Chapter 2: 2
"Becca! Have you picked out a damn dress yet? I'm not even this picky!"
She listened to Brax from her room. She had been there for half an hour, standing in the mirror with two dresses on hangers. One was white, off the shoulder and form fitting, and the other was silver with a fuller, fluffier skirt. She loved them both, but the outfit also decided her hair, makeup, shoes, accessories…
She couldn't make up her mind, so she threw them both on the bed and picked up an empty hanger. Taking a few steps back, she closed her eyes and tossed the hanger in the direction of the dresses. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the hanger had landed mostly on the white dress. So, the decision was made.
Braxton burst into her room. He saw the hanger sitting on the white dress and rolled his eyes.
"Why didn't you just ask me? You trust a hanger more than me?!"
She shook her head. "I couldn't pick. So I used it to help me decide."
He frowned. "So you trust a hanger more than me."
She pointed to the door. He rolled his eyes again and walked out, closing the door a little harder than normal. Of course she didn't trust a hanger more than him, but the hanger didn't slam the door about it. Now she slipped out of her day clothes and put the dress on. Looking in the mirror would make her overthink and change her mind, so she didn't. Instead she walked out to the living room where Brax was pouting. His sad face went away the moment he saw her, and he stood up and bowed.
"My lovely lady, you look ever so beautiful on this night." He held out his hand dramatically. She Put her nose in the air and walked to him, placing her hand lightly in his. He kissed it, and then stood up to spin her around. By the time she was done turning, they were both giggling and holding their stomachs at the charade.
"I would have picked this one anyways." He said, when they had calmed down. "It's a good thing you haven't done your makeup yet, because the smudges would be unbearable."
Becca was indeed crying from laughing so hard, and that would have made a crude mess out of her mascara and eyeliner. She felt relieved, because this was the first time, she had laughed this hard in months, and it seemed like an eternity. Braxton had that effect on her, the ability to make her happy, sad, or angry at his whim. He never used this power for evil… on purpose.
Back in her room she finally took a look at herself in the mirror. White was a complementary color on her; it made her red hair seemingly glow and her eyes shine. This dress hugged her curves, accenting all of her finer points, the points Braxton called "ass-ets." She wasn't particularly fond of showing off her body, especially after the situation it had landed her in last time. Ryan loved it when she wore tight-fitting clothes, anywhere, any time of day. Sometimes, he would pick out what she would wear, and the results were often scandalous. This thought in her mind, she put her hand to her shoulder to slide the dress off. The girl in the mirror looked afraid and alone, tears coming to her eyes as she felt those self-conscious emotions creep over her like cold water, flowing in her blood. The dress was down one arm now, sinking in defeat.
"Becs?"
The voice came from the door way behind her. Her eyes snapped to the mirror, where Braxton was standing in the reflection, concern lining his features. He had changed into his usual black slacks and waistcoat over a white button up, and now his hair was combed neatly upward.
"What's up? Do you not like the dress?" He rushed to her side and put an arm over her shoulders. He gave her a little squeeze. "C'mon, the hanger and I, we can't both be wrong."
His attempt to make her smile extracted a weak twitch of her lips. He wasn't satisfied, and he grabbed both of her hands in his and circled around in front of her, lowering himself down to his knees so that even though she was staring at the floor, he could look into her eyes. A tear fell from her cheek and sailed to the carpet, making an almost audible plop as it landed.
"No, no, no! No crying! We are going to have fun tonight. We're going to Lavie, remember? What do the bartenders do with the criers at Lavie?"
She looked him dead in the eyes, hers still full of tears.
"They take their drinks away and send them home." He said. "Do you want to be sent home, Rebecca Genesis?"
She shook her head, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She didn't want to get kicked out of her favorite club, especially when tonight was supposed to be her 'homecoming.'
"Well?" Braxton's hope-filled eyes gazed up at her.
She took in a deep breath and nodded. Braxton gave her a huge smile, heartwarming and reassuring. He stood, pulling the sleeve of her dress up as he did. Now that she was fully dressed again, he decided it was time to do her makeup, a task he had been chattering about all day. He opened every drawer on her vanity table, pulling brushes, powders, sponges and creams out of every possible place. He set about filling her desktop with neatly arranged tools and materials. Only when he was ready did he turn to her, taking her face in his hands and studying her, like he had many times. She always giggled as he turned her face to the left and right, then tilted her chin up and down. Then he began the long and extraneous process of applying all of her makeup, detailing every feature the way an artist picks at every detail of their masterpieces. Braxton had four years of beauty school and a degree in cosmetology, so he was pretty qualified to do her makeup whenever he pleased. Tonight, he used subtle colors on her eyes and cheeks, voluminous false lashes, and a dark red matte lip paint to tie together her elegant look. Becca was oblivious to all of this, because he never let her look at herself until he was completely done.
Now, he spun her around and revealed her in the mirror. She gasped in shock as she took in the spectacular job he had done, again. His makeup looks never bored her, because none of them ever looked them same.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" she threw her arms around his neck in a hug.
"Nooooo! Don't smudge your makeup!" he gently pushed her off.
She smiled slyly up at him. "Is it my turn now?"
A look of slight terror crossed his face. She picked up a brush, coated in pink blush powder, and waved it threateningly in his direction. Without waiting for her to make another move, he jumped to the door and into the hallway. Becca knew she would never catch him now that he was gone, so she put down the brush and went to her closet to find some shoes. She selected a pair of shiny white stilettos and threw them on. She heard Braxton's car rev up out front, the signature clink clink click reaching her room. She took one more steadying breath. Of course she had second thoughts about tonight, it was the first night out she was going on since coming back. But she had Braxton by her side, which meant absolutely nothing could happen to her that her couldn't take care of.
000
The drive to Lavie was probably Rebecca's favorite part of her and Braxton's nights out. They had to drive a rough 27 minutes down a road of pure green. There were tall, leafy trees with leaves that hung down from the branches in great vines. The grass was wild and uncut, flowers scattered in natural bouquets here and there, and every so often an animal, whether it was a deer, rabbit, or a hedgehog, sometimes even a turtle, would cross their path. Of course this made Braxton extra cautious, never exceeding a speed of 30 miles an hour even though the speed limit was 60. So, Rebecca was able to enjoy the naturally beautiful drive and relax. Braxton was driving especially slow just then, and he reached over and grabbed her hand.
"You know, you could send that guy to jail." He said, so softly Rebecca thought she may have imagined it.
"I couldn't."
"Why not? What he did was illegal. You could pin him for domestic violence, abuse, wrongful imprisonment, first degree murder…" He laughed a little when her hand tensed. "No, no. Not that. That'll be me if he ever shows his face around you again."
She looked over to see his eyes had gone dark, and his lips were tight. She placed her other hand on top of their already intertwined two.
"Listen," she smiled at him. "It's over. I can live life again, like it never happened."
"This happened." He flipped her arm to expose the faint yellow circles.
Her heart sank, and she drew both of her hands to her lap, her shoulders hung. She knew he was right; she could send Ryan to jail for what he did. It wasn't going to go away.
"Let's just enjoy tonight. We can talk about it later, okay? It just has to be a conversation at some point." He put both hands back on the wheel.
A couple minutes later, Braxton let out a tiny gasp. He began rummaging around in his center console, trying his best to keep an eye on the road.
"I…. almost forgot…"
He finally pulled out a CD case, faded and cracked. Now it was Rebecca's turn to gasp, because the moment she saw what was in his hand, she knew exactly what it was. She didn't even have to read the rubbed-off sharpie on the disc, she just knew to open the CD player. He slid the disk inside, and pressed play.
"We built this city. We built this city on rock and roll…"
Immediately it was like every weight on their shoulders was lifted. They sang along to the lyrics, banging their heads and air-guitaring when appropriate. This song was one of Becca's personal favorites, but that wasn't the only thing that made it special.
000
"Hey, why don't we go dance?" Braxton set down his seventh shot glass, his movements slightly staggered, smile slightly lopsided.
Becca looked out at the dance floor where the few who remained in the club were swaying. The songs were slow now, mostly to guide the over-drunken party-goers to the door. Total Eclipse of the Heart was the current choice, and it was then that Bonnie Tyler was on a decrescendo into pure piano.
"This isn't really my speed." She said, staring listlessly at the row of twenty or so shot glasses, empty on the counter. She had really over done it.
Braxton looked back at the sluggish people. Without warning, he got up and walked over to where the DJ was packing up his CDs. Becca watched him say a few words to the confused-looking DJ. Finally, he shrugged and pulled out a CD and pushed into the table.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen, now for something entirely different."
Braxton came back, a huge smile on his face. He held out a hand to her.
"What did you do?" She asked, taking his hand and standing up, shaking in her heels.
"You'll see."
They entered the dance floor among the other dancers who were looking around expectantly.
"We built this city. We built this city on rock and roll…"
Braxton watched as Becca's eyes lit up, and something within him moved. Then they were dancing and singing along, having the time of their lives. They weren't going to remember much of tonight in the morning, but they both new they wouldn't be able to forget this song, this dance. They were still dancing when it ended, singing like the chorus was going to go on forever. Braxton went up and asked the DJ for the CD, which he reluctantly handed over. Then, he took a sharpie from the bar, and in handwriting much too perfect to comprehend, he wrote on the case.
Our Song.
000
Where the forested road ended, the city immediately began. There wasn't a pause that gradually built deserted into urban, it was instead more like the city was surrounded by the forest. Already Becca could sense Lavie, the sounds of the party sounding down the lane. Lavie was directly in the center of Teransom's most populous place, so if you stood at any point around it, no matter how far, you could hear the laughing, singing, talking people. It was getting darker now, so the rainbow-colored lights that shone from the rooftops in the evening were lighting up Main Street, and people left the safety of the brick building to join the Saturday night festivities. Teransom was truly a party city, and nearly everyone would be out tonight.
Finally, they made it down the crowded street and into the parking lot of Lavie. This was a towering brick building that may have once been an apartment building, if you were looking at the many windows with balconies on every level. Vines grew up the sides of the brick, curling around the loopy golden cursive that spelled out Lavie. Every window was lit tonight, per the usual Saturday rituals, and the sound of music rose into the night, filling the air with a vibration, a sensation of movement and rhythm.
"Well." Braxton turned to look at her, eyes shining. "This is it."
Becca looked out the window at the place she knew so well, the one that housed so many of her fondest memories, and also some of her darkest moments. And she smiled.
"Yeah. Are we just going to look at it or can we go inside?" she smirked over at him and jumped out of the car.
He was moments behind her, and he put his arm through hers as they walked towards the doors. They approached, and Becca breathed a sigh of relief as she saw who the bouncer was.
"Eddie!"
The man at the door turned from what he was doing and looked directly at her. He was a tall, hulking, dark man in a black suit and shaded sunglasses. Although his stare seemed blank and lifeless, when he saw Rebecca approaching him, he smiled so widely it may have blinded her.
"Well, if I'm not mistaken, I know you, little miss." He reached out to take her hand in his. "And if I'm not mistaken about that, then I know for certain that I haven't seen you in a very, very long time." His gaze grew stern. "Have you been staying out of trouble, mademoiselle?"
Becca's smile slipped, but only for a second. Still, it was enough to make Eddie glance at Brax, who barely shook his head. It took moments, but the exchange happened, and then everything was back to normal.
"Have a good evening, both of you. I'll be out here if you need me." He went back to checking IDs.
That was all it took for Brax to place his hand on Becca's lower back and nudge her into the club. He seemed slightly urgent, as if bringing her closer to the music would cure whatever feeling she was having, or help her to forget the awkwardness at the door. He didn't know that Becca had already forgotten it and had moved on to a new worry. There certainly were a lot of people in Lavie tonight, and while she was used to this, she stuck very close to Braxton's side. The first-floor lobby was pretty crowded, but this floor was filled with dumb, teenage-level kids who wanted to party and feel like adults. The bartenders here served mocktails and virgin drinks, then laughed as the girls pretended to be drunk and fall into unsuspecting boys' arms. There wasn't much to see down here on the first level, and they headed for the gold-gilded elevator straight ahead. In Lavie, each time you went up a floor, of which there were seven, the quality got better. Each level required a certain access card to get in, which filtered who came and went. The top floor was extremely difficult to gain access to, but Braxton punched the number seven button, and up they went. At the top, the doors opened, and the currently noisy room fell silent. Every pair of eyes seemed to have turned to look at them, or rather, to look at Becca.
"What are they staring at?" she whispered, clutching Braxton's arm.
The familiar seventh floor surrounded her, strobe lights flashing, balloons floating. The floors up here were painted in a sparkly silver paint, so that it looked like if you stepped onto it, you would sink into silver glue. The walls were painted with different colored polygons, all in pastel shades that changed colors as the spinning blacklight went around and around. The only thing out of place was that no one moved, the dancing crowd now turned and stared.
"I think maybe they're looking at you."
"Right, but why?"
A shrug was the only answer she received. Some of the people had begun to whisper, a sound that could be heard over the music.
"Madame?" a voice from behind her spoke.
She turned and saw a slim woman in a checking uniform, a sort of grey business suit with a golden badge pinned to the front. She must have been new, because Becca didn't recognize her fluffy blonde hair or her voice.
"Your card please? You too sir, no one gets through here without a card."
Braxton reached into his pocket for his wallet and handed Becca her card. The checker looked at the cards, then back at them, and then, to Becca's surprise, she pulled out a microphone and turned to the crowd.
"Ladies and ladies, may I present to you, Ms. Rebecca G Born and one Mr. Braxton A Matthews, the life of the party!"
Rebecca cringed and turned to face the crowd, but her mouth fell slightly open. The people had started cheering. Everyone in the room, most of whom she knew, was jumping up and down, some screaming, yelling her name, and others raising their glasses.
"Well," the checker said in awe, "You two sure get a reaction from the crowd here, don't you? I'm Anne, by the way. I'll be at the check desk if you need me."
The checker walked away, and then the pair were surrounded by their friends, all clamoring at once.
"Becca, baby! Where you been gorgeous?" One drawled in an east-coast accent.
"Rebecca Born, you have got to be out of your mind not showing up here for so long!"
"Braxy, where did you find her, we've been so worried."
"Welcome back y'all!"
She shook hands and kissed cheeks until she must have come into contact with everyone in the room. Even the people who were just arriving seemed drawn to her.
"I feel famous." She told Brax at one point.
"You are famous. The girl who came back, starring in a one-night performance." He grinned and shoved her playfully. "Stealing my usual spotlight."
It was true. Usually when the two of them went into Lavie, Braxton was the one who gathered adoring fans around him and gained the center of attention. It didn't say "life of the party" on his check card for nothing. He had won that name years ago.
"Well, now I know why all the stars are addicts." She said. "I need a few drinks already! I think I'll be at the bar for a minute, okay?"
Braxton looked over at her, something unplaceable in his eyes. "You going to be okay over there?"
"Of course I am!" She said, a little too fast for her mind to catch up with what her mouth was saying, and what he was asking.
"Well if you say so. I'll be over here if you need me, alright? I think Dylan is over there with those boys and I… uh, well I might go talk to him."
Dylan was a crush of Braxs'. He was as tall as him, with dark black hair and darker blue eyes. Becca had met him a few times, and he seemed nice. He was really into plants and conservation. Becca thought the two would make a good pair. She looked where Brax had pointed and saw he was indeed standing there. She couldn't say anything to Brax now, so she nodded and smiled instead.
"I'll be at the bar then."
She walked over to the bar, which was a rounded countertop surrounding a huge silver clam shell and pearl. Every year one lucky lady got to sit on this huge shell-shaped chair and pop champagne on New Year's Day. She would also get to pour drinks and give a speech, something Becca had had in mind for a long time. She always imagined herself, sitting in that shell wearing the huge crown that was made every year, elegantly holding the bottle and speaking words of love and merriment to the drunken onlookers. But the Lady of the Clam, as she was called, usually got the drunkest and ended up being carted home by her lover or some stranger. Still, she loved the idea and she loved the shape of the bar.
The bartender approached her, another new employee that she didn't know. She read from the nametag on his white button-down shirt that his name was Rick. He had a chiseled face, something of a sharp jawline, and beautiful green eyes. He was talking to another customer when she approached, but when he saw her, he stopped and walked in her direction.
"Good evening, beautiful." He said, winking at her. The gesture made her cheeks get hot, but she kept her composure.
"What kind of something can I mix up for you tonight? We have everything you could ever ask for, rum, scotch, tequila, vodka, wine…"
"I know, I'm kind of a regular here." She said, scanning the margarita menu. She was about to order her drink when she noticed Rick studying her.
"Say, aren't you that Rebecca girl? The one everyone's been talking about?"
Her eyes shot to his in alarm. "People are talking about me?"
"Sure, just about anyone who's ordered a drink tonight. They're saying things about how you ran off with some millionaire for a few months cuz he got you knocked up, and you've been recovering from an abortion. Other people say you've been hiding out for a while because of some scandal with, said millionaire, and you had to keep a low profile."
Her cheeks were very hot now, she could feel her face turning redder with every word he spoke. Neither of those stories were true, not even close. If that was what everyone thought about her, then all of their welcomes and warm smiles were fake, as fake as the enormous pearl inside the clam.
"I'll take a few shots of whiskey." She said, nearly choking on the words.
Ricks one eyebrow raised. "I wouldn't have pinned you for a whiskey girl. Alas, the customer is always correct, aren't they? Three shots, coming your way."
He busied himself with pouring her select whiskey shots. She looked over to where Brax was, chatting away with Dylan. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and elbowing each other and others around them. She smiled when she caught his eye, and he gave her a small wave. Dylan saw and followed the wave to meet her eyes as well. She smiled at him, and he waved at her as well.
"Whiskey for the lady."
Her shots slid across the bar to where she sat, followed shortly after by Rick himself. She ignored him and picked up the first shot. She hadn't drunk anything this strong in a while, so she paused a moment before she raised the glass. Rick looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her, challenging her, to take on the whiskey. She looked him in the eye, mentally accepted his challenge, and downed the shots, one right after the other, turning them upside down when they were empty. As usual with the men she met, Rick looked surprised.
"Well well well. Pretty girls like you shouldn't be able to stomach this whiskey. At least, not without running into trouble." He grinned at her handsomely. "Don't worry though doll, I've got an eye on you. Nothing's going to happen."
She was getting annoyed with this guy, pretending he was tough. She could very well take care of herself, and she wanted him to know that.
"I'll be alright." She said bluntly. "I'm not the kind of girl you should be looking out for." She scanned the room for a subject. She pointed to a blonde who was obviously barely standing in her heels, leaning against some man she probably didn't know and swaying dangerously. "Her, on the other hand, might need help later tonight. Make her next few 'tequilas' into waters and put them on my tab."
Rick looked amazed, and he might have said something, but someone walked up next to them as soon as he opened his mouth.
"I need two glasses of Malibu and strawberry juice, tall." The new man said.
Rebecca looked up, slightly surprised. "That's my best friend Braxton's favorite drink."
"I know." He said turning to reveal that he was Dylan, Braxton's friend.
"Oh!" She gasped and then quickly laughed. "I didn't recognize you at first. I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm- "
"Rebecca." He finished for her. "Yeah I remember you. In fact, you should come stand over there with us. You shouldn't feel left out." His smile was genuine. He cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered, "New guy here getting on your nerves?"
She glanced at Rick and then nodded, making Dylan smile even more. Once Rick came back with the two drinks he had ordered, he held his arm out for her to take. She slipped off the barstool and took it, and they walked over to where Brax was standing. On the way over, Becca whispered to Dylan.
"Brax really likes you." She said. "He thinks you're great."
"Really?" Dylan's eyebrows shot up. "Huh. I never thought that he…"
"Was gay? Yeah, he gets that a lot."
He didn't seem at all bothered by what she had said to him, and she took that as a good sign.
"Becca! Looks like you found company." Brax said sing-song like as they approached.
"Company here just rescued me from the new bartender." She rolled her eyes. "Rick."
Braxton laughed and pretended to cringe. "Oh, even his name sounds just awful!"
Soon they were all laughing and making pleasant conversation. The boys let Becca sip out of their drinks until the pink liquid was drained. They talked about music for a while, and then, per usual, Braxton and Dylan got into talking about plants and animals. Becca watched and listened, amused at their banter. She loved watching Brax socialize, especially when he was flirting. He was funny and charming, nut not overwhelming. Of course, he had years of practice at charming young men, and he had gotten quite good at it.
"We need more drinks." Brax announced, mid-conversation. "More Malibu for me and Dylan and Becca…" He paused and squinted at her. "You look like you're in a screwdriver type of mood."
Becca nodded, because a screwdriver really did sound amazing at that moment. Braxton always told her that it tasted like nail polish remover and orange juice, but she really didn't mind the strong vodka taste. Braxton headed towards the bar to get everyone's drinks, and within seconds had entirely disappeared into the crowd. Now Becca and Dylan stood, slightly awkwardly, against the wall.
"He really seems to get you." Dylan said, at length.
"Yeah, he does."
"Wish I had someone like that."
She looked up at him, searching his face for a hint of sadness or loneliness to match his words. Instead she found a dry, uninterested expression on his face, mixed with something else.
"Like I said, Braxton really likes you." She said carefully.
Now he looked down at her, his eyes glowing in the neon, and she recognized what that thing was, the ugly thing written all over his face. It was a preying hunger, something that she had seen before. She took a step back, unsure of what to do. She silently begged Brax to come back, willing him to hear her with her mind.
"Why don't we go get some air?" Dylan said, a little too casually.
Becca was extremely confused. His demeanor, his voice, nothing about him matched the look he had in his eyes. In fact, if it hadn't been for those eyes, she might still be feeling secure here. Everything else about him was so calm; the way he was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, and the tilt of his head when he spoke. The laugh in his voice hadn't faded, but she knew there was something there that shouldn't be.
"We need to wait till Brax gets back, he'll miss us." She replied coolly.
"No, really. Mr. Life of the Party will be alright without us for a few minutes. Let's go outside." He reached out to take her hand, and when she didn't comply, he took a step closer. "Becca, come on."
She was trying her hardest to move away, but the sea of people blocked her. Now his hand was on her wrist, in the same place her faded bruises were. He turned and began to walk towards an open balcony, pulling her along with him.
"Dylan, I-"
"Rebecca, we are going outside. I need some air."
Just like before, she couldn't struggle. No matter what she did, nothing would help break her away from his grasp. Soon they were out on the balcony, and he had opened the gate to the stairs that lead down into the alleyway below. The air outside was crisp now that evening had truly fallen, and Rebecca shivered as she tried not to fall down the stairs in her stilettos. Dylan was rushing, nearly taking the stairs two at a time. He hit the concrete at the base with a thud when he jumped, and continued taking her along with him. She stayed on the last step, pulling her arm, trying to use the higher ground as leverage. It was no use.
"Come on now. We came this far already." Dylan said in a mocking voice. "Surely you're not tired yet. We still have so much left to do."
She hated the way he said those words, those cruel, evil words that tore at her very soul. Tears jumped to her eyes, flooding down her face in an awful torrent. She opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound Dylan was behind her, one arm around her waist and the other covering her mouth. He was surprisingly fast, and his reaction nearly knocked the wind out of her.
"You… aren't… going… to say a word…" He was panting with the effort it took to hold her as she struggled against him. He had her in a position she couldn't escape, but she was desperately writhing, kicking, and struggling,
Her mind went to Brax. If only he knew what his 'crush' was out doing. Then again, it was better for him not to know. It would break his heart if he found out. Then her mind jumped to Ryan, and how he had once covered her mouth and used his brute strength against her. Why was it happening again? Had she done something to deserve it? Surely if she hadn't it wouldn't have happened twice.
She wondered what men did with women like her when they were… done with them. She had read every book and watched every documentary on Ted Bundy, and she knew what happened to all of his victims. Just thinking of this made the sob in her throat burst free, and with that one moment of weakness, she was knocked off of the steps and began to be dragged down the alleyway.
Suddenly, it was like she was falling through the air. The ground disappeared from under her, and the hands holding her were gone. She could have been floating, she could have been flying. All she knew was that one moment she was a captive, and the next she had never felt so strangely free. She stayed there in the air for a moment that felt like hours, and then reality slammed her to the ground. She was on her knees, arms curled around herself, crying. All that euphoria she had felt was gone. She wiped her eyes, noting the black streaks on the back of her hand. Now that she could see, she looked and saw Dylan. Except he was on the ground, lying limp. He didn't seem to be breathing.
"Dylan?" She choked. Staying low to the ground, she crept towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Dylan?"
His back was to her, and he was entirely still. She choked again and rolled him towards her, and then let out a cry of horror. There was a gash in his head, and blood seeped from it and down his face. He was cold and uncharacteristically pale, nearly a ghost.
"No, no, no…" She pressed the sleeve of her dress to his forehead. "Dylan? Can you hear me? You're going to be okay…" She cradled his head in her lap, blood spilling onto the white of her dress.
"What a pure soul."
A voice seemed to come from the air around her. It was a male voice, a young sounding voice, that seemed to sing when it spoke and laugh when the sentence was finished. Now, it was as if it was mocking her.
"Who said that?" She whispered, too quiet for anyone to hear.
It came again, because it had heard her, despite her tiny voice.
"What kind of person has sympathy for someone who would try to hurt them? Personally, I would have finished him off. In fact, I still might…"
As he finished the last sentence, the sound of his voice found a center. It now was coming from an actual direction, the direction directly in front of her. The shadowy alleyway ahead of her was pitch black, and from this blackness came an even blacker silhouette.
"Good evening Rebecca. Don't look so alarmed, you aren't in any danger anymore. My name is Carter. Carter Everette Jones."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone