This had been a bit longer but the end bit needed some work and it fit better with the next snip.
Thanks go to
@sunergos for betaing this for me.
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><----------><Ghostly Reflections><----------><
><----------><Arc: 01.1><----------><
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Desperately, and with as much strength as I could muster I reached for the banister that stood only inches away from my fingertips. It was all in vain though; no matter what I did, no matter how hard I stretched, my fingers would always be mere inches away. Always there, just outside my reach.
Suddenly, a pair of dainty hands clamped down around my ankle, pulling it out from beneath me and I fell on my face; smashing my nose into the hardwood stairs. Dazed and disoriented from the stinging pain in my nose, I could barely struggle as I felt the hands grab me by my arms and lift me to my feet.
"Now, now Taylor. Using violence to solve your problems? What ever would your mother think?" The rough hands holding me up spun me around and I was looking Emma eye to eye, her face scant inches from mine.
We were close enough that I could practically smell the blood dripping out of her nose from when I had punched her only moments before.
A cruel grin stretched across Emma's face, exposing all of her teeth and distorting it into an evil caricature. "But then again we'll never know," She leaned in close, her eyes widening and her pupils contracting into pin-pricks, "since, ya' know, you killed her n' all."
I shook my head in furious denial, trying to shut out my friend's poisonous words as my freshly butchered hair swished about.
Emma grabbed the sides of my head to still me and forced open my eyes, "It's okay though. I know just the place for someone like you, somewhere you'll never bother people again."
And with that she pushed, sending me hurtling down the Barnes' stairs and tumbling head over bottom. I was just able to make out the indistinct form of the Dark Corruptor as she stared down at me from over Emma's shoulder. Then, it was all gone in a blur and I was falling, falling through a maw of spikes that had opened up at the base of the stairs, falling to a sharp pit of death that reached up, stretching out to-
"
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP."
Time froze, my nose mere inches from the bed of death that Emma had installed at the base of her stairs.
"
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP."
I tried to place the strange sound, it was so familiar, almost like-'
"
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP."
Wearily, I cracked open my crusted over eyes and stared disdainfully at my alarm clock. Its searingly bright, neon green numbers illuminating my nightstand and burning into my eyes.
"
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEE-"
Snapping my hand out lightning quick, I slammed my palm down on on the annoying device; mercifully silencing its incessant beeping. Letting my head sink back into my pillow I began to relax from my sudden awakening; trying to remember just why I'd gotten rid of my old alarm clock when I felt a slight tingling run up my arm from my hand. Which, before I could remove my hand, was immediately followed up by the sharp pain of sticking a knife into a wall socket. I was instantly alert again; flopping out of my bed and onto the floor.
Grumbling, I pushed myself up, glaring hatefully at the little device as I grabbed and slipped on my glasses.
"Stupid tinkers, stupid college students who can't wake up," I gripped while I rubbing some feeling back into my hand and lower arm. "Stupid ToyBox, and their stupid capitalism."
Sighing as feeling returned to my arm, I frowned when I saw my breath billow out in front of me in a thin, wispy, cloud of mist. My frown quickly turned into a grimace as I felt the sudden outbreak of goosebumps on my skin and a sharp chill that made me rub my arms furiously for a moment.
Cocking my head I listened, but I heard nothing except for Dad's snoring from down the hall and the creaking of the house. What was noticeably absent however was the hum from the heater in the basement that had been ever present over the past few days.
Rubbing my arms again I could only sigh in exasperation. "Guess the heats out, again," I muttered bitterly and began my morning stretches, my muscles popping a little at the strain of the simple exercises.
That wasn't to say my morning stretches weren't difficult of course. No pain-No Gain and all that, but, at least I was better off than I'd been during my first week. The seven days of hell it had been, where I'd barely been able to grasp my hands behind my back, touch my toes, or even grab my ankles without stinging, burning, pain that left me aching hours later.
Easing out of the last of my stretches I stripped out of my pajamas and quickly donned a set of particularly ugly grey sweats that clashed spectacularly with the pair of green running shoes I had splurged on. Then, to finish my ensemble, I pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail, tying it off with a rubber band before giving myself a final once over in the mirror. Quickly brushing a few stray hairs back, I grab a bottle of water from a value bulk-pack under my desk and slipped into the hall, silently closing my door behind me and creeping down the stairs; the creaking of the house and Dad's rumbling snores giving my feet a steady tempo.
Pushing open the front door I recoiled as the sudden chill of the outside air hit me like a physical force before slipping out onto the porch and facing the snow dusted street. Hopefully, the last vestiges of Brockton Bay's unseasonably early onset of winter would fade soon. Early November was the time for cold wind and sunny skies,
not snow, sleet and rain. But, if the lessening amount of snow was any indication, I would soon be able to go for a run without nearly freezing to death .
For now though, I would just have to deal.
Shivering, I rubbed my arms and legs together; the scratchy friction of my sweats providing a rather soothing warmth that, in normal weather, I would have found annoying. But not today though. Today it was butt-ass cold and stretching my arms above my head I breathed the cold air deep into my lungs until I felt I was going to burst. Then, gradually, I let it out in a slow exhale that blocked out my vision for a moment. And when it cleared I was off, hopping over my front steps and settling into a steady pace on the lightly snow covered sidewalk.
Hell, if I was lucky, I would be able to finish my run without getting too wet.
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I wasn't lucky, and by the time I'd reached the boardwalk I just
knew I had jinxed myself. Really, it was the only
possible explanation I could come up with that would be responsable for me stepping in four puddles of muddy snow-slush, getting hit with a half empty Starbucks cup that I was pretty sure had been filled with cigarette butts and getting partially splashed by a car going by. It was either
that, or the the universe really didn't want me to finish my run.
'Well,' I thought to myself as I stepped victoriously onto the boardwalk, 'the universe can go fuck itself.' Stopping, I looked up and down the boardwalk, glancing at the benches lined up against the railing until I spotted a one that was relatively free of snow. I headed over to it.
To be completely honest though, I was in a shit mood: I was cold, I was wet, and I the smell of stale coffee mixed with cigarette butts was starting to get to me.
But, I had gotten through half my run for the day despite that. So yay me.
Collapsing onto the bench in a dead slump I stretched out my legs and let the frustration bleed out of me. Just for this one moment, I was content. Just sitting here and letting everything fade away as I looked out onto the bay, watching as thin sheets of ice crashed up onto the beach; shattering into little glittering bits that sparkled in despite the overcast skies. Hell, not even that tasty Beefcake-Rent-a-cop making a steady Beeline towards me could put a crimp in my mood.
Not even when he was looming over me, looking down on me, his eyes tracing over my disheveled form could I be brought off my mellow mood, it just meant I had something else to admire; even if it was hidden behind a tracksuit. Sure, I knew I probably looked like one of the Bay's innumerable homeless, or a Merchant god forbid, what with my ugly sweats, smell and rather wet dog appearance.
He probably even threw people off the boardwalk that looked just like I did every day. But damnit, I was having a good moment and I would not be profiled.
And, when he
requested that I vacate the premise, I just stretched and focused on the delicious tingling from my legs to tone down my response to a somewhat more polite level. The fact that his accent sounded british helped a little bit too.
Glaring up and over my glasses at the Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop, I told him to go away; well, as kindly as a teenager with a authority issues could of course.
"Would you kindly fuck off for a bit Stormtrooper? I'm trying to catch my breath here."
Almost immediately, as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had
probably made a mistake. And I
definitely knew I had messed up when the Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop's eyes narrowed to angry slits and he reached for me. Fortunately though I was quick on the draw, pulling the little pepper spray that Dad had forced me to carry during my morning runs.
The pepper spray, which did absolutely nothing to stop the angry Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop from effortlessly tilting his head away from the stream before pulling me off the bench and throwing me onto my stomach. I felt my hands being cuffed and given a pat down before being lifted off the boardwalks boards and being set down like a sack of potatoes on the bench I had occupied only moments before
Blinking dumbly, I could only wonder what the hell I had been thinking. Mouthing off to the guy that probably weighed something three times as much as I did, and could probably bench press me with ease to boot if how I had been handled was any indication, was stupid.
That train of thought was only compounded upon as the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop wiped his face off with a handy-wipe and put some drops in his eyes before shaking my confiscated can of pepper spray in front of me and using up the rest of it like it was a breath freshener until it sputtered empty.
I just stared in disbelief and it must have been showing it on my face since the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop just smacked his lips like he had had a treat and chuckled.
Chuckled, for Christ's sake in this deep rumble that I could have
sworn I felt in my bones.
"Fraid' you'll be needing something a bit stronger than that in the future Miss." He said, squatting down so we were on the same level; a bemused glint in his eye as he dropped the now empty pepper spray into my lap.
"Now, I apologize if I was a bit rough with you and I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but if I you pardon my inquiring, how did you get in your current condition? Have you been attacked?" He asked kindly. "Would you like me to contact the police?"
I blinked stupidly for a moment, surprised at the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop's almost 180 in attitude. Like a real british gentlemen. It left me gaping like a fish for a moment before I realized I was likely looking like an idiot.
"Uh- um, n-no thank you. I was just out on my run and it was all wet and this jerk threw his coffee and- and-" I stuttered off, stopping myself before I could start rambling, my face flushing abnormally hot all of a sudden.
The Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, examining me intently for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head. He rose to his feet with a small smile. "If you would wait here a moment Miss, I'll get you something that'll make your trip back a bit easier."
I fidgeted on the bench for a moment before nodding and he left, taking long strides down the boardwalk. I watched him go, admiring the way his- I cut that train of thought as I felt my face heat a bit more and instead focused on making myself just a bit more comfortable, shifting my still handcuffed hands to the best position I could. I thought about bolting of course, who wouldn't have, but I decided against it.
Instead I just looked back out at Lord's Bay. Just enjoying the view and the sound of waves.
I was so engrossed in the rhythmic sound the I never noticed the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop sitting down beside me; a long folding knife in one hand and a sheet of thick black plastic in the other. Curious, I watched as he swiftly cut a trio of holes in the plastic before setting the knife aside. Than he stood and picked me up, setting me on my feet and spinning me around before I could make a noise.
I tried to turn around and ask what was going on but a thick hand encircled my wrists,
both of them, and moments later the handcuffs were off my wrists. Turning back around I absently rubbed at my wrists as the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop picked the bag up off the bench and held it out for me to take. Glancing from it to him I raised an eyebrow incredulously but accepted it anyway.
Shifting around the sheet of plastic in my hands I quickly discovered that it was actually a trashbag, likely of the same type used in the trash cans scattered across the boardwalk. Looking up at the Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop inquisitively, I just asked what was on my mind as I stuck a hand through one of the holes that had been cut and out another.
"Ok I give, what's it for?"
The Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop frowned, grimacing as if someone had just asked something particularly stupid. Which, of course, was exactly how I was currently feeling as I fiddled with the cut up trash bag.
The Super-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop just shook his head in exasperation. "It's a slicker Miss. With any luck it'll help you get home without getting any wetter," he smirked, " providing you don't step in any more puddles of course."
I looked back down at the cut up trash bag and realized that the holes did indeed line up with where I would slip my arms and head through. "Huh." I slipped on the improvised garment and plucked at the thick material, noticing that I no longer felt nearly as much of the wind chill that I had from my wet sweatshirt. "Thanks a lot."
The Super-Kind-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop just huffed in good humor, "It was no problem Miss. And here," he held out the knife to me. "Something a bit more threatening than that pepper spray if you will," he shrugged self deprecatingly, "and a bit of an apology for being a bit rough with you earlier. I acted a bit too bruskly."
Feeling my face start to heat up again I just accepted the knife and slipped it into my sweatshirts front pocket, deciding not to bother bringing up my pepper spraying him for all the good it had seemed to have done. "Um- thanks… I guess. But isn't there some sort of law against giving someone a weapon… or something?"
Raising an eyebrow the Super-Kind-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop just proffered his hand, palm out. "Well if you don't want it…," He began, trailing off.
"No no," I told him quickly, "I'll keep it, um I have to get back to my run now, if there was anything else?"
The Super-Kind-Beefcake-Rent-a-Cop just shook his head, "No, you better get going then Miss, just be sure to get warm when you get home. Wouldn't want to be getting a cold."
Just nodding in agreement I turned away, jogged off the boardwalk and settling into an easy pace as I began my route home, my wet shoes squishing embarrassingly loud in my ears as I headed home. All was well until I'd gotten a quarter of the way home, no more splashes, fortunately, however an early morning breeze coming up off the bay picked up and the chilled air sent me into shivers.
Almost immediately I could feel my skin break out in goosebumps, and while the improvised slicker helped to shield my upper body from the biting cold, somewhat, my lower half wasn't so lucky. So after running with the wind at my back for a few minutes I ended up cutting through an abandoned industrial park in the hope that the tall buildings would shield me from the wind. It was only when my shivers had lessened though that I noticed the small clusters of homeless grouped around barrels flickering with fire.
Seeing a few of them turn to look my way as I passed I slipped my hand into my front pocket and grasped the handle of the folding knife. However I put the occasional looks to the back of my mind as I kept jogging toward home. Putting one foot in front of the other while keeping my hand around the folding knife, watching out for puddles of slush and keeping an ear out for my surroundings. What little of it that there was for me to hear over the quashing of my shoes of course.
Unfortunately, my split focus and the loud squishing of my shoes didn't let me hear the quick footsteps and splash of puddles behind me until it was too late and they were right behind me. It was the barest of warnings that when I felt an arm wrap tightly around my throat I wasn't able to pull the knife as I felt the sharp sting in the back of my neck.
My legs buckled, folding beneath me immediately and the arm around my throat was the only thing holding me up as my strength evaporated and my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.
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