Lamb To The Slaughter ✔️

4

I'm in the arms of a monster, the arms of a man covered in blood, the arms of a man that has tried to kill me. 

We fall through the air. Quickly. The wind feels painful against my skin. 

My life is in blood-stained hands. My arms are wrapped around him, tightly, I grab handfuls of the back of his shirt. My face is pressed against his chest, his skin is not warm, I do not hear a heartbeat inside of his hard chest. 

I make the mistake of opening my eyes and looking down. My hair blows everywhere, my lips part, as I watch the cement sidewalk behind the building get closer and closer. It's approaching quickly. I shut my eyes, preparing for him to let go of me, and let me die.

I hear a noise. It's loud. It sounds like rocks crumbling. My grip around him grows tighter, and so does his arm around me. Feeling his arm holding me tightly and not feeling anymore wind, I decide to finally open my eyes.

I look down. He landed on his feet, his feet leave prints in the cement, breaking the area. He does not have a single scratch, and as of right now, I think I don't either.

I jump out of his grip, and he lets me go. My heart pounds loudly from the adrenaline. 

My feet hit the ground, and I quickly look myself over, making sure that I was fine. My breathing lowers once I see that I am. 

I stand in front of him and move my head up to look at him. His black veins have retracted, I can no longer see them, only the blood that covers him. I look at the ground. The surrounding area around his footprints are cracked, it looks like they go on for miles. 

"That...that didn't hurt you?" I question, slightly in awe. 

His black eyes stare at me, without a hint of emotion. 

"I don't feel pain," he tells me over the sound of sirens in the distance. The blood on him looks darker now that it's dried. "I don't feel anything."

My head snaps in the direction of the sirens. My heart is in my throat. If they catch me with him - I'm fucked. They'll capture him again, and I'll lose my license, I'll never be allowed to practice ever again, and all my life would have been wasted. 

"Come on," I tell him before turning around and running in the direction of my car. I don't turn around, I just trust him to follow me. As I run toward my car, I see the pole with the security camera on it fell over from the force of Atlantic landing. It lays on top of several parked cars. But not mine.

I reach my car, and swing the drivers door open. Atlantic reaches the passenger door, but hesitates. I narrow my eyes at him and ask, "What are you doing? Get in!"

I get in. And thankfully, a moment later, he does too. 

The ride is silent. I drove like a maniac until I was out of the city. My drive was 30 minutes, I lived in a quiet place, with an isolated house. I always liked to be alone.

But now, now I question it. Because of my want to live away from others, I'm now at risk, offering my home up to somebody I shouldn't, somebody I should run from.

But instead, he sits in the passenger seat of my car. Silently. 

I glance over at him, taking my eyes off the road for one moment to see the bloodied basically stranger beside me. 

"I'm not going to have any clothes for you to change into," I speak up, my voice breaking the silence between us. 

In my peripheral vision, I see him turn to look at me. I give him a look, too, looking into his eyes which are no longer fully black.