97. Soundless as Death.

Rose's POV:

I remember, as a kid, a memory of me running and my father running after me. It was in a not so different from the meadow like this one. The difference is that in that memory I was so happy.

My smile, my giggles, my mother watched with a beautiful smile of her own as I ran on my little feet. I believed I was so fast my father couldn't catch me. 

Now I know, my father merely wanted me to think that. For I am not fast, not fast at all and the man following behind me, he doesn't hold the affection of a father.

I'm not sure if he holds any kind of affection.

This man doesn't wanna see me succeed, he wants to ruin me. His intentions with me may not be completely known by me yet. Though, one thing is clear, they aren't good. Not at all.

I was sprinting to the best of my capabilities, yet the one following me was easily catching up to me. No matter how fast I went, he was right behind me. Not falling behind and neither catching me.

With what I witnessed back there; his speed and his abilities, I know he is toying with me right now. 

Like swinging meat in front of a hungry animal, watching them struggle in hopes of attaining sustenance and just when they think they finally had it that's when he would take it away.

Just like me. 

He wants me to have hope that I can make it to safety, that I can outrun him and when I would start to believe it wholly that I got away, That is when he would catch me.

He is right behind me I can feel it. If he would raise his hand he could grab me. 

That feeling was messing with my head.

The fear that he would do it anytime, the despair of my coming capture making my vision blurry; yet, it not coming to fruition with every passing second making me feel hope of my survival. Only for the whole thing to repeat itself as I kept running. 

Finally I break past the line of trees marking the end of the wilderness and now I am running on the grass of a clear landing. My house visible and just out of my reach. 

I believed that the one tailing behind me would also end his relentless pursuit when I exit his domain. That he would not step out of the darkness and into the light. 

I thought he commanded the darkness and that is where he will stay.

How foolish and wishful. 

It was utterly senseless of me to assume that my hunter is restricted to the shadows as I made the mistake of looking back for just a second—only because I had stopped hearing him behind me. 

The forest had indeed betrayed his presence before, the rustling leaves, the brittle crunch of dried twigs snapping underfoot.

But now, with the ground damp and padded with grass, there was nothing left to betray his movement. 

He was still there. A shadow trailing my every step, soundless as death. 

In that fleeting glimpse I see him I only see his form, clad in dark attire and the hood still hanging over his head obscuring all but eyes.

Molten gold. Unwavering. Curious.

He hadn't stopped hunting me.

I had a dreadful thought, he will never stop until he has me.

I was so close. My house just a few feet ahead; I remained vigilante in my sprint and determine in my cause. I will survive.

At least I will die trying.

When the wooden steps to the patio creaked under my urgent feet that is when I released a breath of relief. Now all I need to do is get to the doors, get in and lock them.

I am almost there.

My hand reached to the handle of the glass door before my feet could. My fingers clenched the cold metal in a satisfying grip and my wrist twisted to open it.

Then I finally halted after running what felt like longer then a marathon. And far more deadlier.

All the heat from my muscles I felt draining away from my being. 

I twist the doorknob, but it doesn't budge. A sharp pang of panic shoots through me as I rattle it again—once, twice, three times—each attempt more desperate than the last. 

The door frames rattles on it's hinges under my force, still the darned thing doesn't give away.

My breath catches in my throat as I press my forehead against the cool glass, peering inside in desperation and utter disappointment.

I have never longed to be inside this house as much as I do now. 

Even in the stilling darkness, the familiar silhouettes of furniture, the scattered remnants of daily life, all seem impossibly inviting, comforting even. 

Funny how the mundane transforms into a sanctuary when the alternative is a torturous demise.

Then, the sound comes.

A slow, deliberate creak of wood.

First step.

Second step.

And the third.

He is now on the patio with me.