Slasher & Others One Shots (& stuff)

Evil // The Lost Boys

warning: abuse

The boardwalk was packed with people, even though it was a weekday. I was like many other people here, in Santa Carla, a runaway; looking for something, anything, better. My body still had fresh bruises and a few cuts over my skin, including the two cuts across my cheek and bruised jaw.

By the looks I received, people could tell I was a "new" runaway. Either they thought the beating I took had crossed a line- or it was the backpack over my shoulder as I weaved through people.

After getting a drink, I made my way to set on some steps, leading down to the beach. I just sat, watching people and the waves. Nobody approached me, and I was thankful for that; but also, I felt lonely. I hadn't been anywhere alone in years, so I had a voice in my head telling me it was wrong and that I needed to get back, but I couldn't. Not unless I wanted to die.

While sitting, a loud hum of engines filled my ears, causing me to turn slightly, only to look back out towards the water, leaning against the wall to my side as the hum became louder. After some minutes passing, I watched four bikes pull beside the stairs, and back up against the wall. They were some type of a gang, a pack, friends? I wasn't sure, but once the blonde closest to me, looked directly at me with a smirk, I turned my gaze back to the water.

"Hey girl, what're you doing, sitting here all alone?" one spoke, a different blonde, as he came to set beside me, his body brushing mine and acting casual- as if we had been friends for years.

I shrug, watching a particularly large wave crash, hearing girls squeal from the beach where they stood with their boyfriends and friends. He stayed there for a bit, attempting to engage in conversation and giving random dirty compliments as his friends snickered. The one who gave me a smirk, he had a short blonde mullet and bright eyes with some slight stubble- I realized as he squatted down in front of me, blocking the view. "Runaway?" he asks, it sounds teasing.

Ignoring him, looking directly past him as I crossed my arms over my chest seemed to earn a chuckle from his friends. "You know it's not safe here right, sweetheart? Whatever you're running from- you have better luck with it than here. You won't make it out here, not in the murder capital of the world" he taunts, and I feel my stomach drop to my feet and my heart in my throat. Not from unknowing or worry about dying here- but that nobody seems to think I'll make it- not even myself.

My eyes flickered to his as I stood up, quickly, causing him to smirk at me while doing the same, his friend following suit. "That's really cute, you think you're scary" my head lulls to the side a bit, "But mister, I've seen scary; and you ain't got his smile" he raises an eyebrow at my statement, and almost comedically, like I conjured it, I heard his voice.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother but uh- have you seen this girl? It's my wife, and she disappeared a few days ago" I turn quickly, slowly backing down the few steps and my back hitting the blondes chest- but it was my last concern. I spotted him, he was talking to a security guard, the older mans eyes flying around the boardwalk before he spotted me, and my body froze as he pointed me out, asking if it was me.

When his eyes landed on me, I felt like I could throw up.

He thanked the large man before turning back, the smile turning to a cocky grin as he crumpled the photo and tossed it to the cement while beginning to walk over. The thing to bring me back to reality was the blondes hand grip my arm, and I quickly spun and began running away from the brunette, threw the sand.

I heard him call after me, screaming threats that only I knew were threats. "Sweetheart! Come home, it's not safe out here" "Stop running, you're gonna only tire out faster" "I can't wait to hold you in my arms again"

It was only a matter of time before I felt a hand grip my bag and yank me back, forcefully enough to send me back and into the sand. He grinned while staring down at me, panting as I did the same, my eyes brimming with tears as I leaned up on my elbows, beginning to crawl back, only as he squatted down and gripped my ankle, yanking my closer to him.

"(y/n), did you really think you were gonna get away? I found your little map under the bed. Was it really a good idea to go through all the trouble?" I stayed quiet as he reached down, grabbing my cheeks and pulling me up to him with a grin, "Give me a kiss, show these nice people you love me" he gritted as I let out a whimper.

He hastily pressed a kiss against my lips, and I let out soft cries in protest. My hands gripped the sand and I slammed my hand against his face as I pulled away. He screamed a swear as I stood up quickly, watching him try to wipe the sand out of his eyes as I began running for underneath the boardwalk.

As I got into the darkness, I watched as he stood up and began stumbling over, shouting at me.

I moved to stand on the other side of a wooden piler, watching as he angrily made his way near. As he called me a bitch, I felt a gloved hand wrap around my mouth, causing me to thrash as they shushed me, spinning me quickly, his other hand placing a finger to his lips. It was the short haired mullet blonde from before. "Let's go, come on" he whispered, and I turned back to the brunette, watching as he squinted and peered in the dark, looking for me.

The blonde was the better option I decided, turning back to him and nodded before he began pulling me out the other side with him- where his bike was, but none of his friends there. He climbed on and helped me on the back before taking off through the sand, around the brunette. I closed my eyes and tucked my head into the boys back, letting out soft whimpers, my fingers shaking while gripping the front of his shirt and coat.

I hadn't been to sure how long the drive was, but when he killed the engine, he helped me off and began walking my shaking figure into a cave. I knew I should have been scared, but I was relieved. He used a torch, after lighting it, to light some metal barrels before taking me to a dusty couch and sitting me down and sitting beside me as I clung to him.

"There's more than him" he states suddenly, and my head lifts, looking at him. His brows are furrowed, looking angry, "that hurt you- there's more than him" he clarifies. I let out a small, sniffle as I chuckle, nodding before looking back up to him,

"Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood."

--

-Tomorrow we're trying something... new. I hope you enjoy it! It will be Bo Sinclair (of course because he's the easiest person I write for I personally think).

Do you guys like this type of stuff or nah?