Overwritten

49 : Fear

Before I had time to react, Scott grabbed my wrist, stopping me from falling backwards. My boots skidded on the ground as I struggled not to fall. But as Scott pulled me forwards, I didn't have time to resist, not as he dragged me to the side.

There was a small gap between two nearby buildings, perhaps once the gap had been larger, but age and lack of maintenance had caused the space between them to grow tighter to a point there was hardly enough room for once person to fit. I couldn't manage to free myself before Scott pulled me into the darkness between the buildings, slamming me against the wall. I felt the cool crumbling stone press against my back, a deep ringing in my ears.

I thought for a moment that this was it, this was how I was going to die.

I was desperately trying to ground myself, struggling to process the reality of the situation. Scott covered my mouth with his hand as he held me against the wall, his body practically pinning me in place. My mind was racing, adrenaline pumping. I was struggling to breathe, struggling to breathe.

"Please... trust me..." his voice was below a whisper, a breath of words. When I finally realized what he said, I could hardly even take it as serious. Trust you? That was the very least of what I wanted to do at this point in time. Trusting him would be foolish.

Scott had an arm against the back wall behind me, his face so close I could feel each uneven breath against my skin. But when I looked in those eyes, I found myself caught up in them, seeing something I never expected that I would see.

Fear.

It's not so easy to fake fear like that, true fear is near impossible. Whenever I would watch actors playing roles on television, I always found those to give them away. They could hold every emotion, even love, and suspend my disbelief through even the most doubtful of storylines.

But they never were truly scared.

They would widen their eyes, gasp, tremble or even stutter their words. But it was a ploy, just an act, and it was so easy to see that they were safe. That they weren't truly scared of the monster in front of them, just pretending to be. It always took me out of the illusion.

But when I looked at Scott's eyes, I didn't see that act, I didn't see that ploy. Because behind those glasses, was raw and genuine fear. The kind of fear that makes your heart sink, your mind race and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

I slowly nodded, and Scott dropped the hand from my mouth. I felt as though I could breathe again, despite being pressed against someone who terrified me to no end. But Scott wasn't acting, he wasn't playing some sick game, he was just as scared as I was.

There was a loud bang, so loud that the building against me seemed to rumble. It rattled my bones, made every muscle feel like jelly. I couldn't help but gasp, and Scott quickly brought a finger to his lips as if to let out the sound shh although he stayed silent.

Perhaps I had been wrong. Again.

Perhaps I knew Scott's intentions, perhaps I didn't. Perhaps he was evil and just looking for his next victim, or perhaps he was simply a boy lost in a world just as much as I was. Perhaps he loved Jessie, but what was more likely was that he didn't. Perhaps I had just overreacted.

When I had been little, I often would go to the very worst possibility. I had a habit of taking the smallest scenarios and taking it as a much bigger issue. I never found that habit to die. I always have gone to the worst-case because then I wouldn't be shocked if it did happen.

But it was clear that perhaps it wasn't the best idea.

Scott wasn't evil. I realized that now. Perhaps he didn't always have the best intentions, but nobody was perfect. Perfection in of itself is imperfect. Perfection would be a flaw, with no room to grow or change. It would be a stagnant husk of a person. Blank. Cookie-cutter.