Guardians: The Last Elder

Chapter 2: A lonely child with milky eyes

"We live in different worlds, different realities" 
~Pete Hautman (Otherworld) 

                                                                               ________________

(3 days later)

School was horrible. It's always horrible, to be honest. But these past three days have been worse. All that anybody could talk about was the murder and that's the last thing I wanted to discuss. Whenever my mind reeled back to the victim's cold, pale body, it was those symbols etched in his skin that stood out starkly in my memory. And every time I thought about those markings (mind you, unwillingly), a cold shiver ran down my spine. I still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was about to go very wrong. But then again, I always did have a very wild imagination.

Right now, as I walked back home, my eyes were swiftly moving, scanning the surroundings as if I were expecting a guy dressed in all black with a balaclava cap covering his face to come leaping out of some alleyway and probably stab me in the back. And the fact that the sun was going down the horizon so rapidly didn't help either. Maybe I shouldn't have accepted my friend's offer to eat lunch in her house. Fortunately, her house wasn't too far from mine but the more I hurried, the more the distance seemed to increase.

I pulled out my phone and instantly winced when I saw the number of text messages and missed phone calls from my Mom. Maybe I should have warned her that I would eat lunch elsewhere. But even if I did, she would've still panicked. 

She always disapproved when I stayed out late or went somewhere without first telling her who I was going with, where I was going and whether I was going to be back by curfew. And that seriously annoyed me. But I couldn't argue with her because pissing her off was never a good idea. Although she was almost always a cheerful lady with a good, hearty laugh but when she was angry, her voice took on that hard steely edge and her eyes darkened so that it looked like a huge storm was on its way. It was enough to make anybody weak on their knees.

After I texted my Mom that I would reach home in a few minutes and put away my phone, I had the curious feeling as if something or someone was following me. I swiftly turned back and stared at the darkening streets, feeling my stomach churn. I hurried my footsteps, the feeling of being watched unshakable. 

I reassured myself that I was being unreasonable. But I still sighed with relief when the park came to view, knowing my house was not far. However, as I crossed the park, I saw one of the swings swaying, a lone child sitting in it. I stopped on my tracks and squinted towards the child, wondering if I should ask him if he was lost or something but I didn't feel good about it. It looked like something out of a Hollywood horror movie or maybe I was just getting paranoid.

It was as if the child could feel my gaze on him because his head turned and I could vaguely make out his face. Oh, he was Thomas, Mrs Clare's son! What was he doing here? Shouldn't he know better than to be in the park all alone after all that happened in this town? He had always been a troublemaker and was most probably hiding from his mother after doing something he shouldn't have done. Sighing, I trudged towards him, calling out, "Hey, Thomas! What are you doing here?"

But he didn't answer, he kept staring off at the distance. Weird, I thought. He was always quite bubbly and chatty.

That should've been my first signal that something was off but me, being the idiot that I was, decided to keep walking towards him. When I reached him, I dropped down beside him in the swing.

His face was turned away from me as I asked, "What are you doing here, Tom? Shouldn't you be at home? Your Mum must be worried-"

But I was cut-off mid-sentence when he turned to look at me. For a second, he looked normal enough with his messy, wild hair and dark skin. But then I noticed his eyes – they were completely milky white with no pupils or irises. I jumped away from him, a scream ripping through my throat.

"T-Thomas?! W-what happened to-?!" I cried, stuttering my words in fear and disbelief as I backed away from him, my heartbeat skyrocketing.

And then he spoke, in a whispery tone that definitely didn't belong to him, "You're going to die, Ava Young." Then his face turned towards his right side, expectantly, as if awaiting somebody's arrival. But I wasn't about to wait for anything. I was already turning and was about to run off when two figures appeared in front of me, blocking my path. 

My eyes widened when I saw them approach. They didn't look...human. They were both tall and thin and seemed to be swaying slightly along with the harsh wind. The temperature seemed to drop drastically as they arrived, leaving me shivering and shaking. They were wearing tattered black cloth that extended towards their ankle but did nothing to hide their bare bony feet that barely had any skin on them. Their hands were peeking out as well and were just as skeletal as their feet. A huge black hood covered their faces. Again, I felt like I had seen them somewhere before. But I couldn't imagine where.

I turned again but behind me was standing Thomas, his eyes still milky and pupil-less, his boyish features twisted into a creepy sneer and somehow he managed to frighten me more than those two inhuman figures.

They closed in on me slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. I swallowed, my heart thudding in my chest, fine beads of sweat forming in my forehead despite the cold. I'm going to die, I thought even as my eyes searched desperately for an escape route.

"Get away from her, you demons!" a voice yelled, cutting through the silence of the night.

A voice that was quite familiar.

Suddenly, a bright light filled my vision and the hooded figures seemed to shrink back, a pained sound escaping them as the light touched their exposed skin. Standing behind the figures was my Mom, her hand carrying an object that I couldn't quite make out but it seemed to be the source of the light. My shoulders sagged and I thought I could weep with relief when I saw her, glaring at the creatures, unafraid. I was about to run towards her when I felt somebody grab me from behind. It was Thomas, his small hands now wielding a dagger. And it was pointed at me.

"Stop that light," he said coldly, his voice still not his. "Stop it or else I'll kill her."

Mom seemed to notice him for the first time. Her eyes reflected confusion at first but then realization dawned in them. Her voice seemed to be a bit shaky when she said, "Let her go, Thomas."

"No," he said. "I'm going to kill her."

At that, I started thrashing away from him. But his grip was like iron and I couldn't so much as budge the kid.

"Thomas," my Mom pleaded. "This is not you. You're just a child."

"I don't know what you are talking about. I'll do as I've been asked to by my master. I'll kill her," he said with determination.

"Well then," Mom said. "You leave me no choice." 

Abruptly, she whipped out a sword from her back, its blade glinting harshly. I stared at her, amazed and startled.

Thomas smiled, as if he had been waiting for this. And then, before she could take one more step, he pierced the dagger in my back.