I find it kind of sad [The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had ]
[Slay]
She runs, her heart sledge hammering against her chest. She knows without looking over her shoulder that he is still behind her. It is a feeling deep beneath her skin, wriggling in her brain. Her breath is a dagger in her lungs, plunging up into her throat with every single gasp.
She stumbles the way the blonde in the horror movies always does. She pushes herself up from the asphalt and finds her body will no longer cooperate. She’s going to die.
At this point of realization her body makes one last stand, shooting adrenaline through her blood, pushing her further than she thought she’d be able to go, making her feet lighter than they’ve ever been.
And somehow she’s knows it will not be enough.
He’s gaining ground, toying with her because he could have caught her when she stumbled but he wants her to feel that hope. He wants that adrenaline to spike through her blood and he pauses to scent her blood on the pavement then pushes off the balls of his feet; a burst of speed bringing him within three feet of her. She jumps for a fence, grabbing it to scramble over when his hand wraps around her ankle.
Everything inside of her body screams, her mind revolts and her heart skips, stuttering along. He tugs at her leg and she freezes. She closes her eyes and tries to will her body to move. If she can kick hard enough, snap his neck back and push him away, she might have a chance but her foot refuses to move. Her mind is paralyzed by one thought.
I’m going to die
Lucy wakes up with tears streaming down her face. She can’t scream because her voice is just as frozen as the girl in her dream. She looks over to Jill’s bed only to find it empty and she knows more than likely her best friend has gone down the hall to Hellboy’s room. She also knows that if she needs to, she can interrupt but she doesn’t want to. Jill is happy and she deserves to be happy so instead, Lucy curls up against the headboard. She presses her back to the wood, straightening her spine against it and buries the heels of her hands against her eyes. After a moment her hand snakes out and she picks up her phone. She knows it’s incredibly early but she’s hoping he’s still awake. She gnaws on her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth until she tastes blood then presses the speed dial for his number. She holds her breath, trying to keep the tears to a minimum as she waits for him to answer.
No one can make this better but she doesn’t need better on nights like this. She just needs distraction so she can go back to sleep without the image of a dead slayer in her head.
She runs, her heart sledge hammering against her chest. She knows without looking over her shoulder that he is still behind her. It is a feeling deep beneath her skin, wriggling in her brain. Her breath is a dagger in her lungs, plunging up into her throat with every single gasp.
She stumbles the way the blonde in the horror movies always does. She pushes herself up from the asphalt and finds her body will no longer cooperate. She’s going to die.
At this point of realization her body makes one last stand, shooting adrenaline through her blood, pushing her further than she thought she’d be able to go, making her feet lighter than they’ve ever been.
And somehow she’s knows it will not be enough.
He’s gaining ground, toying with her because he could have caught her when she stumbled but he wants her to feel that hope. He wants that adrenaline to spike through her blood and he pauses to scent her blood on the pavement then pushes off the balls of his feet; a burst of speed bringing him within three feet of her. She jumps for a fence, grabbing it to scramble over when his hand wraps around her ankle.
Everything inside of her body screams, her mind revolts and her heart skips, stuttering along. He tugs at her leg and she freezes. She closes her eyes and tries to will her body to move. If she can kick hard enough, snap his neck back and push him away, she might have a chance but her foot refuses to move. Her mind is paralyzed by one thought.
I’m going to die
Lucy wakes up with tears streaming down her face. She can’t scream because her voice is just as frozen as the girl in her dream. She looks over to Jill’s bed only to find it empty and she knows more than likely her best friend has gone down the hall to Hellboy’s room. She also knows that if she needs to, she can interrupt but she doesn’t want to. Jill is happy and she deserves to be happy so instead, Lucy curls up against the headboard. She presses her back to the wood, straightening her spine against it and buries the heels of her hands against her eyes. After a moment her hand snakes out and she picks up her phone. She knows it’s incredibly early but she’s hoping he’s still awake. She gnaws on her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth until she tastes blood then presses the speed dial for his number. She holds her breath, trying to keep the tears to a minimum as she waits for him to answer.
No one can make this better but she doesn’t need better on nights like this. She just needs distraction so she can go back to sleep without the image of a dead slayer in her head.