He is the purge, he is AGUST D, he purged night through night, he is sociopathic, he is insane, AND HE KILLS.
He is hidden between university students, quiet, deadly and is known for being coldhearted.
But when Meiko starts seeing the similarities...
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The night was frigid, cold and almost making me hypothermic. Every breath I took, it was like sharp shards of ice being forced down my throat. It hurt, but I didn't turn back, I didn't want to humiliate myself anymore than I needed to.
In a way, I wanted Bella to worry, I wanted her to feel the pain I felt, to care for me, to worry. Just the idea of turning back and seeing the look of Bella's face made me boil.
I wanted her to feel bad, I wanted her to feel how I felt. I pushed away the thought of crying. I had cried enough. I didn't want to cry anymore, with my throat aching and my heart wrenching.
What friend lies to you? What friend chooses a toy over their best friend? Over their best friends well being? What friend ignores your texts?
"Not mine," I snapped, aware that I was talking to myself. Also aware, that there was no one around.
I tuck my coat tighter around my waist, turning a corner and into an empty alley way. All I could distinguish was the flickering street light, and the feeling of my stomach drop.
Where was I going? What was I doing?
I had no one else, I would have to live out my pathetic decision on leaving the house at eleven am. I would have to find something to do for the next eight or so hours till Bella goes out.
I stumble through the alley way, my ears and eyes blurred with the sound of cars speeding by and the night sky's softness.
Though I believe this alley way takes me into another street, it does not. After I turn into the right alley way, it's a dead end.
It's silent, and it makes my stomach drop once again. Though not just from the dark, dark silence; but the dark silhouette lying at the end of the alley.
I freeze alittle, my breath hitching in my throat, and I feel as though I had just swallowed my tongue and choked.
The sound of a muffled scream makes me blanch. The sound of a woman's strangled scream made me shudder. The light flashed above, and a strangled scream left my lips when I saw the mangled body of a blonde, woman.
Blood, everywhere, across the walls, across her body, her face, her stomach, her feet, the floor.
I had seen her before, seen her...
Seen her on the news...
The..
...
The reporter...
I stumbled back, bile rising within my throat. My eyes watering, hand clasping over my mouth to stop the wrenching screams from leaving. I tripped on my own feet, falling, falling onto the floor.
Something had latched onto me, someone with cold, callous hands. I could feel it, even through my coat, I whipped away, turning to face the silhouette.
Blonde hair.
Blonde hair.
Black eyes. Staring at me through the dark.
"We need to go," his voice was soothing against the hardened anger and disgust I felt. My hands trembled, I grasped his in my own and he slowly, gradually lifted me up.
With such satin delicacy, he pulled me so my head cradled into his chest, so he could wrap himself around me. My silent horror masked in the mellow of his touch.
"We need to go," he whispered. "If the police find either of us here, we will be suspects, with both cases."
He had no hardness in his voice. He didn't speak like he usually did, he didn't have any spite in his voice. His hands, massages into my temple, I could feel his long fingers pressing into my scalp, distracting me.
It calmed me too, I could never deny how I felt. With all the attention, with all the care he was giving.
He led me away.
"What about her? She could be alive." I trembled, hands trying to pull him back. His hands were frigidly cold compared to the warmth of my skin.
I couldn't see his face, only the glowing hair, and the dark, dark eyes compared to the pale skin.
"Listen to me," he whispered, face close, grasping my cheeks in his hands. His hands burned, and they were damp, making the wind slap against my face. "You're going to come home with me— wait, why were you even here?!"
"I'll tell you when we go home, please just- please get me home-"
"Yes, yes, Of course." He mumbled, scurrying me along. I trembled in his arms, but I couldn't seem to cry. I was cry-less. I probably looked sociopathic... not crying...
He pulled me close, taking me around the corner and to his car. I had never been so close to someone so attractive.. well that was a lie...
As soon as I slipped into the passengers side, the longest sigh left my lips, my body going slack against the cushions.
Yoongi had slipped beside me, his hands choking the driving wheel. He turned to me, teeth in a sneer.
"What were you doing?" The softened touch had seemed to only been temporary. His voice was hardened, almost defensive.
"I- I'm sorry," I freaked a little, hands going to wipe my eyes. There was nothing to wipe. "You were right Yoongi. She was with Jimin, and she knew about everything and still ignored my messages. She came home, and we fought and I left. I knew I couldn't go back, I couldn't forgive her—"
"You'll stay with me."
"Oh—"
"For as long as you need. If you need a week? Fine. A month? Fine. Forever? Forever."
