Chereads / Rage To Ruin: The Fallen Angels (BL) / Chapter 10 - Flying Without Wings

Chapter 10 - Flying Without Wings

(ZANE)

I am nervous for the rest of the day. All night too. I lay on the bed, blinds closed on all windows, and the bedside lamp turned on. Each time I hear even a subtle sound, I expect the auburn-hired man to burst through my doors and take my ass out. And not in a fun way.

I am too nervous to sleep, so I break into my emergency stash of ice cream and sit in the kitchen as I stuff my face. It is almost midnight, and I know that eating so late in the night is bad for the diet. I debate the pros and cons of my weight loss, and I eat another spoonful of mint chocolate chip.

At this moment, the ice cream is winning.

A car alarm also goes off outside.

The sudden sounds make me jumps, and I rush to the window that faces the street. Lights flare on a small white car parked by the curb as the alarm wails. The bar isn't far from the car park, but sometimes, people stash their cars in my street if they can't find a place closer to the park.

The horn honks once, and the alarm goes off. A guy appears seconds later, his arms thrown around some other girl. They get into the car and leave.

Then a dark shape darts on the sidewalk into the bushes below my window. I duck out of sight. My heart is now beating out of my chest.

'That's probably just a stray dog. Nothing to worry about.'

I chuckle to myself as I walk over to put a lid on the nearly empty ice cream tub. It was just a few days ago when I freaked out about that damn box, and now I nearly lose my shit over some dog scampering on the outside. The confrontation with the guy from earlier made me paranoid. Add that to being stressed and overworked, and me being on edge makes sense. Maybe I need to take Dante's advice and take a break for a week. Go somewhere nice and relax.

I can't even remember the last time I took a vacation.

Thud.

I snap my head towards the window before walking across the room and taking a peek outside. My trash can has been knocked over, and while I'm still searching for what might have knocked it down in the dark, another thud. This time, it is the backdoor.

"Yeah, I don't like this." I mumble to myself as I pick up the baseball bat propped against the wall, then I head over to the front door. Listening.

Could it be the auburn-haired psycho?

I grip the bat tighter and wait.

And I keep waiting.

Five minutes pass, and I relax a little. I really need some sleep. My paranoia has gotten way out of control. I place the bat back on the wall, then sit on the edge of my bed, rubbing the back of my neck frustratedly.

Then a crash comes from the window beside me.

Glass shatters inwards, bringing in a gust of cold air. I shield my face on reflex, then jump off the bed. It takes my brain a moment to process what just happened. The bedside lamp falls to the floor, and the light bulb smashes into a thousand pieces, making the room pitch black.

At first, I thought that it was a storm. We expect some rain, and the wind can get pretty gusty. It isn't completely impossible for a branch from a tree beside my building to crash through my window.

But that doesn't explain the lamp.

Or the harsh breathing sounds in my room.

"H…hello―" I ask. Yes. That is what morons do in scary movies. It seems like all the reason currently left my brain.

Something scurries across the floor to my left side. I squint my head and whip my head all the way through the dark. My eyes adjust a bit, but all I see are dark shapes. More scampering. Sounds like nails on a wooden floor. A cat, maybe?

Oh God, please let it be a cat.

What the hell? I crinkle my nose and smell barbecue. Like when you leave meat too long on a grill that it burns up into crisp.

A shadow dashes in front of me. I jump backwards, and my legs knock onto the bed, sending me to the floor off balance. My ass hits the floor, and the stench of burning barbecue fills my nostrils.

Then I feel it. A hot breath on my cheek.

Shiver runs down my spine, and for a moment, I can't move. I am too paralysed with fear to even think or act. But somehow, an inner strength flares up inside me. I refuse to sit back defenceless.

I roll to the side, then jump to my feet. Sharp nails click on the floor behind me as I flee. I lunge for the baseball bat. Just right after I grab it, my pursuer barrels behind me and knocks the bat out of my hand. My body slams onto the wall, and something sharp sinks into my calf, then throws me into the air. I hit the ground hard enough to knock all the air out of my lungs and silence the scream threatening to tear through my throat.

When I can finally suck in a deep breath, I start to gag. Along with the charred scent, I also get a whiff and a rot. I have never smelt anything that horrible in my life. Smoke swirls around me. And my eyes sting.

Is something on fire? It has to be.

I push to my feet and unlock the dead bolt on the door, then I yank it open. I limp down the stairs, gritting my teeth against the sting on my leg. Blood streams off the wound and drips on the steps. The thing follows me. I can tell because of its hoarse breathing.

I reach the bottom landing, then hobble towards the exit door. If I open it, the alarm will go off. I will get help shortly.

But I don't get the chance.

Teeth sink into my injured leg and bring me down. Tears pool in my eyes, both from fear and the stench of smoke and rot. I stare up at the door that isn't even two feet away from me. Claws dig to my side, then I get flipped to my back.

Pressure lands on my chest, and I wail as sharp claws dig into my shirt. I can't see anything but darkness above me. I swing my arm to knock the thing off me, but then another set of teeth clamps down at my bicep. I don't know what the hell they are. But there are two of them. My shirt now hangs in tatters, and sharp claws dig into my skin, slicing my chest open.

I scream then inhale the smoke, which makes me cough unstoppably.

They are going to rip me apart. They are going to kill me. There is little that I can do to save myself. What's worse is I can't even see them.

People say that life flashes in your eyes before you finally die, but I don't see the childhood memories playing in a loop in my head. All I see is darkness. I don't feel anything but pain and crippling fear.

"Blaine! He's down here."

Whose voice is that?

The creatures attacking me suddenly disappear. Grunts sound a few feet away, then a high-pitched screech followed by crackling, like the flames of a dying pit. The burning smell lessens. I try to keep my eyes open. But it doesn't do me any good. I am losing consciousness.

"Fuck." The man says, his voice closer now. "He doesn't look good. What should we do? Should we drop him at the hospital?"

"No. He won't survive that long." A gentle pressure touches my cheek. There is something comfortable about the touch. "We will take him with us."

"Kian will be pissed." The other guy says.

"Let him." I feel my arm slip under me, then I get lifted off the floor. Then something brushes across my forehead. "I've got you."

I probably should care that a complete stranger is carrying me. But he has saved me from being eaten alive by all those damn creatures. And he is so warm. So familiar. Impress my face on his bare shoulder, breathing in his scent.

Sandalwood with a subtle hint of citrus.

The slight rocking of his body as he walks relaxes me even more. Cold air touches my face, and he holds me closer to his chest. He must have gone outside. The alarm doesn't go off when he opens the door. Did he disarm it? Stupid how I can think of such random crap at the moment.

I manage to open my eyes, if only for a moment, and I see the night sky. The stars are hinting bright. Stars that seem closer than usual.

I could have sworn we were flying.