Purified by Fire

Chapter 5: In cold blood (II)

"Why are you stalling, Vicky? Are you afraid of me?" Anthony jibes, his amusement returning tenfold when Victoria doesn't attack right away. His blonde hair shines in the moonlight, appearing as grey and her mind sends shards that might have been memories to stab at her heart as blonde hair spread over a slab of metal in her periphery. She banishes the memory and concentrates. His eyes are as bright as a cat's as they flash in his run towards her. She had expected it this time so she lifts her fist as he draws closer. The knuckles connect with his jaw and she can feel the bones moving from the power of the hit, her skin meeting the scabbed over flesh of his scar. He doesn't fall, but he grins again, as if he's proud of her.

"Bite me!" she tells him, pulling her hand back then arching it towards his face again, her fist aimed at his eye socket. Maybe she can blind him momentarily and make a run for it while he struggles to get up. She misses and he kicks her in the shin. A pained breath leaves her as she falls down, rolling away and then getting back up to her feel. She swings on her back foot, lifting her other one and hitting him in the side with it. The tip of her shoe sinks into his flesh, then it knocks into his ribs. He jumps to the side, then runs, drops and swipes a leg making her fall. Her back slams into the ground hard, and she can no longer breathe, but she puts her hands on either side of her head, pushes into them as she uses her feet to spring herself to a standing position. He is prepared for it and so, when she turns to see him, he backhands her. She falls again and before she can do anything to rise, he catches her wrists and holds her legs down with his own.

Victoria closes her eyes. She can feel him, his chest pressing onto her own, flat hard surface bruising her as he lets his full weight sink into her. She has trouble breathing, but then he maneuvers her hands above her head, stretching her torso with the movement and causing her chest to brush against his own. He switches, holding onto them with only one hand, the other snaking down, caressing her cheek, then ghosting slowly over her neck, sliding over her side. She can feel tears pooling behind closed lids, but she bites her lips to keep them at bay. He then digs his palm into her thigh when she tries to use her leg to kick him off. The palm is burning through the material of her pants.

His face lowers, his lips brushing the swell of her cheek and then the shell of her ear. "I wouldn't do that." He whispers and grounds down on her again and she can't stop the grunt of pain as he does so. When she opens her eyes, she is met with a blinding smile from him that has her stomach churning. She fears bucking up to throw him off, she fears what it would do to him. The heels of his feet push into her calf hard enough to get a moan out of her and when he jabs four of his finger into her side , it makes her yelp in pain.

"You shouldn't have run from me, demon." He says, his voice a caress that has her whimpering in disgust. This time his lips are inches away from hers, his breath is sweet smelling as it mixes with her own rapid one. Her head is a haze, flashes of him bursting behind her lids and before her eyes, his amber ones making hers hurt with their intensity. She hates him. "Demon..." he whispers as he clenches harder on her wrists and she can hear the right one crackle then she feels the sharp pain as it breaks in his hold. She doesn't scream, biting the inside of her cheek until the soft tang of metal fills her mouth. "... we're going home." He continues as his hips push down and she can feel him now more acutely. She shivers, her skin prickling as dread flows through her every synapse. He then traps her legs in between his own, his thighs encasing her own, the heat of his skin causing her to flush sickly. His mistake.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She hisses, her lips brushing his as she lifts her head, then lowers it only to slam it into his own, forehead hitting forehead harshly. He frowns but doesn't make a sound until she knees him in the groin. He groans and she pushes him off and scrambles away. She crawls as far away as she can then slowly get back up, spitting out a mouthful of blood and holding onto her side. It pulses in pain, as her body unfolds. She wonders whether he broke a rib as well, but it seems unlikely. It doesn't hurt as much.

"Wretch!" he screams and she has the uncontrollable need to laugh. She holds it in and limps backwards towards the river. Maybe she can escape the current, and even if she cannot, at least she'll escape him.

"I'm not going back, Anthony!" she yells and recalls a sickly pale young man strapped to a table next to her many years ago. He was Anthony. She remembers his hazel eyes before they turned to amber, warm as they stared into her own, his matted blonde hair sticking to his forehead and sprawled over the metal table he was tied to, waiting for the doctor to come and unravel them. She remembers he used to make her smile some times, just a hint of the corners of her mouth lifting. He used to be hope, not the scar she has given him. She missed Anthony.

"Don't play a game you will never win, demon!" he responds and it cuts her deeply. His voice as he screams is the same even now. She shakes her head, she hasn't thought about this in so long. She turns her back to him as she has done ever since he became The Scalpel. She prepares to flee.

"You're wrong. It isn't a game you're playing, it's life!" the tears burn in her eyes, but she hears a loud squawk in the sky and there it is again. She recognizes his feathers, his redhead. The vulture is back and beckoning her to freedom. God, I'm going insane! She thinks as she runs fast towards the water. He – it – squawks again and she smiles. She can already feel the cold water seeping through her shoes and reaching her ankle when she looks up again.

"No..." she mumbles, glancing at the forest ahead. "Not them."