Page 15 of Locke

Then, instead of pulling the trigger, Max Locke dropped his hand and walked away.

Five

Locke

Tick-tock.

He let the seconds go by, and he wondered, should I pull the trigger? But the rage in her gaze made his heart rattle like a cobra.

Tick-tock.

Who was this defiant little thing who could stare death in the face and tell it, “Fuck you”?

Tick-tock.

Where was her light when she lied to his face and said that was what she was?

Tick-tock.

Darkness everywhere. It clung to her like it did him, and with it, the random bursts of light. Of colour and good. Of beauty and purity.

Tick-tock.

And the next second, there it was, the black hanging around her like rotten slime. The rage and the ugly. The darkness and the evil. Its decaying form shimmering in her gaze as she looked him straight in the eyes with such loathing, he felt for once she could see him in his truest form. None of this fearful bullshit he was always so used to. For once, he was transparent. For once he did not hide even as he stood in the darkness.

Who was this strange, beautiful girl?

Why did Locke gravitate toward her just then?

And suddenly he felt it—a strange knot in his throat, the hard thump of his heart as it sped in his chest like it wanted to break loose. He felt and felt—

And since when had he ever felt?

Since he was a frightened child.

Since before he was trapped in a hole to be molested and fucked by grown men of power. What became of that innocent boy that was put into blackness where he became one with the cold and decay? He fucking died.

Tick-tock.

That was, Locke thought he died. Until now. Until the rattle vibrated within him, and suddenly it felt like his chest was pierced with incredulity and wonder.

He walked away from the beautiful witch that put it there.

She was mad.

She was crazy.

Tick-tock.

What the fuck was wrong with her to react to him in such a way?

He walked away, but he wanted to flee instead.

Because nobody did that.

Tick-tock.

She was insane.

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