HIS MIND WAS A SURGING PERPLEXITY. What the hell happened to this women? What the hell was this place? Everything looked so haunted here, even the trees looked like they were possessed. So many things didn't seem normal around here, but then again when were things ever normal for him. He dealt with the supernatural all the time, so what was about this place that seemed so off?
"They keep crawling! get them off me!" her blood chilled like ice. yet beads of sweat that were was sharp as broken glass appeared on her skin. crawling over every inch of her body like spiders. She yelped, whimpered, tried to scratch at them. But they wouldn't go away, and now she actually could see them. They were on her, their tiny legs scampering.
A scream bubbled in her throat at the exact moment a wave of dizziness slammed into her, so the sound was nothing more than a groan but she didn't stop, she began to scream franticly. Okay... firstly this place, and now this? The confusion he felt before just doubled, the uncertainty of what was happening put him on edge. He so badly wanted to help her, there was a pull inside him that kept nagging him to help but it was as if he was bound, bound in place unable to move, to help even.
He eyed her worriedly, concerned. But her screams never eased, she just continued in a rhythmic ease, trying her hardest to make him understand but he didn't, "The spiders they keep crawling on me! Please help me!" she pleaded, desperation edge at her entire existence but he saw nothing on her, she was fine, no spiders no nothing.
"There are no spiders, there is nothing on you..." he tried his best to comfort her in her distressed state. Shouting renting the air. What was once peaceful became polluted with rage. He tensed. Whenever things turned like this, there was no escape.
"Please kill them! I'm begging you!" she kept on shouting, desperate to get whatever she saw away from her, she clawed at her skin, hands shook as she dug her sharp nails into her flesh taring away the flesh that resided upon her bones, her pale hands covered in scarlet blood. No doubt she felt the pain in her thighs, as pain throbbed, deep and warm. She kept clawing and clawing, at the rate she was going she wouldn't have much to claw at.
Grayson's attempted to grasp her hands in his, squeezing them tight, preventing her clawing herself to death.
"Stop!" he roared.
"There is nothing there, you hear me?" he continued, slightly frantic.
What was wrong with her? Poison? Oh God, She was loosing her mind...again. She can feel it unraveling, the threads of knowing reality was slipping, she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, her eyes dripped with tears.
Salty drops fall from her chin, drenching her white dress. perhaps those tears she let out will help wash out the blood out. All too soon, the dizzying fog became an ache and the ache a piercing knife, slicing its way from her belly to her heart. She tried moving away From Grayson but couldn't, gasping and moaning at the same time. Bright lights flashed in front of her eyes, an array of blinding colours.
"You don't understand..."
Another pain shot through her and she doubled over. Weak.
"Please Help me I beg of you!" She called, the words weak. She couldn't stop herself from asking for help, she was in need of it. Black cobwebs snaked around her vision, constricting it, blanketing the too-bright rainbow.
"Help." Her voice was a hoarse whisper now, a trembling entreaty. Her stomach cramped; her throat was swelling, closing off. And then, suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Every cell in her body screamed and screamed and screamed. Need air. Need to breathe. Need to get the spiders off. No strength, no energy.
"What? what don't I understand?" Grayson tried his best to grasp the entity of the situations but nothing was making sense. His eyes showed the kind of concern anyone would show in this moment, what was he do to do? he wasn't all that good with helping crazed women in haunted forest.
"His out to get me..." She continued. All these cryptic stuff was surely getting to him, she was an enigma- not like that of books where words are so plainly written out and flow from page to page, but of books torn, frayed, and indecipherable. He didn't have a clue as to what to do, but he held her tightly close to him.
"Who?"
The women, disregarding his question, continued to stare at him wild-eyed, as a damned soul in purgatory might look at Satan passing in regal splendour through the seventy times sevenfold circles of hell.
Her head shook in fear, unable to speak. It is as if she had retreated inside herself; instead of being here answering his question, her watery eyes enlarged and the hairs on the nape of her neck bristled. A gaggle of goose pimples laminated her frigid, naked skin. Slow and deliberate, she was defiantly frightened but at what? At who?
"Who? Who did this to you? Who are you afraid of?" She tried to scream once again, but the inside of her mouth lacked any moisture and a croak was all that missed from her gape.
Finally, as the crows started to swarm in cawing the loudest they have ever done, Grayson glanced away from the women he held in his arms to the huddle of crows. It was a murder of crows. The branches, newly bereft of their leaves, were weighted down with birds so black they looked more like shadows, or perhaps silhouettes cut from the dawn canopy above at night. They stared.
The silence filled the airy sky before they flew his way, he was their target insight. The crows were his nemesis in this very moment. His breathe caught in his throat, holding it in. What was going on? This must be a dream? There was no way this was all real?Before he could react they turned into spec of dust, splattering his face in as he as did the women in his arms.
She dissolved into Volcanic ash, blown away by the wind, but her whispers of the one name that brought dread to his entire existence, it was as if his body slowly fell apart at her uttered word, bring chills to Grayson's core.
"Marcel..." Grayson could not believe What he just heard. What he saw.
"This is...this is...not possible." He scrubbed a callused hand over his eyes, but the sight did not change. Her voice echoed within his mind, his name repeated over and over again. He just couldn't get it out of his mind, to just un-hear it, for it to be unspoken once again but it just kept replaying in a continuous loop over and over and over again. Until he finally snapped.
He roared in pure rage. He just couldn't get away, for once and for all to be free. He had done nothing to deserve this life, maybe it is the fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. It has been there for a while now, this anger, escaping.
There was so much he could take, buried his hands into the dirt, fisting it into his hands out of frustration as he roared like a child having a tantrum. He wanted him dead, all of them, every last one.
He wanted the man who was responsible for his miserable life to suffer the way he had done, to make him lose everything he loves before he cut his throat. But how can you hurt a man who has a stoney heart, a heart of nails? Who was soulless and and uncaring. Who loved nothing more than pain, pain is all he cared about. He was addicted to it. In his fit of rage rising by the minute, the last thing he expected was the man that caused all of it.
"For someone on the run, you are awfully terrible at it."