Page 128 of Darkened Promises

Slowly, with my heart racing, I look through lowered lids, peering down my body to see where he is. Whilst I’m grateful for the reprieve, I’m devastated that the plan didn’t work. I’m still here and worse off than I was before.

I failed.

It takes a moment to blink through the tears blurring the sight before me. When I do, bile races up my throat, and it’s a fight to swallow it down.

This…is not good. Really not good.

Peter’s no longer the threat.

A few feet away from me, he’s on a chair. Tied and bound.

With him being in the only part of the kitchen I can see, the culprit’s obscured from my position in the hallway. Something I’m grateful for. Because anyone who’s able to do this to him…can do so much worse to me.

I know I need to move, to creep away whilst whoever has Peter is distracted.

But I can’t.

I’m transfixed, watching the person who shattered and fractured my life irrevocably, to the point I’ve been too afraid to leave my home, completely questioning who I am. And now he’s hurting the way I wanted him to.

Sweat beads along his hairline. The pulse in his neck thrashes, and his laboured breathing fills with pain. The blood runs down the gashes inflicted across his face.

His eyes narrow, turning hard even with fear flickering within them. “You won’t get away with this,” he spits, nose wrinkling as his mouth curls into a jeer.

Even though he’s at someone else’s mercy, my stomach sinks, and a chill spreads through my limbs at the mottled anger on his face. That instinct to cower remains, but it kick starts my self-preservation. My heels catch purchase on the floor as I slowly push myself backwards.

I desperately want to bolt, to run as far from here as I can, but my first attempt failed so badly. I need to try to hold on to some form of patience and slowly extract myself.

My left arm’s useless, the pain too sharp and agonising for it to be of any help right now, so I keep it slung across my stomach as I shuffle a slow inch at a time.

A figure steps into my line of sight, moving to stand behind Peter.

Their hand wraps around the front of his neck, then they tilt down until their face is level over his shoulder.

Their gaze locks onto mine.

Air stutters from my lungs, and icy fingers slide down my spine at their unhinged, blank expression. It’s completely at odds with the painted one on their face.

Clad in some sort of black and burgundy spandex bodysuit, their face is painted to resemble a blend between a mime artist and a clown…but so artfully done that it almost doesn’t look like makeup.

Or perhaps it isn’t.

I might just be seeing things; still knocked out from the pain Peter inflicted on my arm.

Because if I’m not seeing things, there’s a woman dressed similarly to a jester, with a spandex covering her hair with small horns at the top.

Swallowing thickly, I hold her gaze as she stares at me. There’s a curiosity there that’s flipping my stomach. My limbs itch to move and hide from the predator she clearly is.

The corners of her lips slowly curl up, giving me a closed mouthed smile, then she brings up her other hand and shoves something deep into the side of Peter’s neck.

His eyes flare wide, the whites of them so similar to the shade she’s painted that the thought weirdly sticks in my mind. Peter’s throat bobs, his nostrils flare, then dark red liquid spills from his lips.

The more he tries to swallow, the more it seeps out, slicking down his chin and disappearing into his black knitted jumper.

Her arm flashes, and she whips out the instrument from his neck and steps back. Horror crashes through me, and I flinch as blood flows from the wound, joining the rest of the life force leaving his body.

There’s just so much.

She steps around him; her body slinks artfully, and she tips her head to the side, still watching me. Every part of her body, bar her face, is covered by her bodysuit. Each step she makes is utterly, completely silent until she stops beside me. Crouching down, she reaches out a finger and trails it around my parted mouth. Quickly snapping it shut, my muscles tense, trembling in anticipation of how she’s going to take my life.