  “Who are you?!” the voice was an angry shriek, they slammed his head back down again. 

  “If you keep hitting me” Alex gasped out, he made an effort to keep his hands at his sides, if he tried to grab the attacker, it might only make it worse “You wont find out” he stuttered, his voice sounding hollow in his ears.

  They stopped pounding his head into the floor. But he could feel the weight of them perched on his stomach, not that it was a lot of weight, it wasn’t even constricting his breathing, and he guessed that they weren’t exactly trying to make things easy, by not letting him feel their full weight. Whoever it was must be small. 

  “Who. Are. You?” the voice was low, dangerous, and Alex knew that if he didn’t answer quickly, he’d be in trouble.

  “My name is Alex, Alex Brady” he stuttered. He blinked the black dots from his eyes, and then, the weight was gone, he thought maybe they’d ran, but he was foolish to hope. He felt hands on his shoulders, and then his whole body weight was being yanked from the floor, he stumbled and tripped, but they easily held him aloft. He was slammed into something solid, and his hazy mind slowly identified it as a tree, a hand was pressed to his throat, small and cold, and the wrist that owned it was pale. 

  “You were stupid to follow a psychopath, Alex Brady” the voice said, and Alex looked down, and down.

  She was tiny. At least two heads smaller than he was, and half his size in the weight department too. Her hair was blond although you had to squint to see that because of how dirty it was, instead of it being long and thick and curly however, it was cut off at her shoulders, and it hadn’t been done by a practiced hand either. The task had been handled by someone who was either blind, or just really mean. The ends cut off in all different lengths, and was jagged and choppy.