Gallows of Transgression (ON HIATUS)

f o u r

For the first time in a long while, thick clouds stretched across the afternoon sky and shrouded the sun behind their iron veil. They'd been wispy and creamy just a few minutes earlier, but it seemed as though a storm was quickly rolling in. Remi couldn't help but gape—she couldn't remember the last time there was a day like this on Merricrest. It was as though the island's wickedness had finally become so great that even the sun had to shirk away and hide its face in shame as the emotions of the citizens were reflected in the furious gloom of the sky.

Killure yanked her roughly around a corner, directly into a gloomy back-alley. Everything Remi saw took on a muted tone, all previous vibrance and life smothered by a blanket of grey. "This way," Killure hissed, clearly annoyed with her spacing out. "Are you trying to get killed, doll?"

Though Remi quickened her pace beside him into a near sprint, Killure was hardly exerting any effort at this pace. She couldn't help but feeling like a child who had just learned to walk waddling beside an experienced runner. "We were almost caught a few times back there," she managed between rapid huffs of breath.

Killure glanced down at his hands which were still coated in now thick, sticky blood. Crimson flecks danced across his dark skin as a wicked grin spread across his face. His canines gleamed menacingly. "Can't say I minded ripping them apart. It's been too long."

Remi glared darkly at him but couldn't come up with a valid counterargument. As much as she hated to admit it, and though the thought of murder made her gut churn, the death of those men had been necessary. Their intentions were to capture her and kill Killure—they wouldn't settle for anything less. They were already in their fifties, and even if she had time to stop and try change how they thought like she did with the men at the dock, Remi doubted it would have worked.

At least, that's what Remi kept telling herself as she and Killure darted from alleyway to alleyway to avoid being spotted as they made their way to her uncle's. In all honesty, she just felt like a hypocrite. Who was she to decide who lives and who dies, or justify their deaths to soothe her conscious? Guilt churned in her belly, doing somersaults and flips and spins until she felt nauseous.

"I don't see why we can't simply fly—it would be easier," Remi panted heavily, clutching her stomach as she tried to suck in as much air as she could with each gasp.

Tightening his grip on her wrist as he pulled her along, Killure shot an dumbfounded glance back at her. "Are you stupid? That's about the most conspicuous thing we could possibly do—it'd be like putting a target on our backs and screaming, 'Oh, kill me already!'"

His harsh words stung Remi's pride, for they were true and so blatantly stated the obvious. Still, he could have been nicer about it. Remi bit her lip—'then again, Killure's never been the nice type and probably never will be.'

She glared at him, but he either didn't notice or simply didn't care. Probably the latter. How was he not even the slightest bit winded? Even running, the Icix's movements were lithe and graceful, like that of a predatory feline.

Caught up in watching Killure's smooth movements, Remi didn't see the large hand that reached out and grabbed her ankle until it was too late. She staggered and fell to the ground roughly, her momentum making the fall worse. Moist gravel met her face as her head smacked hard against the ground, sending her into a stunned daze.

Warm blood sprayed across her face, shocking Remi out of her trance. She stared at her own arm which was raised in front of her face, clamped tightly by the yellowing teeth of a dirty, surprisingly heavy severed head. The rest of its body crumpled to the ground as blood spewed from it onto her face and clothes.