Page 90 of Satan's Spawn
I bite so hard on my inner cheek the warm, metallic taste of blood mixes with saliva inside my mouth. “Good-bye Crayton.” I turn to walk away, but am devoured by his ungodly frame and slammed face first into the wall. Crayton speaks, and I can feel his voice everywhere, down to the tingles in the tips of my toes.
“What makes you think you’re allowed to finger fuck yourself to me without my consent?”
Everything: from Crayton’s hips pressing into my back, to the wisps of his breath in my ear has those undeniable flutters returning with a vengeance.
“Tsk tsk, Little Ghost.” My cheek is smashed against the wall as he reaches for my cross, fiddling lazily with it. “What would your God think?”
“Don’t talk to me about God you sick piece of shit.”
“Oh, no need for that, God abandoned me a long time ago.” Crayton’s hands slap against the wall, right before pushing himself off me.
“There won’t be any talking at all, actually. In fact, you’ll be doing the exact opposite.”
I turn to find him holding his phone again, typing something into it.
“So, you’re what? Going to make me shut up?”
“Among other things.”
Crayton is still under the influence of this warped sense of reality. As if I will bend to his will because he says so.
“Oh yeah? And how, pray tell, do you expect to do that?”
“Well, first, it starts by making you run.” That knife appears again, straight out of his pocket but this time there’s nothing enticing about it. The devoid of life look in Crayton’s eye is not only uninterpretable, but I’m pretty sure that’s dried blood I see on the weapon.
This time I know it’s not mine.
My hands rise in defense, as if being approached by a wild animal. “Crayton, who’s blood is that?” I ask through a terrified breath, eyeing the red tinged metal.
“You really want to find out?”
There isn’t a question whether the answer is no. If Crayton did something to another person at this party, even Felix, I do not want to be considered an accomplice. What I need to do is get the hell away from Crayton, find my friends, including Felix, and get as far away from this place as possible.
“I’m feeling generous.” Crayton wipes the knife clean on his shirt. “Even though I’m aware of how fast you can run, I’ll still give you a head start.”
Jesus Christ hehasbeen watching me during my runs, I wasn’t crazy.
I would be right now if I stayed in this room with him.
Fuck pride, I can survive without it. Unlike my carotid artery.
Crayton’s amused grin is the last thing I see before spinning on my heels toward the door, swinging it open and flying across the hall and down the steps as fast as I can.
I scan the house for my friends while sprinting, deciding they’re safer wherever the heck they are since it’s not with Crayton.
The foyer is packed with people, and I skate between them, not shocked at all that no one bats an eye to a distressed female running desperately for her life.
Luckily for me, the front door is open because I’m sure that would scratch at least six seconds off my time clock. I cross the threshold, skip down the steps and reach the driveway, where my feet instantly heat from the sweltering ground.
I spot Crayton turning a corner of the house from my peripheral, stalking toward me like a madman on a mission. I don’t know how he got outside, but however the hell he managed it didn’t even cause him to break a sweat.
There’s not a pant or any sign of exertion as he closes the distance, yet another humanly function that seems to be solely for us meremortals.
The driveway is empty of people, because God forbid anyone would decide to leave this death trap party early. So, once again, it’ll be this female David against the angry Goliath.
I dodge between two cars, and Crayton matches my movements on each side, fast enough to block any way my bare feet try to turn.
Finally, as if having enough of our little cat and mouse game, he charges for me and I stumble trying to run, giving him advantage to capture me.
