The beginning of the end?

gonna stand t

[/i]here[/size][/font]
- - - - - - - a n d w a t c h m e b u r n b u t - - - - - - -
[/center]

- - - - - - - t h a t s a l r i g h t b e c a u s e - - - - - - -
i

[/i] l[/i]i k e t[/i]he w[/i] a y i[/i] t hu r t s [/size][/font]
[/center]

Dark streets ran mazes from above. Birds had an aerial view of the land, able to look down at the world from a lofty perch. They were observers and travelers, always coming and going without a single need for the needs of humanity. They did not have the same social or familial structures that humans needed to adhere to. There was no cause for any of what they did besides running around and eating, there were no underlying disorders or hidden agendas to be had. There was nothing that drove them to do what they could be or to change their minds, they were driven by base instinct.

And that alone was what drove the girl out into the streets, in the middle of a driving thunderstorm. It was base instinct to survive, to die on her own, like a wounded animal, she ran out somewhere seeking shelter, her own hole to hide in. The rain would wash away any evidence of blood as it pounded down on the earth, cleansing the stains left behind. It was night time, no sane person would be out by choice, yet she kept running, ignoring the driving rain, feeling like she was being slapped in the face repeatedly. It was such a dark night in the winter and she was underdressed, wearing only black pants and a too large hoodie. Her body underneath of the clothing was bruised and battered and malnourished as she ran blindly, knowing the back streets by heart.

She turned and dodged, freezing when the thunder roared around the alleyway, echoing and the lightening flashing quickly and highlighting stark contrasts. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands down over her ears as she waited for the echoes to subside and finally she ran on, keeping down low and ignoring the pain that radiated up her leg and across her chest with every step. It was primitive instinct that drove her to run and hide, to get away and just find somewhere to hide and lick her wounds, to stay away. She spat out blood on the sidewalk, feeling the metallic taste in her mouth and knowing that she had a split lip. Blood ran down the side of her face, washed away with the rain, hiding the evidence of what happened.

She was a soaked mess. Long blonde hair was plastered to her face, down her sides, sticking to her head. She looked like a matted and wet cat, blood turning her blonde hair pink. Her mother had been on one of her rants and binges, throwing things and hitting in a drunken rage. There was nothing good about any of it and Blake knew but she could never fight back. She didn’t have it in her to lift a hand to hurt anyone or anything. It was her problem that she dealt with, her secret and she gasped for breath like a drowning swimmer. She knew that she had bruises on her stomach and sides, down her back. Her ankle was swollen and throbbing and yet she kept running, kept going until she could no longer, collapsing in some back alley behind a dumpster.

She’d made her way into the heart of the city, her body finally giving out on her in the pouring rain and she couldn’t move any farther, her weight wasn’t supported. She collapsed against the dumpster first, a loud bang behind the apartment building that was masked by the thunder and the lightening. She had nothing on her, no ID or any reasons that she would be readily identified by. Blake whimpered some as she hunkered down behind the dumpster, clutching her hoodie tightly around her and knowing that she couldn’t go home and had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t that late at night, but late enough that most everyone else was back inside and only a need drove people out into the rain storm or it was a job. Chances were that no one would have ever noticed the girl or if they had, she was just a heartbroken teen running away from her boyfriend in a dramatic scene. Blake whimpered again, drawing her knees up to her chest and pulling her hood over her sodden hair. She could do nothing but sit there, trying to keep warm and breathe, regaining her senses. She wanted to cry but refused to let it out, knowing that she couldn’t afford to at the moment. The only thing that she could do was huddle there, scared and shaking like a rabbit.

She knew she had to get moving again, but she couldn’t right now. She’d twisted her ankle leaving the house, falling down the steps as she ran around trying to get out without any more injuries. She’d simply gone after Margaret had tired out and retired to her bedroom, leaving Blake to clean up the mess from the house and the rage. Blake had cleaned up dutifully and then left, running blindly in the storm. She couldn’t even tell where she was, but she knew that for now she was safe from the large majority of people. After all, who would be in a storm that was driving rain and thundering like the apocalypse?

[/size]





NOTES:
OUTFIT:
WORDS:
MUSE:
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0

There stood there with her, in that very same place of darkness underneath the cold wet rain that fell from the heavens, one who carried the embodiment and the essence of a reality not quite as it should be. Indeed, this stranger stood staring at the fallen girl as though confused. A cautious gaze and a more so cautious gait toward her seemed to spell all but a less-then-hostile demeanor from this one of whom inched ever so closer to her.

Upon his face was nothing; nothing as it seemingly should be.

A ghastly white mask hid the true face of the one hidden behind. It's eyes seemed to have been made wider with deep dark paint and it's mouth was tinted black. The haunting visage crept closer; neither the cold of the wind coupled with the falling rains, nor the rains themselves, served as disturbance to this one

Closer he crept.

Closer and closer still as though a series of menacing thoughts coursed throughout his mind. Thoughts of pain, thoughts of anguish, thoughts of blood, thoughts of murder, though to a fearful mind, this was all and true. Nevertheless, such intentions remained hidden, hidden until that moment of realization when he would at long last come upon her to wreak what fate he had weaved for her.

Only such was not the case.

He knelt before her as though in sympathy.

Perhaps now her eyes would see; see the flow of blood trickling down from atop his head, down his neck, having already soaked upon his shirt and it seemed a lesser concern to him. A finger was drawn and traced along the ground.

A circle overlaid with an X.

But after so, his head snapped toward the entryway of these alleys. In so doing, he ran with haste, as though the greatest of fears had come upon him, into the depths of the darkness to perhaps be seen no more by this girl or any who would catch the haunting visage's sight once more.