D.D.Williams . 5/24/25 D.D.Williams . 5/24/25

FIRST TWO CHAPTERS

PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

CHAPTER ONE

A faded memory

The funeral was better than expected if I’m being honest. It’s been a week since her passing, and everyone is acting as though it’s a normal death. Typically when someone passes, a reason is given to friends and family: old age, a car crash, murder, etc. Those are the things I’d prefer to hear. Normal.

Damp hair drapes over my shoulder, sticking to the small part of my exposed chest as rain soaks it, and tears stain my cheeks while droplets merge within them. I don’t know if the liquid seeping into my mouth is my own or rain, but either way, even the heavens weep for her.

The gathered crowd dissipates until I’m the only one left. Hushed…Unmoving…Rigid…Transfixed. Simply put, hurt.

Rosie was without a family. No one mourns her other than me, yet strange bodies had attended her funeral. False friends claiming to have known such an amiable soul gathered to witness the mangled body of someone they met in passing. Fuck’em all.

Freshly dug dirt becomes a darker tint as the rain collides with it. The smell penetrating my nose is a reminder that no more than a week ago Rosie and I were running through a haunted field. Halloween was always her favorite holiday. Each year she’d make plans for us to visit as many haunted hotels, houses, and fields as we could in a day. A fun thrill, being chased, and all too consuming until it wasn’t.

I place a lily at the center of her casket when workers signal my time has ended. “This hole needs filling, and there’s other graves to dig,” they say as if I’m an inconvenience.

Dirt falls and thuds over her walnut casket, snapping me out of deep thought, which consumes my harsh reality. To my right, a man shovels more dirt and tosses it into the hole like someone who is immune to feeling anything.

Dark brown hair fastens to the forehead of his expressionless, pale face, and the veins in his arms bulge with each shovel swing. Part of me envies him, yet the other part wonders how many bodies he has buried till now. Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Nah. It has to be in the hundreds.

His eyes find mine, accompanied by a sad smile. Empathy or sympathy? Something about it appears robotic, hinting he does this often and without enjoyment.

“Excuse me, Miss, we need to finish up here. I’d be more than happy escorting you to the entrance,” the guy on my left inserts. I cut him a squinting leer and then continue looking forward. Though his words sound genuine, his expression tattles what he desires.

His lingering stare traces my body hungrily, and disgust blossoms within me, causing my lips to curl. My best friend lies dead in a wooden box where she’ll remain for eternity, and the one thing embedded in this asshole’s mind is him getting his dick wet.

I scoff while turning away, letting water fly from my hair. No doubt he is eyeing my ass as I exit. Most men do after I’m in their presence for more than a second. “You’re pleasing to the eye, and every guy wants their cock buried deep in you. This is your one purpose, but remember, my cock is the only one that matters.” The ghost of Dominic’s voice plays in my head.

Rain pounds against the fresh cut grass as the sky becomes unforgiving, but my pace remains even. Slow and unrushed while I clear these spiteful thoughts. There’s no one else needing me. In fact, there’s nothing else for me, period. Rosie was the single family I had left.

Not entirely true. I have a mother. If I could call her that. My younger years were spent surviving the men she let into our home, and more times than not, my room was an inescapable prison. Every so often, one of them would become ‘lost,’ probing for the bathroom and stumble in. It wasn’t until I was old enough to fight back that thing’s took a dramatic turn.

Evelyn, my mother, would often say how she wished I was handed to someone else when things in her life went wrong, but the thought rarely took root in my mind.

Making it to the cemetery’s entrance, a guard waves me over beneath the awning. He is a heavyset fellow, an inch or two taller than me, with more hair on his chin than head. “Are you okay, ma’am? Can I help you with anything?” His words are soft and sincere.

“No, I’m fine. Just leaving.”

“Where are you parked? I can retrieve your vehicle,” he rebuts while his eyes slip for a second, finding their way to my breasts. He realizes his abrupt action and reverts his gaze. “The weather is getting worse, and someone like you shouldn’t be out.”

Someone like me? A damsel in distress or easy prey?

Ignoring his chivalrous notion, or lack thereof, I shove through the gates, exhausted, and head towards my car. The rain doesn’t frighten me. Hell, I welcome it with open arms. The cold embrace, the scent letting me know its presence is near. A clear ‘fuck you’ from Mother Nature if there ever was one.

Anger swells deep within me, and the center of my palms itch. It wasn’t fair she was taken away from me. Clasping my fingers into a tight fist, the radiating heat warms my hands a degree above normal.

A short time lapses as I walk from her grave to my car, and my back finally meets the cold touch of an unheated seat. I blow an anguished breath, inhaling and exhaling to calm my turbulent emotions.

Little blemishes of red bubble beneath the surface of my cheeks, changing my baked almond skin tone. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and I’ve come to realize controlling my breathing helps.

A minute or two passes, and my rear-view mirror reveals my almond skin color is back, my palms are no longer heated, and that annoying itch that tags along is gone. With one last breath, I start the car and leave Rosie’s final resting area.

“To the sweetest person, this world didn’t deserve you. For whatever reason, you saved me. I shall never forget the oath made in my darkest hour. Until time permits a reunion, I will forever love you.” Rest easy my Rosie.

……

The drive home is quiet besides the sound of rain slapping against the windshield and other vehicles passing by. An animal attack. A fucking animal attack. That’s what her death was ruled as?

“Bullshit! They weren’t there. What type of animal disappears into the shadows, has tentacles for arms, and uses them like whips? Animal my ass!” A dangerous growl vibrates my throat, summoned from a dark place.

I went over Rosie’s attack with the officers investigating her death, and they all laughed in response. Voicing my memory wasn’t correct because I’d gone through a traumatic experience. Bullshit upon bullshit. And Detective Jacob wanted to extend his help by insisting that I was a suspect.

Fuck him up the ass with his own baton.

Heavy rain blankets my windshield, mixing with the golden sun rays, when a car further up comes barreling down the road. Their tires screech as they swerve to avoid hitting a dark figure standing in the road. The vehicle flips and crashes into the forest at an alarming speed, and I mash my breaks. “Shit!” I gasp, witnessing smoke slither from under the battered car.

“Who the hell is on the road?” Darting my eyes over the area, I pray they didn’t hit them. But there’s no sign of the figure. My head snaps towards the car engulfed by smoke as a small fire breaks out, and a piercing scream travels from inside it. “Shit,” I huff, opening my door, the rain inviting itself in.

Wind forces me back as if something’s blocking me from interfering with Death’s plan. But I’ve witnessed enough lives lost as Death herself dragged Rosie into ‘Her’ embrace. Why do I feel Death is a woman? Only a woman can bring you to your knees in a way that destroys the very essence of your existence. Only a woman.

More torturous screams carry over on a dreadful breeze, and against everything holy, my legs push into a full stride. “I’m coming,” I yell over the clicks of my heels striking the slickened ground.

Deep amber and orange flames grow sizable with each passing second, and a light blinds me as another car barrels down the road. “Stop!” I shout with both hands held high, yet they show no signs of halting. “Stop, she needs help!” But the two-tone vehicle swerves around me.

Blame isn’t placed upon them for being a coward. Most people shy away from danger, so their actions only make them human.

Fire begins crackling, and my single relief is the rain stopping it from getting out of control. I rush towards the car, and an echo of glass splitting pings over the small forest, followed by the back windows exploding from the heat.

Fuck…The pressure hits me full on, and I’m tossed aside along with the air from my lungs and embraced by cement biting into my flesh. Thrown free of the only pair of decent heels I own. Pieces of sharded glass compliments the aches, and dull stings chase after my trickling blood. Pain washing along with it.

I-I didn’t know windows could explode like that. Even my thoughts are muffled as everything deafens. I can feel my pulse pounding inside my ears while struggling to recover, knowing I’m her hope for survival. Get up Kyra. Searching for some semblance of strength while disregarding this obsessive ringing.

Finally on my feet by sheer will, I inhale deep, and a pop reinstates my hearing. “Hel…” *cough* *cough* “Help,” she screams, and my adrenaline answers. I scan her flaming vehicle and rush over, finding her trapped inside and yanking on the seatbelt.

“Hold on,” I command, and her head snaps to me with a look of hope peeking through. “Turn away.”

Of course, the one window still intact is the driver’s side. Once she turns, I retrieve a large branch, snapped from a fractured tree, and swing with all the might I can muster. A hollow clang emits, yet the window stays intact, and swinging again ends in the same result.

My hands ache from my tight grip, but I endure it once more. The branch shatters against her window, and pieces of wood soar through the air as my legs buckle. “Fuck!”

“Please help me! I don’t want to die!” she screams, pounding against the window.

“I’m not going to let you die. Hold on.” Strong words fight through my sensible doubts.

I examine the area for anything of use, but fierce flames continue their way up her car and around the passenger side, with the rain doing everything to hold it back. Or that’s what I’m telling myself, not wanting to think the universe is forcing me to endure another death. That would be cruel. That would be faithless. That would be…damning.

Water pours down, obscuring what little vision I have, and my hand acts as a shield when something amongst the trees pulls my focus. “You,” I whisper. The dark figure from earlier stands beyond the treeline–watching. “Help!” My voice breaks in anguish, but it stands silent and unmoving.

From inside the car, a yelp prickles my arms, lifting small fibers of my hair. “The fire’s inside!” she pleads.

“Move!” With a last look into the forest, I find its eyes glowing a distasteful pink hue. My legs part, and I kick with exhausting anger. My failure is mocked by a thudding sound. I hate those fucking pink eyes. This is all its fault.

Using more force, I kick again and hear the glass crack. I relish in the moment of adrenaline. Yes. I’m close; one more kick will do it. Raising a knee towards my chest, it crashes down, shattering her window. “Quick, give me your hand.”

“I-I can’t. My foot’s caught under the dashboard,” she coughs out, pulling at her leg while reaching for me. Flames consume her back seat, and at any moment, they’ll find their way up front.

“We need to go,” I grunt, and our hands clasp tighter. She shakes her head, expelling more coughs as she wheezes in between breaths. But I refuse to leave. Smoke travels up her car, targeting my nose with a kiss before burning my lungs with the taste of soot, forcing our hands to separate.

“Please don’t–don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, but we need something to pry you free.” I’m trying to stay calm, yet this internal battle is more than winning.

“There’s a bat…in my backseat. It can help…right?” She panics between breaths, so I hurry to check, seeing flames waving out the window.

“I won’t be able to reach it. There’s fire all over the back.” My cough continues as I take a regressive step to avoid the wayward flames. “Do you have anything else?”

She looks past her car and points to something in the distance. “That bag of…golf clubs.”

“I’ll grab it. Keep trying to free your leg.” On instinct, my body moves towards her tossed bag roughly abutting a tree. Puddles splash, and my legs crumple as an unexpected hole steals my balance. “Fuck!” Wincing at the pain radiating in my ankle from rolling it, I hear the strain in her screams and know I need to press forward.

“Hurry! The fire’s spreading!” With no time to assess my damage, I hobble the remaining distance and retrieve her bag. It’s a bit weighted, but I manage to swing it over my shoulder and head back when her shriek slices the air. “It’s burning my legs!”

Small bumps form over my skin witnessing the car now drowning in smoke, sending a dead chill up my spine so intense, it’s as though the air’s temperature decreased.

“I’m coming,” I shout, dropping the bag and grabbing a club for each hand. Spasms in my ankle urge me to stop, but I can’t. Not when I’m this close to saving her.

Glass cracking fills the air once again, and behind it are more screams of distress. My legs pump with urgency, and I ignore the pain. “I can make it. It’s just a few…”

Abruptly, a massive explosion detonates into a roaring flame, followed by an unbearable shockwave colliding with my body. I’m launched back onto the dampened ground, releasing the clubs as I roll to a stop. Drops of rain cool my forehead, and a faint hum fills my ears. Agony throbs through my chest from the wind being knocked out of me, and with a groan, I flop to my side as muffled screams cover the space.

They aren’t coming from me.

My hands twitch as I force myself to my knees. Snared by the yellow and orange hue, the remaining air retracts from my lungs, and a pain much worse than physical hits me. No…Please, God, no. Shaking my head in disbelief, that irritable humming sound dissipates, and a new reality is born from another failure.

Flames consume the car in full, and her silhouette sits visible, staring back while her body jerks from the fire eating away at what’s left. She yells in agony until the fire swallows those too, and despite my body’s attempt to cement me from moving, I do so anyway.

There’s nothing I can do. That much is clear. But this happened because I was too slow, too weak, and too late. My hands graze over broken wood and car pieces, and my knees are soiled from dragging them through puddles, but I make it back to where the golf clubs lay, the spot of Death’s victory.

Another person I couldn’t save.

Her body melts within the flames, sitting motionless with one hand reaching out. She’s gone, and the scent of burning flesh weighs heavy as the last bit of her car is encased in fire–until even its silhouette vanishes.

“Why?” A cry erupts and my trembling hands pound the dampen ground. “Why! Why! Why! Why!” I repeat, like an answer will present itself. Hatred consumes me, and my skin itches from within, staring at each wisp of fluttering flames.

I rise, limping towards the smoldering car, and those same destructive flames retract as though they’re afraid of me. “I wish it was raining harder. She doesn’t deserve to be left here.” My empty pleas merge with the bellowing thunder from above.

Brakes screech, redirecting my attention. An all-black vehicle pulls over, and a man in a trench coat steps beyond the opening door.

Worry trickles from his throat. “Kyra, are you okay?” Scoffing, I turn towards the fire as it continues burning any trace of life within it. Now a roaring chaos, it continues engulfing her vehicle.

Lightning thrashes above us, and thunder howls a second after. “Come on, we should leave. It’s not safe, and this weather’s getting worse,” he instructs, but I disregard the attempted protection because Detective Jacob isn’t here on official business. Well, maybe he is. Me. I’m his ‘official business.’

It’s no surprise he made an appearance; hell, he was at Rosie’s funeral, parked four cars behind mine. It makes sense he’d follow me here. Nice of you to pointlessly appear now.

“Let me guess, Detective. You assume I did this also?” I narrow my gaze in his direction.

“We can discuss this later; you shouldn’t be so close to the scene,” he answers, continuing with his approach. Hissing radiates from what’s left of her car, and the fire begins to dissipate beneath the heavy rain, making it harder to see a couple feet in front of me.

I whisper, “We need to see who she was.”

“See who, who was?” Jacob bites.

“The car. There’s a woman in there–Was a woman in there.” I correct myself.

“Shit.” His response seems caring. Perhaps he does. But my faith became nonexistent after the shit show he put me through with Rosie. Detective Jacob aborts any attempt to remove me and bolts back towards his vehicle. I listen to him call for backup as the responder asks for more information. When asked about the cause, his throat bobbs. “Potential accident or…” Gripping his radio firmly, he adds, “Homicide.”

And there it is. The conclusion I waited for him to reach.

Aches from my ankle and chest surface, reminding me of the sustained bruises in my failed attempt. Death came for someone again and won. She’s a cruel bitch, hell bent on destroying everything around me, and it’s only a matter of time until her will seeks mine.

The sun hides beneath the horizon, afraid to face me while illuminating the small flames fighting for survival. My eyes move past them and into the surrounding trees. Gone. Could I have been imagining that too? Maybe I am looking for someone else to blame.

“The cops are on their way. They’ll find out who she was and her next of kin. There’s nothing more you can do.” A semblance of assertiveness coats his tone. I push through the pain and walk past him. “Where are you going, Kyra?” he asks, noticing my tattered black dress is singed with rips along my stomach.

“Home. Unless you feel here and now is the best place suited for more unethical questioning?” Not bothering to look back, I add, “I’m sure you remember where I live.” My car isn’t far up the road, abandoned and probably still running. Regardless, I’ll walk home if it means no longer being in his presence.

Once I’m sitting inside and away from prying ears, I test the resilience of my steering wheel. Wails of sorrow pour past my throat until the internal muscle becomes sore and bruised. My battered knuckles continue striking the steering wheel, crying until the depths of my tears run dry, and even my soaked clothes share the notion. I couldn’t save you, and I couldn’t save her.

……

It’s been a few weeks since the funeral, and home feels…empty. Lifeless. Sitting blankly at the table, I think back to how Rosie always woke me up with pancakes and eggs before work, and I’d have dinner ready before she returned for the evening. My job allows me to work remotely–the pleasures of working in cyber security. I create firewalls that can’t be hacked. Unless I’m the one hacking. I provide a good defense for protecting things others deem small, which is my selling point. Ironic. I’m also well versed in other aspects like code cracking.

The sushi aroma escaping the bag in front of me reminds me of a distant time. Years ago, Rosie introduced me to it, and when my tongue hit that first ‘Philadelphia roll,’ it was heaven. She laughed at the speed I scarfed them down, then passed me hers. But that was a time when things were simpler.

As I open the bag, a sigh gives way. “This one’s for you, bestie.”

Grief came in waves over the past weeks. Some days were better than others and some…worse. Nightmares of a fiery vehicle haunted me, and burning screams played on repeat. Between that and Rosie’s death, sleep became something I loathed entirely.

Eating was once a delight, and now it’s more of a necessity. Most days, the only time food crosses my mind is during dinner, so the entire day would collapse before I notice any hunger pangs.

I can’t fix breakfast, that was her thing, and I’d betray her trust if I did. Silly to think? Sure, but to let go of a memory so good, when there aren’t many left; hurts.

A breeze of cold air seeps through the vents, telling me winter is coming, and a chuckle escapes at the thought. We’d binge watched Game of Thrones, and every year, Rosie would yell, “Winter is Coming!” in an accent she wasn’t good at.

The time reads half past eight, and streetlights are turning on down the road. Dinner is over, and for the past few minutes, my gaze has wandered around the living room, looking at old photos and cases containing my martial arts trophies. Even with all my training, I still couldn’t save her. Useless.

I grab a jacket off the rack–Rosie’s to be specific–mine was destroyed during her attack. Placing it over my hoodie, I slide my shoes on after, then grab the foldable blade I now carry. Courtesy of that dreadful night.

How am I supposed to move on from losing her? I can’t, but this place will permanently become my grave if I don’t attempt to deal with her death. So tonight, a walk will be the start of doing so. The locks click, and the numbers on my door stare back. “Zero, two, zero, four.” One of the reasons we chose this apartment was because it held both our favorite numbers. “Come on, let’s go,” I whisper to motivate myself to walk away.

My lungs swallow the cool air, and a rogue gust flows over my shoulder. Other people have the same idea, as I am not the only one out for a walk tonight. Low chatter and dogs barking travel about. It helps quiet the thoughts, and for these precious moments, it’s a weight off my shoulders. The goal was to reach the street’s end, but once there, my legs continue moving.

“Going somewhere?” a nagging voice interrupts.

“A walk, Detective Jacob. Or is that a crime?” I bite back, giving him an eye roll.

“You’re still on our suspect list, Kyra. Two deaths happened on your watch, and you were told to stay put until we–”

“Does it look like I’m trying to flee? Do you see any bags in my hands? I’m walking. Unless you have orders to arrest me, leave me the fuck alone.”

He sighs in annoyance, but that makes two of us. I have little care about being investigated. I didn’t kill Rosie, no more than the woman trapped inside her car. Now if the charges were not being able to save them, sure, lock me up. That much I deserve.

“We still need to talk, and I have more questions,” he yells from the curb. “I’ll be here once you’ve finished with that ‘so called walk’ of yours.” Gracefully giving him the middle finger over my shoulder, I round the corner.

There’s a little daiquiri shop not far from our place, my place, that we’d stop at any time we were out. As I grow closer, the idea of getting one doesn’t seem half bad. With two people in line, I take the third slot, and my phone buzzes, startling me. More messages from social media. People convey pictures with Rosie as if they were friends, yet none of them attended her funeral, and the ones that came shouldn’t have. After another eye roll, I place my phone into my pocket. To hell with all of them.

“Hi there. How can I help you?” a young fellow asks. The green tips of his hair blend against the green hues of his eyes.

I return a fake smile and proceed. “Can I get a peach bellini with an extra shot please. Make it a medium.”

“Wait. I need to see some I.D. You don’t look twenty-one,” he flirts.

“Dude, I come here all the time.” I’m not in the mood for his flirting.

“I don’t make the rules, kid. You must be twenty-one to buy a drink.” His teeth flash, and he points to a rusted sign. Wrinkles fall over my brow as I pull out my I.D. and hand it over. “Ohh. You just turned twenty-one this year…Kyra,” he mocks, then hands my card back. “I tell you what, drinks are on the house.”

A few minutes pass, and the line grows longer. Some resort to small talk while they wait. “Ma’am.” The young fellow returns. Against my wishes, he holds a size larger than what I asked.

“Thank you.” My smile is dry and everything but kind.

“No problem, hope to see you soon.” He winks those green eyes, and mine roll with exhaustion.

I head towards the park’s running trail, often filled with people doing what I dread most, exercising. Don’t get me wrong, I may be out of shape and can’t run worth a damn, but my clothing size doesn’t change. So that’s a win. My lungs simply don’t have the capacity to run. Not that I want too anyway.

An empty bench calls to me with promises of resting. My ankle is healed, though now and then, numbing pain finds its way back. And what little burns I sustained, are now a light spot of skin. A blemished reminder.

Popping the seal on my daiquiri, I blow out a breath of frustration.

The asshole wrote his number on my cup with a little note beneath it. ‘If you like daiquiris, you should try cock-tails. Give me a call cutie.’ And a damn smiley face under it. He’s not even cute. I mean sure, he has a nice smile and eyes, but that’s it. I can’t get off on a nice smile. So, fuck him and his little ‘cock-tail’ he has between his legs. “No, thank you.”

To my left, a couple walks down the trail, holding hands and giggling. Apparently, it’s funny enough for them to stop, and the guy leans forward, slapping his knee. An exaggerated gesture. She pushes him against one of the trees, kissing him with a passion so wild, he’s even caught off guard.

I avert my attention opposite of them and find a man strolling towards us in the distance. He wears a long coat, almost scraping the ground, and a crisp earth scent passes by me from the same direction. I pull up my hood, disregarding my surroundings, and focus on my drink. *Sip*

“Stop.”

“No, you stop,” says the couple heading my way, play-fighting. He slaps her on the ass, and she screams while running away. It’s futile to say the least, because in an instant, he catches her with a firm embrace, and the cuteness of their laughter echoes.

Regardless of another seat across the trail, they perch beside me. She’s on his lap with his face in her neck. Seriously? Giggles erupt, and I remain straight, but my peripheral catches it all. *Sip* His hand caresses the side of her hips then eases up towards her breast.

“Stop,” she whispers, jerking her head towards me. My phone vibrates, and I can’t be happier. Thank God for notifications. My fingers bounce between social media apps, trying to focus on anything other than these two.

He whispers back, “Don’t worry, she can’t see us.” Oh, but I can, sir. Clear as fuckin’ day. He catches the one time I decide to pry and smirks. Caught off guard, I quickly stand, leaving my beverage and walk as far from them as possible.

Trees and bushes pass by until the couple are no longer in sight, and I walk some more. Reaching another bench almost a mile away, I sit. Silence is finally my only companion.

My heated temperature lowers after meeting the seat’s cold touch, and I turn my head upwards, catching a single star shining brighter amongst the many. “Rosie, girl you should’ve seen this. Your freaky ass would’ve asked to join,” I chuckle. And when a moment of peace finally finds me, my cheek collides with the ground from something striking the back of my head.

CHAPTER TWO

Scars that won’t heal

My vision is speckled. A tingling in the pit of my stomach vibrates over my lungs as I gasp for air, and my palms pulsate a matching beat to the relentless pounding in my head. What the fuck just happened?

There is no time to react as something harrowingly wraps over my leg and causes me to stiffen. With a strong pull, I’m drug across the running track, releasing a shriek of terror.

“Let me go!” I yell at a faint silhouette, tugging a rope tethered around my ankles. Not only am I seeing double, but all surrounding colors start to blend.

Another forceful yank lifts me into its embrace, forcing my back to arch against the crushing pressure of its hold, and I squeal for release. Whatever thing this is constricts my lungs even more.

In one swift motion, a piercing ache strikes the soft flesh between my neck and shoulder, drowning out any thoughts until I’m consumed by rage. This son-of-a-bitch bit me.

“Get. Off. Me,” I grunt between words as a citric burn fizzes around its teeth. My skin pulls between them, and after a few agonizing seconds, the pressure subsides. However brief, I gasp deeply before sharp teeth press four more pairs of bite marks into my flesh.

I wince, waiting to be consumed by more pain as its grip holds firm, bending me in an unnatural way. But such pain never surfaces, yet a calming sensation bathes over me.

For a brief time, everything seems like a dream. Flashes of happy memories, muscles relaxing, all tension melting away, and the pounding in my head fades. Problems up till now appear insignificant. I am at peace–until I’m not.

Yanking its teeth away, my skin rips from the movement. Agony comes full force, and the dream I found myself in shatters, bringing back this reality. My fist collides with the side of its head.

“Shit,” I wail. The ground rushes towards me as I violently fling from its grasp. Rolling aside and clasping my fist, I feel prickles of heat weaving through the now cracked bones like I punched concrete. Who the hell has a skull that hard?

A demon’s growl surrounds me, and though my vision hasn’t cleared, it’s enough to squint through the tears building up. I bear witness to what nightmares are made of as I see an otherworldly being standing a few feet away, fading in and out of existence.

Its hands are withered with branch shaped fingers, and the rope used to pull me is something made of dark whips.

Crawling backwards, I ignore the afflicting pain. “What the hell are you?”

The ambiance muffles, and my other senses struggle to keep up. Death is trying Her damndest to take me, playing by unfair rules, but what else should be expected from a heartless bitch.

“Your soul…That sweet smell.” Its haunting tone chills the warm blood in my veins, causing the hair on my arms to rise. “It pours off you, and I demand it,” it snarls.

A jolt of suffering stings around my bite marks, but I jump to my feet, racing back the way I came. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this ‘thing’ kill me.

“Kyra, help,” a voice cries out. A melody striking my thudding heart almost brings me to my knees. Just a few strides away, my pace halts at her tone. I snap around, witnessing a cloud of black smoke peeling away from its skin, revealing Rosie’s face–My Rosie’s face.

But something feels off. There isn’t a hint of life in her. She is pale. Stiff. Dead. Her eyes swirl with smoke, her hair is black as tar like it absorbs all the surrounding light, and her body twitches with an unnatural motion. This isn’t my best friend. I watched her die and be buried a few weeks ago. Didn’t I?

My heart breaks all over again at any implication of having her back. A desire to reach out courses through me, but peering inside those daunting eyes is like falling into a torturous abyss that I can’t sit through again.

“You’re not Rosie. Stay the hell away from me!” I scream until my lungs burn. I want–no–need this to be true, but the numbness of her absence fights to remain.

“Please don’t let him take me.”

Desolate smog coils around her arm as she extends it. Could this indeed be her? A war between what I know is true and what my heart desires is more than enough to give in.

Taking a cautious step forward, I question, “Rosie?” If there’s any chance of saving her, why is my body so reluctant to move?

“Kyra,” she pants back. Emotions weave through her lifeless eyes and wetness coats her bottom lids.

“Tell me it’s you, please,” I beg, but she stands at a distance, staring back emptily. My heart smothers all doubts until only a need for her to live remains.

I advance, locking onto her conflicting expression and reaching out with a surge of hope. The essence of time–nonexistent, and our fingers interlock. Her touch is cold against my warming skin, and her lifeless pupils awaken from their slumber.

These past weeks have been hell, and I would’ve given anything to have Rosie back.

Caressing her face, I ask, “Can you hear me?”

“Kyra?” she responds. Her head shakes, breaking that imprisoning trance. “What happened? What are we doing here?” Confusion morphs her delicate features I’m so accustomed to.

“We need to leave. Tell me how to save you before ‘it’ comes back.” Pulling on her arm, I urge her as nature stills.

She tears away with a ‘what’s going on’ look pinching her brows. Gray freckles gloss over the tones of her reddish-brown gaze, hooded under an overcasting shadow. “Save me from what?”

“Rosie, please, let’s go!” Reinitiating my grasp, she gives in, allowing me to lure her towards the park’s entrance. It takes some effort, but after a small lapse of time, our pace increases. My head swivels, looking for any sign of Death’s dark dealer.

There’s no plan of stopping until she’s safe in ‘our’ place where nothing can hurt her–again. My lungs are on fire as we run. Our fingers squeeze tight, refusing to let go for the slightest moment.

Relief wells within me, seeing the earlier couple making their way down the path. They’re the first set of ‘real people’ I’ve seen since this started, and the entrance shouldn’t be far behind them.

A crippling affliction strikes my soft flesh where its teeth pierced me, and I falter, almost collapsing. Yet Rosie holds on tight.

“Are you okay,” she asks, slowing her pace.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Only a few more feet until we’re out of here.” Regaining my footing, I notice the couple proceeding past us, and I yell, “No, don’t go that way. There’s something down there.” My throat closes on the last decree.

They scan over us, whispering among themselves, but continue against my warning. The selfless part of me wants to follow and ensure they listen, but the selfish side continues moving.

Another sting sets my shoulder ablaze; pain searing down and growing. “Damn,” I spit, lurching at the intensity and coming to a complete stop.

“Kyra, you don’t look well?” Something humorous wrangles around her statement.

Taking a moment to breathe, I state, “I’m fine.” Then I slide my hoodie collar over my shoulder and assess the damage. It’s a horrific sight. My skin pulses around five bite marks, all seeping black liquid from their wounds. What the fuck. A foul odor of rotting flesh reaches my nose.

“Give into the pain.” Her tone is demonic, and I peer up, noticing she’s no longer at my side. Glancing around, I see an all too familiar view. I’m back where the creature held me with Rosie standing outside my reach.

Another wave of torment explodes through my skin, and on instinct, I grab my shoulder. Confusion fills me. One moment we are near the entrance, and next, we are back in the middle of the park. Was I dreaming that? How?

She exclaims, “Your soul!” But it’s not Rosie’s voice, and my lip’s part to respond, yet something shields it. Suddenly, shadows within the trees migrate towards her as if she’s calling them. Commanding them.

“Rosie?” My silence breaks. She leers back with hatred, and her disguise morphs into something more…deadly.

“You killed me. You did this.” Fright pales my face. I fight to stay upright as sweat beads from my cheek in tandem with the unwavering pounding in my shoulder, not letting up for a moment.

Rosie stalks closer, and my feet dig into the soil, pushing away. I retreat a step, and she advances two. Damn it. Beyond us, a faint light shines through the devilry trees, watching and waiting–bright pink hues, identical to those from the crash that witnessed me fail as I tried to save the woman. I hate those fucking eyes.

Her voice deepens into a growl, adding to her demonic tone. “I need your soul to ascend.” But why? What am I missing, and furthermore, how…why is it wearing her face?

“Stop. Let me help you,” I plead. We just escaped only for her to return to its embrace.

“Help me? It’s a little late for heroism, dearest best friend,” she hisses. This isn’t Rosie. She wouldn’t spew such hatred and accuse me of killing her, so why is it happening?

Her approach is quiet as if air slides beneath her footing, and in my stumbling retreat, I fall. For an instant, peering through murky eyes, everything dulls except the night’s glinting stars. A few blink in a laughing manner.

Death is watching from up there, enjoying the show.

Rosie growls, baring her teeth with tar-like liquid coating her lips, and I shudder. Her body and face become shrouded in weaving shadows, as though she is behind an ominous veil, and the earlier beast returns. A looming grim reaper.

“The screams came from this way, Detective!” someone yells, and I gasp as the demonic being vanishes.

It’s them. The couple from earlier along with Jacob. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s coming next. More death and chaos. Discomfort keeps me slow, but I promptly hop to my feet.

“Hey, you need to get out of here,” I demand, shuffling my way across the grass and back on the running track. Hesitant, they eye me with suspicion while Jacob reaches for his weapon. I am on edge, searching between the trees and turning in circles.

“Is someone after you?” the detective asks, moving closer.

Out of breath, I keep a low voice like it’ll make a difference. “You need to leave. It’s not safe.”

His brow furrows. “Calm down. Tell me what’s going on.” But again, I’m too late.

A dark cloud slithers behind the couple and consumes their shadows. Wrapping its arm around the young lady’s neck before her frightened partner can react, tentacles explode from its other arm, swaddling him and restraining his voice.

Their chance of survival is plummeting fast.

“What the fuck is that?” Jacob shouts, turning and raising his shivering pistol.

I step closer. “Rosie, you don’t need to do this. Let them go.”

Squeals come from the young lady as tears trace her cheeks. The dread of watching them die rips my heart and opens unhealed scars.

“Did you say, Rosie?” Jacob finds his resolve enough to assess the situation. The guy within the foul creature’s hold kicks and screams, but his gaze never leaves his partner.

“There’s no time to explain, Detective. You have a gun, use it,” I huff in irritation. What the fuck is he waiting for? But instead, he remains stiff, frozen in a paralytic state while this creature continues squeezing the life from its two victims.

My blade is still tucked away, and if he’s not helping, I’ll do it myself. I stalled in hopes of saving her, but with other lives at stake, I’m left with one choice. Fight.

I retrieve my knife before charging towards my impending doom, tightening my grip and letting determination guide me. I’m going to kill this monstrosity and send a message to Death, myself.

“Kyra, stop. If that’s Rosie, you could harm her and the others,” Jacob tries reasoning with me, but his warning isn’t welcome. This isn’t my best friend, no matter how many times it persists.

A resounding crack filters through the area, and the guy goes limp before being tossed away like nothing more than trash. I freeze. My jaw slackens in utter shock, and his partner thrashes with painful screams, bellowing to her fallen lover.

“Please, no,” I mouth. My blade should have pierced its body by now, so why can’t I move? What’s keeping me from attacking?

The blighted demon bites her neck, slowing her movements until they cease. Was this supposed to be my fate? Is this why I can’t move? Thinking about my own bite marks, another sting in my shoulder answers back.

She hits the ground beside her deceased lover, and blood pools from beneath her lifeless body. Again, I’m too late. Forced to witness another life taken.

Death’s message is loud and clear. No matter how close I am to helping, I’ll always remain…Helpless.

It snarls, “Your soul will ensure my ascension.” Leaning forward, tar-like smoke glides down its face, revealing Rosie’s once more, but she’s not begging for help. There is no sorrow or regret within her features. Only malice and hate. “I’ll devour your soul and be reborn a God.”

A chain of incendiary blasts results in me ducking as Detective Jacob fires his weapon. Shot after shot enters the being, yet it remains planted and unphased.

“Run, Kyra!” he demands. “Get out of–”

It takes a fraction of a blink for the demon’s hand to twitch and send tentacles flying into Jacob’s body, silencing him and leaving blood and dismantled parts amidst the air.

“No,” I wail, until the raw muscle within my throat burns.

Massive blood puddles surround me, depicting a sorrowful soul forced to gaze upon her own broken reflection. My failures. As tears fall free, something inside me snaps. Beneath a thick layer of warmness, something frigid crawls from the deepest part of my soul until I’m subsumed by rage.

I find this false Rosie eyeing me in wonder. Awaiting in a taunting manner. Good, because I’m done with running and being afraid.

Vexation takes root, and my entire body heats with conviction. That son of a bitch is going to die. Pushing through my stiffness, I rush in and thrust my blade, finding a home deep in its chest.

“Kyra, why?” the thing asks, using her voice in a dolent tone. For a moment, I settle, examining her features and noting a hint of pain furrowing her brows. My hands tremble with regret until a crooked smile tugs at her lips, and I remove the blade, striking again. The second thrust hits something, and it shrieks in agony.

Swinging for my head, I duck, pulling the blade free and slicing at its thigh. Another attack comes faster, and I’m barely able to evade, but my years of martial arts training won’t go unused. I avoid the strike with a swift step back, pivoting and aiming for its ribs. I watch as my blade impales the demon, and its howl is bliss to my ears.

It retaliates, yet I’m quicker, twisting around and pulling the blade with me, creating a deep gash through its stomach towards its back. Relishing in another howl as it vanishes, I take pride knowing the demon can be injured as I watch blackened blood drip from my blade.

Movement startles me, and I swivel, listening for any sudden sounds. As my peripheral catches the edge of its shadow, I’m knocked down by a blunt strike.

Pain consumes every inch of my body, but despite how much that fucking hurt, I’m still able to move. With my blade in hand, I know this fight isn’t over, so I roll as it prepares for another attack. Two whips aim for my body, but I’m back on my feet in a flash.

“If you think that’s enough to kill me, guess again,” I warn, taking one step closer, then another, until my strides increase. Each inhalation brings me closer to falling as my chest and shoulder warn against moving. But fuck that, and fuck him, her, or whatever the hell this demon is.

Another tentacle hurls my way, splitting in two, and I dodge the first with ease. The second one–not so much. It deeply grazes my leg but not enough to cease my movements. I strike again, taking my reward with a collision to its ribs, yet it doesn’t stop there.

I dodge and attack, using precise blows, but once again, the demon’s luck lands a hit. I’m tossed aside, banging my head against the ground, but this time, getting up isn’t so easy as something threatens to puncture my lungs.

Fuck. I think I broke a rib. Curling into a ball, I cope with the torment. The crunch of rustling grass alarms me, but I can’t move. Every twitch sparks more pain pinging between organs and bone.

“Your soul,” the demon states, announcing its presence. A shiver slides down my back, and my core demands that I rise, but tears haze my vision. This is unbearable. So was witnessing the couple’s demise and watching Jacob reduced to nothing. But seeing Rosie’s face is…soul shattering.

The blade lies beside me, and though I yearn for it, the slightest reach makes me want to implode.

Something thick wraps over my side, lifting me, and at the last call of will, my fingers glide across the blade, remembering my best friend’s words. “DESS. Don’t Ever Submit or Surrender.”

I’m turned around to face this ungodly thing head on, and it is expressionless. Just immoral and ominous eyes staring back.

“What did Rosie do to deserve this?” I ask, my lips quivering.

“Your smell. It clung to her.”

My smell? Sure, we’d been running through the haunted woods together, but how did…My jacket. She was cold, and I lent her my jacket. Which is the only reason I’m wearing hers. Mine was destroyed. This thought hits harder than any punch could. Because of me, she was killed.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie,” I speak before a numbing pressure strikes the right side of my chest. Blood races towards the ground, and I witness a tentacle piercing straight through me. Its leer holds nothing but death.

Pressure strikes again, and I choke. Another tentacle finds its home beneath my broken rib. And hidden within the trees, silently watching, is the same pinkish glow. I hate…those fucking…eyes. Blood spurts across my puffy lips as a cough bubbles up, and a foul taste lingers in my mouth.

My weighted lids close, granting me a reprieve of darkness, and they say your life flashes before your eyes when facing death. I disagree. There’s no sense of things I wish I’d done. Just an empty void and a fleeting promise for her revenge.

An overwhelming revenge.

If I’m to die, then this thing comes with me. To leave it in this world after taking everything from me, no. I won’t let that happen. If not now, I’ll get to that bitch Death in the next life.

With valiant strength, I plunge my blade. It pierces the demon’s chest, forcing a dreadful shriek to chase after the darkened blood flying from its mouth. Time doesn’t permit it to dodge my attack. I nudge the blade deeper as heat weaves through my stained fingers, and a smile raises my cheeks while it bellows.

“Fuck you,” I spit. Holding my knife with slickened hands, I strike its chest repeatedly. Continuing slicing at its frame for as long as I draw breath. Another tentacle enters me, but that doesn’t relax my movements. One of us is leaving first, and it won’t be me.

More attacks enter my body, and finally, my arm falls limp. We both hit the ground as its tentacles remain plunged through me. I wanted to watch the life drain from its eyes, yet Rosie stares back.

“Kyra–” she coughs, and tears wet both our cheeks.

I spurt the warm liquid draining from my lips. “I’m so sorry for all of this.” I lost my best friend weeks ago, and though this thing wore her face to spite me, that doesn’t negate what I’m feeling now.

We hold this moment as silence caresses us.

“Your soul–” she coughs again.

Returning one of my own, I sputter, “You…Can’t…Have it.” I remove my blade from its chest, piercing it again. Streams of smoke whisk over her face, visually bringing back the demon’s.

When losing a high quantity of blood, I know my body is supposed to grow cold, but all I feel is heat. An immense amount of it. Like mine is rejecting the notion of dying, and who am I to object? The heat grows blinding, and waves of energy begin flowing around us, yet something about this feels okay. Death can’t exist in the light. This means she can’t have me either.

Smiling, colors stir through me, and another pair of glowing eyes appear, opposite from the pink tint that’s been lurking within the shadows. Their black contrast mixes with the flowing hues before an explosion goes off.

TO BE CONTINUED IN REBIRTH OF ORDER….Signup for ARC opportunities.

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