Bloodied Screams [Micah]

[Grey (DELETED 5068)]

I am spoiled rotten.

The only thing that I have learned from the past is that history repeats itself. I was a fool to think that I could change the course of someone else’s life and be happy with the first man that showed me attention and pleasure.

I should have known better. My mother always told me that no one in this world could love me. I was a waste of time. I was a waste of breath.

Days would go by and I’d finally tell her I was hungry. I can remember the look on her face, the years of nicotine running deep in the creases by her mouth when she’d snare at me and wave her half empty bottle of whiskey in my direction.

Thoughtless.

Careless.

Stupid.

*****.

Go get a ******* job.

I was eight. Then, I was ten. Then, I was twelve. I shoveled the sparse snow in the winter. I cut grass. I can remember the feeling of the hot, sticky sun on my back and the way the cool girls would sashay down the street, laughing and pointing their fingers at me.

There is nothing wrong with working for a living. Hard, decent work is what my father had often said to me endless nights in the family garage. I can remember the look in the eyes of my father, so kind and loving. He never gave anything up for me, but I remembered talk of the football scholarship and the offering of coaching jobs and the polite phone calls that would end in a ‘Thank you, but I’ve a daughter to raise here.’


BEEEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP


Grey inhaled. It was the smell of the nook of the alley that brought her back to her current state. Panting, the sudden exhale rushed through her system. The blackouts were coming more frequently. She was waking up next to dead bodies and covered in blood. The knife was still gripped tight in one hand, knuckles white underneath the smears of red.

The blood was so thick on her skin, that Grey hadn’t even realized where her clothes ended and her skin began. The cuff of the hoodie she had pilfered from the hall closet was shoved up - forearms exposed. She leaned back, pushing the body away from her. She shoved the denim clad cadaver as far away as she could push dead weight.

Her pale face was covered in blood, splatters on her flesh that made her look like a mad scientist instead of the murderer she was slowly becoming. The man’s face was contorted into a now silent scream. She had cut him, filleted him open. Grey took in her handy work, muscle and bones broke and that sternum ripped out. The organs within the man’s chest were no longer recognizable. Two… Four…. Six…. Holes in his neck. Four on the right side and two on the left side and all Grey’s body could do was absorb the nourishment he had provided her with prior to that death.

Tattoos climbed his neck, not even Grey could distinguish them in the loss of blood. His head and been bent at an unnatural angle now, the mechanic could see.

She had been so hungry.

She just remembered falling asleep inside the front room of the farmhouse. She had laid down, cold after just getting home from work. What time was it?

Bloodied hands dropped the knife. It clattered next to her on the cement when she wiped as much blood as she could upon the denim of her own jeans and struggled for that new iPhone.


It was white. Always white. Pure. Clean.

The red smeared over the screen as she choked back a strangled gasp.

Five … Five in the morning.

The sun would be up soon. She had no idea where she even was.

What the hell was wrong with her?


[Text] Micah.

[Micah]

The text came at the worst possible time.

Micah had let himself into the hotel room hours before and made himself comfortable in a chair next to the bed. The occupant of the bed never stirred, never noticed his presence and continued to sleep undisturbed. For now.

Dr. Curtis Truman was going to regret remaining in Harper Rock. His presence was like a thorn in the killer’s side. After he’d made sure the final gift was delivered Micah had attempted to move on with his life and make plans for the inevitable confrontation but he couldn’t concentrate. Knowing that the doctor that had ruined so much of his childhood was walking around, breathing, living his life didn’t sit well with the killer. He wanted nothing more than to push ahead with his plans and end the game, but acting before the time was right could spoil everything. So, he’d found a new game to play called Watch Truman Sleep.

If Vel knew what he was doing in his downtime she’d probably forcibly check him into Doc’s asylum. What he was doing wasn’t normal, and he’d never been one to allow the actions of another to consume his every thought in such a way before. But this was personal, and he was going to make sure that Truman knew just how personal it was before Micah ended his life.

The killer had been sitting there in his chair, contemplating how best to make his presence known when his phone went off. Cursing, Micah fumbled around trying to get it out of his pocket as fast as possible to silence the damn thing but it was too late. Truman sat up and looked around wildly and Micah barely managed to summon the shadows to hide his body before being discovered. The doctor’s gaze landed on the chair he was sitting in, noticing at once that it was out of place. The covers were pushed back and the doctor got out of bed slowly. Micah held his breath, hoping against all odds that he wouldn’t be discovered.

“I know you’re there asshole. Just ******* show yourself.”

The killer had been slowly rising out of his chair to make a quick getaway when Truman spoke. His teeth sank into the inside of his cheek. Don’t speak. Don’t say a ******* word Micah. Don’t let him get in your head. He had to keep repeating those words to himself as he edged towards the door, listening to Truman rant about how he wasn’t afraid and how much of a coward he was for staying hidden. The coward comment had Micah stopping dead in his tracks. Even though he was hidden he couldn’t resist getting a parting shot off at the good doctor. His fingers closed around the handle of a letter opener lying on the table by the door. Just as he started to turn the handle he whipped the letter opener at the doctor, watching as it embedded itself into the wall. Truman turned in the opposite direction and Micah took advantage of the distraction to yank the door open and leave.

The frigid early morning air smacked him in the face as soon as he stepped outside. That had been way too close. He wasn’t ready to end the game yet. Next time, he’d have to be more careful and not allow such a rookie mistake to blow his cover, besides the doctor was still way too cocky. Micah wanted him cowering for the big event. Speaking of discoveries...he checked his phone and found a text waiting from Grey. Just one word - his name. What the ****? It had been a few weeks since he’d seen Grey, and she hadn’t spoken then so why was she contacting him now? Only one way to find out.

-text- Grey?

[Grey (DELETED 5068)]

It was only Micah that Grey trusted now. Funny, looking back... How relationships bloom, evolve, and destruct. Grey Fforde had been kicked out of the welcomed place Micah Andras once had for her only for the two to come face to face and hash out their differences when the hot-headed mechanic had found herself on his **** list.

Grey had been fierce in her protection of her fiance, only to find herself at fault for the misgivings that had been placed at her feet and in her heart. Once she had been lurched from the world of the living to the slumbering crypt of the dead to function underneath the light of the moon; Grey's thoughts were endless in wonder. She had changed. She was no longer that smiling, care-free woman who wished to keep to herself and build up her bank account. No, she was a slave to it. Perhaps she didn't stick up for her own wants. Perhaps she didn't tell Jesse that going into business together might not have been the best idea.

Her attachment to the self-destructive man had bordered on unhealthy and Grey vowed never to need someone again in that kind of capacity that they'd turn bitter over her uncertainty. Someone could tell Grey a million times that she was beautiful, but in the end she would still question them that million and one with an arch of her brow and teeth biting into her lower lip. It was how she was. It was who she was. How could she fight when she didn't know what she was fighting for?

But, life wasn't about beauty. Life was about surviving. And she never should have allowed herself the belief that someone could love her. Love was lost. Love was crushed. Love was a ridiculous notion. She had been pawned off onto Micah, a man that she now knew took in a plethora of misfits and seemed to wrangle them all together into a family. He was good at that. He found her, after all, in the sewer barely alive when Grey couldn't decipher the death that she wanted versus the humiliation that she felt. Micah tried.

No, he was great at that. He made each member of his family feel welcomed and invited, even if that meant he had to stab their tongues when one of them got out of line.

He was the only one she was allowing in at the moment. He was the only one that Grey felt as if he wouldn't intentionally break her.

Who could she trust? Who did she trust?

The mechanic had long since denied herself the comfort of Fforde. It was, as if in her mind, that the family that once was her own was no longer open to her. Sure, she had sent support to a few of the younger fledgling members. She felt, that if she could not support them verbally, then why not give them a few thousand dollars to see if they could survive in this hellish world?

She had went back to Larch Court once. If anything, that place was where she felt the safest of all the Fforde homes. Grey shook her head, the wisps of her hair getting stuck in the blood that was cooling upon her face. She didn't need anything from her Sire. She didn't want anything from the woman that tarnished him.

**** them both, Grey smirked at the corpse. The chest of that man had been broken in a fit of her rage.

Squeezing her eyes tightly together, those smeared thumbs of hers gave a response to the only man she let reasonably close:

[Text] Killed someone. I don't know where I am. Or who it is. I don't... remember doing it.

[Micah]

While he waited for Grey to respond Micah took the time to get in out of the cold. He didn’t go back to the Eyrie but rather ducked into Adrenaline just inside Honeymead Market. It was deserted as he had expected it to be. After a long discussion with his wife Micah had decided to sell the shop in Honeymead. It didn’t draw the traffic that Masterpiece did, and that was where Micah had spent most of his free time before he decided to take a step back. There was no point in keeping them both, so he had given the employees the option to move to Masterpiece or to move on to other things.

Every last one of them had opted to take the offer to work for him at Masterpiece.

It turned out to be an excellent arrangement. With Guns out of commission thanks to Satine and Micah himself taking a step back it left room for new employees. The artists that had made the transition from Adrenaline to Masterpiece were settling in nicely, as if they’d always been part of the well oiled machine that the shop was. Business was up and Micah and his wife couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. He missed it, but it opened up so many other possibilities for him. Had he still be working at the shop he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the mind games he was currently playing.

Before he could even sit in one of the chairs the phone in his pocket went off and he pulled the device out to read the received text from Grey. ****. What he read wasn’t what he had expected to come from her at all. She’d finally hit rock bottom. The ordeal that she had gone through with her ex fiance had finally pulled her under and she had allowed herself to drown in the pain. Micah had thought she was starting to heal, that she was starting to get over the betrayal of finding out she’d been cheated on by the one person who was supposed to love and care for her for the rest of her life. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

To make matters worse she didn’t even know where she was. She could be out in the middle of nowhere, she could be in a busy part of the city, she could have chosen a more secluded area….the possibilities were endless and he had absolutely no way to pinpoint her location. He wasn’t her sire so he couldn’t use a ritual to find her. He had no powers that would aid him in finding her and he wouldn’t go to Vel. This whole thing would only hinder any progress made between Vel and Grey and he refused to do make that already tense situation worse.

He was completely on his own.

Before he left the shop he sent Grey a text, hoping that she’d be able to provide him with a few visual details. If her descriptions were clear enough and he was familiar with the area there was a possibility that Micah would be able to know enough about the area to find her. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late and she hadn’t been seen. If she had that was a whole other slew of complications neither of them needed.

-Text- Can you describe your surroundings so I have a general idea of where to find you?