Aiden points a goddamned gun at me and without hesitation presses the trigger.For a moment the entire world freeze around me. I see it as clearly as I could see a bird flying or a fish swimming, like I’m in the slow-motion section of an action movie. The bullet is aimed at me, and I could see it coming towards me, tearing through the air It should be faster than this, I realize. I should not be seeing it coming towards me, it should already be embedded in my head, taking my life with it. I should be down on the road with another vehicle running over me because I’m too dead to move. So why am I still alive? Why do I see it coming towards me? It’s impossible for a human being to see a bullet with his naked eyes!The bullet comes closer and closer, and I get over my shock at seeing it. It breaks through the glass of the vehicle window, and the glass shatters. Pieces of crystal flew all around my head and I had to pull myself back not to let them get into my eyes. Eventually, the bullet
The pain is tremendous.It’s like fire ripping through a decaying building made entirely of wood, eating through the timber at a speed that one would not have thought possible. It’s like being thrust into the sun, the heat eating away at every cell of my body. It’s like being mauled by a thousand small mice all at once, inside and out. My head hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts, my libs hurt. I feel like I’m paralyzed, and my brain is shut down except for one thought.It hurts.If the hurt had not been as tremendous, I would feel the rawness in my throat from straining the vocal cords screaming. That’s the only thing I can do now that I do not have control of my body anymore, scream. My vision is entirely white, and I don’t hear anything else. Mal’s voice, Lemon's voice, Gerald’s voice, and even the noise of the van disappears, and the only sound in my ears is my own scream.And the pain stretches on. Sometimes, you get used to pain when it goes on and on, but not this one. It fe
“Who the heck is Estelle?” Mal asks, voice incredulous, “Why on earth is he asking for her? Has he dosed with something?! Are you doing drugs now, Jace?”The only answer he gets from me is a groan because I'm far too gone into the red-hot heat of my mind to form a coherent answer. “Estelle is…” Gerald starts and then tries to find the right words. “A woman he met last night and well, and danced with? And spent the night with. They met at a nightclub."“Oh.” Both Mal and Lemon immediately understand, especially considering the way Gerald stutters through his words and finds the most non-suggestive ones. It’s strange how part of me is still attentive to what they are talking about, albeit a tiny part. The majority is my consciousness is trying to deal with the pain and the longing for Estelle.“But why her?” Mal inquires. “Why do you need the woman you hooked up with for the night, Jace? What did she do to you? Did she put something in your drink and now you're in love with her or some
“Oh, Lord, someone stop him!” Mal squeaks as I start to pummel at the glass over and over again, “he’s going to get himself killed.”“No, I’m not,” I reply, feeling much stronger than I had ever been. Cracks are rapidly appearing on the glass and with one more punch I would be able to break through, “but if I don’t get to her, I just might.”But before I can get the last punch needed to smash the window in, Gerald, the traitor, swerves the vehicle to the left, making me lose my balance and fall on the van floor with a thud. When I scramble upwards to a sitting position, Gerald is rapidly moving to the left, as if he was going to stop the vehicle.I accidentally glance at where I fell on the van floor and realize with dawning surprise that I had somehow put a dent there. I don’t think I had ever done this before. In fact, I don’t think anyone had ever made a dent on a hard van floor by falling on it.The van comes to a stop amidst all our screams. Mal is asking Gerald to take us to a H
When I was younger, there was a period of time in my life when I was plagued by nightmares.This was around the time my mother moved us, her and myself, away from Clandestine City to Empire City to get away from my father, the tabloid that was like vultures, wanting to get a bit out of Joesph Greyson’s mistress and illegitimate son. My mother had already been in custody hearings with him, trying her damndest to keep me while going head-to-head with a literal millionaire at the time. At the time I didn’t understand the severity of this, I did not understand how much money can manipulate our legal system, all the way from the police to the very top of the courts. It was only much later did I realize that my father had not used his money and fame to bribe anyone, but rather had given my mother the opportunity to have a fair trial.But back then I knew none of that. All my little brain could comprehend was the fact that mom and dad were madder with each other than before and mom often lef
There's something wet on my face. That is the first thing that registers in my mind when I start to gain consciousness from the sea of darkness that my being had been submerged in. The wetness is cold, cold enough to shock me into the real world from wherever it was I had been before, where darkness was a constant. The second thing I register is pain. It's the kind of pain that you would expect to overtake your body after extensive surgery done by some amateur medical professional after a rather terrifying car accident. I feel like I'm cut up and being sewn off raw, with needles pricking onto my skin from everywhere all at once. The wetness starts to increase, and soon enough through the pain, I realize that this had got to be water. What kind of water, I'm not sure. But judging by the force of the icy drops colliding with my skin, I feel like it's rain. Why am I being drenched by rain? Why do I feel so hurt? What's going on? I do not know, but I have been through enough harrowin
I try to see if there are any materials lying around in what seems to be the backyard of the house, but there are only flowering plants and herbs, neatly grown in flowerbeds and growing heartily, all over the yard. It’s not fenced or gated, and while to me that looks like a bad move security-wise, I guess the residents of this quaint little house do not think so.It’s actually a cottage, by the looks of it, and extremely old-fashioned at that. Blue in color, freshly painted, with white windows and doors, as well as a black tiled roof that had an opening for a chimney.Smoke is coming out of the chimney, and the glow of evening lights emanates from behind the white curtains that had been put behind the windows. It looks homely, and surely someone living in a home like this would not turn away someone needing help, would they?I desperately wish I had something to cover myself, but sadly there is not, so I try to use my hand. Never have I felt this humiliated by a circumstance, and I h
“Follow me,” I’m being instructed as soon as I enter the quaint little house through the doors. I take a brief look around, my newly deepened senses getting acquainted with the new surroundings I’ve found myself in, and there's nothing to complain about. The lavender and cream scent that emanated from Estelle permeated every available surface of the house and then some, along with the intermingling scents of the cut flowers artistically arranged in various cute vases on almost every available flat surface, one vase each, and the smell of firewood burning in the fireplace. The wallpapers are mauve themes, the skirtings are white, and the floor is made of polished hardwood, and the house lighting is ambient. There is a window seat near the large window I failed to see from the outside, and the wall next to the window is covered with a bookrack. I squint at the old-looking books, trying to see if there are any names on the spines. Some have names, but a lot of them are nameless.Interest