Page 4 of Psycho Boys

I feel dizzy and sick to my stomach from the immense pain all throughout my body. I try to reach up again to make contact with the figure, but I can't move, and as they speak, their chilling voice has me frozen in fear as darkness begins to consume me.

"Stupid, move," the man says, an oddly familiar voice, even through my random blackouts. "You thought you could walk away so easily?" I cringe from his evil laughter, feeling like I'm going to pass out. "You'll never be able to walk away from me, Calista, I fucking promise you."

Finally, the sound of sirens blares in the distance, and my hope grows instantly. But it fades just as quickly when my vision and my mind begin slipping, slowly fading to black.

"Let's get you out of here, shall we?" He says in a flat tone, but I can't make out everything he's saying.

Somehow managing to get me out of the car, I'm dumped onto the cold pavement and dragged across what I assume is a street, far away from any help who might be on their way.

As I'm thrown into the trunk of the car, he looks down at me once more, shaking his head. "You're a stupid little girl; did you know that?"

As soon as the words leave his lips, the trunk slams shut, and the car immediately jerks forward, speeding away. And as I try to make sense of everything, suddenly, without any warning, everything around me fades to black, and I can feel myself slipping further and further away.

TWO

STOLEN

UNTIL THE DAY I DIE: STORY OF THE YEAR

DOMINIC

Asharp, piercing noise fills my ears, drowning out all other sounds. As I struggle to open my eyes, shards of glass seem to dig into my skin, while a thick haze clouds my vision, shrouding everything in darkness. The acrid scent of gasoline assaults my nostrils, intensifying with every breath, quickening my pulse, and filling me with dread.

What the fuck just happened?

Suspended upside down, I fumble for the seatbelt buckle, finally managing to release it. The sudden jolt of freedom sends me crashing down to the ground, where I land in more glass, the shards embedding deeper into my skin. Though pain is the last thought on my mind.

"Calista!" I scream, but it feels as if my voice is trapped—a silent plea in the chaos.

Desperately, I rub my ears, not stopping until the buzzing subsides into a faint hum. I wipe the blood and dust frommy eyes, blinking furiously until the flickering of streetlights becomes clear, illuminating the wreckage that surrounds me.

But Calista is nowhere to be seen. Her distant screams echo in my mind, mingling with the sound of shuffling that signals someone has taken her from the car. Through the darkness, I catch a glimpse of a tall, shadowy figure dragging someone across the street—the unmistakable panic tightening around my chest. The last thing I hear is her being taken away from the scene, and I'm left alone in the mangled metal that once used to be my favorite car. Although giving up is something that I don't ever do, I can feel myself losing hope, giving into the warm, fuzzy sensations coursing through my body.

But that flicker—barely perceptible—reminds me of Calista. I can't let myself drift into unconsciousness, not when she might still be out there, vulnerable and terrified. I push against the ground, feeling the sharp glass pieces tearing at my skin, yet the pain is a mere whisper in the face of my growing urgency.

I stagger to my feet, the world around me spinning, an unsteady carousel of ruin. It’s hard to think straight, but the instinct to fight overrides the throbbing in my head. I glance around, trying to find even the faintest hint of her presence. The road is empty now, mere silhouettes flickering in the dim light, shadows that mock my frantic search.

"Calista!" I call again, desperation clawing at my throat, each syllable echoing through the cold night.

My voice feels like it might break under the weight of panic, but I refuse to let it win.

A faint movement catches my eye at the edge of the lot, where tangled vines creep up warped barriers. Heart pounding, I weave my way through the wreckage, each step sending fresh waves of agony from my injuries, but I ignore it all. I need to press on toward that flicker.

I reach the edge, and my breath catches. The shadow emerges from behind a car, and in that half-light, I can make out the very last person I want to see—the figure looms large, imposing, but more than that, it holds something—or someone—tightly in its grasp.

"Calista!" I roar, adrenaline fueling every ounce of strength I can muster.

As they turn, I can see her face pressed against the figure’s shoulder, eyes wide, mouth moving in a silent scream. Their grip is too tight, a sinister promise that sends the shivers of fear deep into my bones.

"Let her go!" I charge forward, fueled by rage and an instinct to protect her at all costs.

The shadowy figure turns, placing themselves between me and Calista, grinning with a chilling confidence that sends dread coursing through my veins.

"Why should I?" they taunt, their voice low and sinister. "She already knows too much."

Who is that? What else could she possibly know? The questions spin wildly in my mind, pulling me deeper into confusion while the figure begins to retreat.

A spark ignites within me. I won’t let them take her, not now, not ever. With every ounce of strength left, I dive toward them, feet pounding against the pavement.

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