6. Her Savior or Her Demise
1025 Words
Cold.
Harley shivered in a puddle of her own blood. Her eyes were blurry and dry as she gazed out into the empty warehouse. She thought she heard a noise outside. Laughter. Or maybe it was the wind. She hunched her shoulders together, hoping she could gather some heat to stop the harsh wracks going through her body. It was a waste of time and energy, but it was a small comfort that made her feel like she was doing something.
Lying there—without trying—would be the moment when she’d given up.
She wanted to. She really did. Giving up would be so much nicer. Because when she was trying, she was hoping, and when she was hoping, she was setting herself up for failure.
However, as much as she wanted to continue to fight through the pain, it soon got to the best of her. Her body sagged after many failed attempts to get out of the binds. Her face felt like it had gone through a meat grinder and her limbs felt like they’d been beaten for hours on end.
There was no escape from the pain. No matter how she turned or twisted, it followed her, sliding under her skin like a parasite.
Was this where she gave up? She didn’t want to. But it seemed like there was nothing left for her to do. Her body had given up before she had the chance to make the decision herself.
Harley’s eyes began to close. The light from outside the warehouse flickered. They were blurry fireflies in her teary vision. She thought briefly that they were beautiful. She could watch them hours on end.
She was thinking just that when she heard footsteps.
Her eyes slowly opened once more. Her eyelids were weighed down and it took a lot more energy than it should have. Her heart was racing and she shivered once more as the footsteps got even closer.
They sounded strange. They sounded like they were coming from a different room. They were echoey. She didn’t know what to make of it as they were right behind her. A shiver went down her spine. The air in the room had changed. The scent was no longer musky. It was a cinnamon smell that burned her nose. The texture or the density of the air had changed as well. It filled her lungs out, giving them no room at all. While it was different, it didn’t necessarily hurt. She just felt full to the point she thought that if she took too many breaths then her lungs were going to explode.
The fear was back. It was gripping her tightly, not letting her go. She fought to get her breathing under control. Her chest was heaving against her wishes, causing her thoughts to spiral. She was already light headed from Sam smacking her around. She didn’t need to hyperventilate and make it that much worse.
The footsteps were there, behind her, beside her. She couldn’t move. She was stricken as she smelled the cinnamon distinctly. She breathed it in with a shaky inhale. Her tears spilled out in one last gush, as if even they knew that this was the end of the road for her.
She flinched as the footsteps stopped beside her. Whoever it was, they were just standing there. Watching her.
Her skin crawled. Bile pushed at the back of her throat.
But instead of stomping down at her like she thought the feet were going to do, the person stepped over her.
She didn’t expected to see black combat boots or silver chains hanging down from them. She hadn’t even noticed the light clinking sound until just now. She’d been tuning it all out this whole time, too focused on the impending death and the sharp cinnamon smell that was clogging all her pours.
She could really smell it down. It was settling over her body, taking over her. It wasn’t as bad as it had been when she’d first smelled it. Though it was a lot to handle at once, it was kinda nice. It made her feel warm, flushed, and it was a nice contrast to the cold cement floor.
The boots turned on their heels and faced her. She stared wide eyed at them, taking in the thick souls and running up them to see the black pant leg. She didn’t know what to make of them at first. She thought it was odd that someone was wearing such heavy looking clothes when it was pretty warm outside.
But the random thought soon faded when she looked up and saw the face of the person that was before her.
He was an angel.
That’s the first thing she thought when she saw his face. It might have been true in some sense, but if he was at this particular place, he really couldn’t have been one. Not even close really.
His hair was dark—pitch black. His eyes were just as dark. The irises were so dark that she couldn’t tell them apart from his pupils, making it seem like close to his whole eye was black. His eyes were hooded, eyebrows on the thick side, and his skin was a warm shade that reminded her of long days in the sun.
Her heart stuttered as she glanced down at his chest. He was wearing a simple black long sleeved shirt. There were more silver chains dangling from his pants. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five.
He squatted down in front of her. His movements were effortless, yet, he moved with no sense of care at the same time.
“Hello,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk. Two prominent dimples appeared on either sides of his cheeks.
Harley blinked. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was slightly dazed, confused about the current development, and she didn’t know how she should feel about this new person.
Maybe fear. That might have been a good guess.
Because like she’d thought before, anyone that was in this place wasn’t here for a good reason.
- Writer
