The Night Vigilante

III. Grace

Grace

*Years Later*

~*~

            The music is blaring.

            I can feel the beat of the song rushing through my veins, digging deep into the very vessels of my heart.

            Body against body, I stand in the middle of the dance floor, people dancing and rubbing against me.

            I was hot.

            I step back, accidently rubbing against a body before pulling away. I feel closed in, breathing in the breath of another person.

            The lights swirl and everything flashes into a brilliant fragment of time.

            Lights. Smoke.people. music.

            Breathe in. Breathe out.

            I haven't felt this suffocated since the time I fell off that tree.

            I feel his hands slide around me, hugging me from behind. I instantly stiffen, his touch making my jaw snap.

            His breath is hot on my neck, his hands warm as he moves his body against mine.

            I try to pull away, his proximity setting me on edge.

            His hold tightens, pulling me closer.

            I try to relax my shoulders.

            He was my boyfriend. I wasn't supposed to feel this on edge.

            "Thatcher, I need to use the restroom," I murmur quietly, gently setting my hands over his.

            I turn slightly to look into his hard, black eyes, the sheer intensity in them making me want to shrink away.

            He was handsome-no doubt- but there was something dark, evil, about him that even his looks couldn't cover.

            "Come back soon," he whispers back, his nose brushing mine. His gaze flickers the slightest bit to the right wall.

            It only lasted a second- the look he gave to the men standing near the wall, but it was enough to remind me of whose situation I was in.

            He had eyes every where- men everywhere- watching me to make sure I wouldn't run.

            Thatcher lets go, but not before kissing me.

            "I love you," he murmurs, smiling. No emotion reaches his eyes.

            "Me too," I murmur back, slowly backing away.

            I push my way through the crowd, as far away as I can get from him,. I can still feel Thatcher's hard gaze boring a hole into the back of my head.

            It was getting hard to breathe.

            I felt like I was suffocating, dying slowly under a starry night-all over again.

            The cold air hits me hard as I burst into the ladies room.

            Three ladies-dressed immaculately in colorful dresses and Tiffany jewelry- look up, their lips puckered in disdain.