Page 12 of Hunt Me
Once I get to my feet and help the body of mischief I have acquired to hers, I turn bathing in the evening sunlight.
I don’t recognise where we are.
The rubble that litters the streets represents the majority of the city, and these particular damaged buildings are not familiar. At this point I’d of thought I would know each street in the city like the back of my hand by now but with buildings falling down all of the time, especially at this time of the year when the weather is shit — a constant battering of wind, rain and snow — streets are often unrecognisable.
‘I don’t think we’re in Maryhill anymore,’ I announce, turning to my right.
Mischief is not next to me like she was a second ago, and instead, she has decided to wander off. Her short legs storm down the broken street as she explores. It’s cute that she’s trying to put distance between us.
My little deer has me transfixed on her body and how she carries herself. Her steps are strong and confident as she moves, but none of that takes away from the way her hips sway with each angry step. The splatters of her victim's blood on her trouser leg, matching the red on her bat, only makes her that much sexier.
I bite my knuckle relishing in the distraction of the sting of my teeth against my skin. Fuck what did I ever do to deserve such a woman.
I remember how my heart pounded in my ears as I thought that high-pitched scream was hers. God how wrong I was. Air fans inside my mask as I quietly chuckle remembering the look of malice on her face as she lifted her bat from where it was embedded in that rat's crotch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything better and I’ve definitely not seen anything more attractive.
Did I get a little hard over my mischievous deer popping his balls?
Yes.
Am I sick in the head?
Clearly.
Will I ever let her go now?
Never.
‘Hey! Where are you going?’ I shout, breaking into a light jog after her.
She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t even acknowledge me at all and that only fuels my interest.
I catch up to her hand reaching out to touch her arm.
She swings on me and a small knife presses into my groin.
I whistle. ‘You have a thing for messing with guys' balls, don’t you,’ I lean towards her relishing in the pressure from the knife.
‘We’re out now so stop following me,’ she sneers.
Her hazel eyes glow with fight and I get lost in their depths. Mischief applies more pressure with her blade pulling my attention back to our interaction.
What did she say again?
‘Leave. Me. Alone.’ She spits reading my confused thoughts.
This time the tip of her blade breaks through my trouser leg and the cool edge of the blade pricks at the skin of my upper thigh.
I could snatch it out of her hand. My fingers twitch to do just that as I remember how her fist felt so small covered by my own.
Her soft face is framed through the holes of my mask again, allowing me to focus on all the details I missed earlier in the tunnels. Her eyes are so strikingly beautiful, they’d been one of the first things I’d noticed, but now the dark bags below them look worse, causing her eyes to look sunken with exhaustion. Little deer might act on the outside like she is fine, but her tatted hair and worn down clothes say otherwise. Something about seeing the signs that she is struggling has my chest aching in a way it's never done before. And it has me doing something irrational for the second time today.
I take her hand — the one she currently holds a knife dangerously close to my crotch – and hold it in my own, pulling myself in close to her.
‘Now there’s no need to hurt the merchandise. I’m sure there are more…’ I tilt my head, ‘interesting things you could do than stabbing at my crotch.’
She scoffs. Her answer comes in her trying to apply more pressure with the blade but my grip holds strong.
‘Fine, fine.’ I move back releasing her and hold my hands in the air, ‘but I’m not leaving you. I bet you have no idea where you are.’
