Frisson (noun)

A sudden strong feeling of excitement or fear; a thrill. A shiver of pleasure.

Chapter 1

(Mako P.O.V)

I tiptoe in the darkness. I'm not hungry, I'm not bloated, I'm not ill...but my stomach hurts. I've attempted this run away a few time, I'm not scared I'll get caught. I'll just try again if that happens. I stroke the stairs railing gliding down, I won't be caught this time. Because it's dark this time, it's night time. And that's why I'm nervous. It's dark, I can barely see where I'm going. My shoulders and neck feel tight, but I still look back behind me a few times and check my surroundings. I'm not scared of tripping or running into something, I'm scared of the dark. You never know what's in it. It's surrounding everything; it's eating up everything in its path. It did not give me any mercy as I wish for it to go away.

After walking down the stairs, I saunter straight ahead towards the kitchen. The cold tiles beneath my barefoot lik lik as I hurry away. My shoulder touches the door frame lightly and I can almost see everything in the kitchen, thanks to my brain and the years I spent in here; the house is mapped in my head. I push myself in giving the dining chairs a touch. After one, two, three, four, five steps I stop. I lift my hand before me, touching the glass doors that lead to the garden. Placing both hands on the cold glass, I propel it to the left and I hear it slide, shoving it aside gently to minimize any noise. Breathing out when it's wide enough for me to squeeze out. I place a foot out on the moist grass; rough and shaggy like uncombed hair; damp and springy, pursing my lips so hard my teeth prick my skin. I pull my other foot out and slide the glass door close behind me, leaving a tiny gap since it makes a clicking noise if I shut it. I don't want to risk it. I twirl around and dash away my heart aching, can't tell is it nervousness or excitement. I can't be excited, I didn't make it yet.

The garden lamp doesn't serve justice, it barely lights anything around but I still thank it as I can't be picky, and it's better than nothing. The fence is so tall my neck hurts as I look up at it. It's wood and the gaps between each wood piece is thinner than my patience. I stroke my nose stepping back to launch myself at it feeling sweat trickle down my back. As my body collides with the railing, I press my fingers and toes into the gaps and I feel the skin peel as I prick them in to support my weight. I glance down trying to see where to push my toes next but the light isn't serving me. Using the senses I'm gifted with, I stroke the surface and find a higher gap. I start climbing, my fingers shacking at my weight and my skin begins to sting but I make it to the top. Before I get the chance to take a deep breath, I grab at the railing and haul my right leg, slamming it hard the first time failing to make it to the other side but trying again. It slides to the other side and I pull myself up. I lay face forward on the wooden railing, watching my house thinking of everything I've always known... should I go back... no. Nostalgia is a liar.

"This hurts..." I whisper to myself; the railing digging at my stomach as I look over the other side, the new side. I slide my left leg and hang from the railing. I swallow and close my eyes shut bracing myself for the pain. I let go. Falling with a thud, I place part of my fist in my mouth to stop myself from wining, my limbs aching. I press at my right foot with the other hand so hard to ease the pain. After the dramatic pain episode I tug at my bag pulling it towards me and sliding my shows out. I slide the socks and quickly pull my sneakers on, tightening my laces. I push myself up, wearing my bag properly looking at my surroundings. It's a road. Just a road, no lightning whatsoever. Beyond a few steps I won't be able to see anything. I could beat myself up and complain that I should have brought a torch, but I don't have one nor could I steal it. I see a few dim lights far from where I am and on lower ground than where I'm standing. That's probably the city. I don't take another look at my house and run forward, the sooner I get there, wherever that is the better. The beautiful moon lights my way, beaming bright giving me white shivers all over. I walk and walk, my feet skiing down almost giving me a tumble at the uneven road. I think the house was on a hill and I'm walking down. I give myself a hug, my fingers ice cold as I touch my shivering arms. After a while of walking I grab into my bag straps and start running again, I need to get as far away as possible, in case someone notices me missing.

After my hair begins to stick on my sweating forehead, my converse tugging at my toes and I believe I'm about to die, my lungs not really loving all the running. Breathing heavily I realize I made it down to the city. I brush away my wet bangs feeling my face flushed. I try to stop it but a smile stretches on my face. I'm facing an ally entrance, I can see bright lights oozing from the end of the ally. I jump up and down my hands in fists biting down at my lips to hold my screams. I made it! I'm now surrounded by noise, people and many different scents... some not so fan of already. I pull my camera out of my bag and snap a picture of the ally.

I hear myself squeal quietly knowing that it's probably a nice shot. Placing my camera back inside I make strides down the ally. It doesn't smell so good, actually it smells bad, old trash oozing from a dark green container filling the air with acidy and distinctive odour. I step out of the ally and into the loud street. My heart is thumbing so fast I can hear it in my heated burning ears. People are walking right and left, so many lights, so many people, so much noise. I hear a few girls laughing, four of them walking in pairs holding on to each other, I smile knowing that is my future now that I'm out here. Looking up the tall buildings wondering what's in them, people's homes? I've never seen such tall buildings, almost scary. No one thought they might fall on people?

I begin to march with others, just gliding with them blending in. Smiling; I wave at a child walking ahead of me who responds with a blank none existent face, I've never seen a toddler, they are so tiny! Losing my balance as someone strides past me and another from the other side, I ramble to the side of the road as everyone's going too fast and I can't seem to be able to find my time to pick myself up. Breathing heavily I place my hands on my ears trying to shut the loud music coming from my right. I blink a few times at the bright light accompanying the music shining from a store.

I sit on the sidewalk looking through the pictures I took, the sugary taste in my mouth that I got from wondering into candy shops I got to taste offered by a kind salesman bring me joy.

My head swings up when a sudden, piercing scream rips through the air. High and shrill, the barely human shriek echoes across the packed street. Every human in sight turns to look toward the source unable to move. I stand still, hands clutching my camera; feeling my blood turn to icy slush as I watch people begin to scurry to the opposite direction. I finally force myself to move, placing my camera in my bag as people scream in fear amongst themselves. I stand up gazing at the place everyone running away from. My legs leisurely carry me further to the scene. I spot a man running and running; looking behind him as if something might be following him. I speed up to see what's happening, is this something that might be snapped into my camera?

A wave of scrambling group of people come my way and I push myself out from the panicking hands and into the empty scene. I find someone on the floor, a man. His hand reaches out to me, the only person in his view. A shrill goes down my spine as I spot the blood, bright yellow light shining on it making it look muddy black. His stomach is bleeding, liquid tainting his white shirt. Fear washes over me like icy dew on my skin.

"Help." He whispers, voice brittle and shaky. I swallow holding down at the straps of my back bag stepping from one foot to the other in my place. I kneel down, now my hands hovering over his body. I know what to do, I think... I think I know what to do. I look up around my breath cutting short at people's wails as if they're the ones laying down here bleeding.

Now the man's shirt dripped with blood. Yes, I need to stop his bleeding. I nod at myself taking my bag off and place it on the floor beside me. I pull off my sweater tugging at my hair so hard I know it's messy now. Making a ball out of my sweater I take a deep breath leaning forward licking my lips. I close my eyes for a moment then place it over the man's wound. He grunts as I force down my hands. People get stabbed out here? Gun shot? I don't think I can take a look at the wound. I get a tingle in my stomach as his blood smudges over my hands. What can I do? It's not like I'm a doctor... I'm a nobody. I'm minimizing the bleeding...but now what? What should I do next?

A shoving sound over the tilled floor; someone dragging their feet coming from behind grabs my attention, making me look up behind me as if hope has come; hope that's here to rescue me from this responsibility rather than a hope to save the man.

"Can you help? he needs a doctor becau..." My words sleep in my throat as I gaze up at my saviour. Blood all over his baggy sweater.

"You need help too..." I blink feeling week, the acid vile trying to make its way out of my mouth. I just want to get up and leave.

"Get away from it. It's my fesh." The tall boy standing before me waves lightly with his hand to the right slowly, as if out of energy. His voice coming like a shrill as if he needs to cough. I stare up at him still holding down the man's wound with my sweater. His blood-smudged bucket hat covering half of his face, splashes of deep red mess his sharp edged face.

"Can you help? I mean you look hurt yourself, do you..." He cuts my wobbly voice off raising his head and titling it to the left, bringing his arm up to his face and wiping at his lips. He let's out a laugh, through his teeth. I stare blankly...he laughed?

"Are you okay in the head you mode-flick!?" The boy snickers using a word I never heard before, a short burst of laughter mixed with a phlegm-filled snort. Then his face grew serious, his eyebrows slanting inward. I want to ask the same back but I think he's injured and scared and lost it for now, that's the best explanation I can come up with now. I ignore him and look back at the man on the floor. I need to call a doctor.

"Do you have a telephone sir? a hand phone?" I ask leaning close to him so he can understand me. The wind sweeps at my forehead, now the blood scent like an acrobat in the air. The only answer I receive is a whine groan of pain. I lift one of my hands and tap at the man's sides violating his privacy. I make out a hard square so I push my hand in the pocket to pull it out.

"Are you deaf?!" The boy behind interrogates in his loud rough voice. My hands shake as I hold the telephone.

"Sit down before you faint or something... uh do you know your doctors phone number sir?" I question my lips dry. I swipe to get the emergency number dial, trying a few times as the blood on my fingertips make it hard. The tall boy comes to my right and squats down.

"Do you know your doctor's number? we need quick help. He's bleeding a lot." I utter swallowing trying to ease the pain in my chest. The phone in my hand is wet and bloody. I bring my arm up and block my nose, the evocative acrid smell fools my tongue into tasting iron in my mouth.

"Apparently I'm hard to read." The squatting boy shrugs. I glance up at him as he gazes back, my mouth in a twist. What is he talking about? What's with that calm look on his face? Isn't he hurt? I search his face, trying to find where the blood came from. Where is the wound? I find nothing but blood splashes on his pallid skin. I sigh shaking my head, I'm confused. I'm not a doctor, I can't help. I glance back at him as he takes his hands and tangle them, pushing them forward to crack them. What on earth is wrong with this boy? He looks calm... and that's not an option in this situation. Maybe I'm the one stressing for no reason... Brother did say I stress and fuss for no reason many times before. But a man bleeding to death, people running... how dare I categorize that as a no reason?

As my lashes flutter twice I take a sharp deep breath, my attention suddenly snaps up by a new detail. Tiny veins stretch from the bucket boy's upper lip, like tiny thunder streaks.

My eyes find his in silence. He nods pursing his lips in approval at my thoughts. I slouch against the bleeding man, sitting partly on him itching away from the tall boy. I feel a rattling pressure of uncertainty, making my head splinter with pain. I lean back for a better view, finding it hard to believe what my eyes are seeing, maybe my brain is just playing a trick on me. I hold my hand up with the phone, ready to use it as a weapon. He glances over at the man who's gone quite. He points at him saying,

"I'm no doctor but I think that pulp is dead." He nods calmly, brushing at his red smudged wet jaw. I glance over quickly and lay my eyes back on the boy. Exactly, he's not a doctor. He's something else.

"Stay...stay where you are, I'm...I'm warning...I'm really warning you." I press through short breaths, tugging my knees closer to me; further from him. His eyes glisten, widening blazing with amusement.

"Or?" He shrugs looking at the phone in my hand, challenging me. I scramble to my feet hauling my body up so fast my vision gets muddled with white spots, scratching my knees against the concrete in the process. I look over at the bleeding man, I think he's gone. Taking a deep breath stepping back eyeing the quite boy as he gawks at me. Should I run away... and leave the man behind... he's probably gone. I lie to myself taking a step back clutching the phone. I take another look at the man on the floor and I can see his chest heaving up and down, almost unnoticeable. What if I was the one laying there? bleeding to death... would I leave me behind?... I take another step back. Swallowing I turn around and sprint the direction I came from before I realize I'm doing so, but I don't stop myself, I don't think I can. I turn to l glance back at the tall boy making sure he's not following me. I dash away stomping along the tiled road. Looking ahead I spot people standing clutching each other crying. Crying of joy, that they're not the ones on the ground bleeding.

(Tall Boy P.O.V)

I sigh as I take the old thing's arm into my mitts. Bringing it closer to my face, I take the knife beside the body and push it into the man's arm. He groans as blood seeps out.

"This pulp still alive? ah fresh as ever." I say tugging at his arm. I pull the knife out and cut at the other side to pull the chunk out.