Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Twenty-One | Killian

A dim light flickered overhead, casting irregular, long shadows across the worn wooden table. A tattered dining mat covered the uneven surface, swirled with dull colors and a suspicious red stain on one corner. Splayed across the table were discarded and empty glass bottles, packs of cigarette's and old, greasy playing cards. The stench of alcohol stung his nose, tobacco smoke choking his lungs as Killian blinked through the unpleasant wafting fog. His heart hammered in his chest as he heard raucous laughter, ringing in his ears as if it were bouncing through a long tunnel.

A large, violent hand clapped onto Killian's shoulder, gripping him painfully. He dared not move, staring at the table cloth beneath him, clenching his hands on his knees. Digging his nails into his palms, Killian could feel them starting to bite through the flesh. A familiar voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck and arms, chilling the blood in his veins. Now, he dared not breathe. "What the hell are you doing here?!" They drawled. Killian's hands clenched even tighter. He was like a rabbit, cornered by wolves--prey.

Fear. Fear was the only thing he felt. Killian could feel his whole body shaking, every instinct screaming at him to run. Fight, get away—scream, do anything. Anything to get him out of that place. Jerking himself away from the man's iron grip wasn't an effortless task. Straining as hard as he could, Killian managed to rip his shoulder away from the man's harsh hand and stumbled to the floor. His leg, surprisingly, wasn't wounded anymore.

Scrambling onto his two feet, Killian bolted to any direction away from the table, suspended in darkness. A sudden bright light flickered on, illuminating the bar around him. Shoving his way past faceless patrons, Killian glanced over his shoulder to see the man slowly getting up, gun in hand. A bullet shattered a beer bottle right next to his hand on the bar. Without wasting another second, Killian slammed his way out of the back doors, coming to a stop. A chain link fence appeared right outside of the doorway, blocking any direction he could imagine.

Gripping onto the links and shoving his feet between the small spaces, Killian scaled the harsh metal wires and jumped over, landing with his feet hitting the ground. Police sirens swirled blue and red colors throughout the gloomy street. Flashes of gold badges and proper uniforms sent fear striking through his chest like lightning. Skirting into a dark alleyway, Killian heaved for breath. The only thing he could hear now as everything faded into the background was the heavy beating of his own heart.

Closing his eyes tight, Killian pressed his hands over his ears, tangling his fingers into his curly hair. Taking in a few desperate and deep breaths, he waited until everything suddenly stopped. The noise was gone, everything was gone. Just silence—a soft flapping of wings and birds chirping. Slowly peeling his eyes open again, Killian relaxed. A bright green meadow in a park sprawled in front of him, filled with white, thorn less roses. Moths fluttered through the grasses, and there he saw Jasper, sitting in the midst of white flower petals. A single monarch butterfly rested on his finger, and Killian made a start to head over.

Suddenly the grasses stiffened and died, but the white roses still remained. Birds had gone silent, the moths tucked in between the stems and the air became eerily still. Almost as if the world was holding its breath for something. Jasper stood, shaking the butterfly away from his hand. It fell to the ground and dissipated into ash. "Jasper?" Killian's voice was harsh, his throat parched, as if he hadn't had any water in days. "What's going on?"

Crossing the field towards Jasper, Killian stopped just shy of a few feet. It looked like Jasper, but something was off. It wasn't him. Jasper would never look at him with such cold, harsh disdain. His nose wrinkled into disgust, his eyes flashing irritably. A sharp popping sound split through the silent air. A dull burning sensation spread out through Killian's body, radiating from his shoulder. Wincing, it took him a few moments until he realized he'd been shot. Fast footsteps approached behind him, and Killian turned just in time to see a larger man grab him by the throat and shove a knife through his stomach.