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Description
She pushed herself back, gritting her teeth at the sudden spasm of pain from her back. Her only weapon was lying broken and discarded amongst the trash on the ground, out of reach. He cocked his head at her and smiled wickedly. She tried to retreat, but her back met with the alley wall. Neon signs shone brightly not meters away, in the open street. It was now night and it was beginning to rain. “C’mon now doll, give it a rest. At least have the sense to admit when you’re beaten.” The rain pattered down filling pot holes and upturned garbage lids with water. She spat out blood, apparently she had bitten her tongue when she had fallen. “Oh don’t get too cocky” she coughed, spitting out more blood. The rain came heavier now drumming out a steady beat on the pavement. He ignored her comment and stepped closer “Enough of this, you’re looking tired and bloody and I’m becoming annoyed and impatient.” With each word he came closer, and now he stood but inches away. He was tall, much taller than her. She only stood at five foot seven, while she was sure he was nearly a foot taller. He was thin too, but muscled. He was one of those guys that you didn’t think of as strong until he broke your nose for staring at him too long. His hand came up and she flinched away, thinking that he was going to hit her. He looked down, brows furrowed, violet eyes curious. “What a scared little mouse.” He traced her jaw line with his fingers, she jerked away. “What? Too cold?” He chuckled but stepped back, suddenly his shoulders began to slim and his hair darkened. Soon the boy in the black coat was standing in front of her. He smirked, cocking his head at her again, the only thing that gave away who the thing before her really was. She stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry, in mockery of his charades. His grin widened, displaying perfectly pointed teeth. He proffered an open hand “Trich, it’s me, Kier.” The thing that was most definitely not Kieron sneered at her, as her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground. She grimaced as a pounding flood of memories began to bombard her. He would do that, wouldn’t he. Just to taunt her, to see how much it took to break her already fragile mind. Cars were passing by and headlights illuminated the back of the alley and danced across the blade of her stolen cargo, the sword. That damned sword, yet another reminder of that inescapable “before”.

The very first time that she had ever seen him was on a Thursday afternoon, in fall. The midday sun was bright, but huge high topped nimbus cumulous clouds scuttled across the sky, eager to blot it out. The wind that day was strong, and leaves whipped around in whirlwinds on the sidewalk. She had stopped by a box; the front said “Free to a good home”. Someone had just left a box full of puppies on the sidewalk. She bent down, and picked up one of the furrier ones. They were most certainly mutts, probably a cross between a husky and a German shepherd. She was contemplating on keeping one, when a boy came out of nowhere and scooped up the whole box of whimpering puppies. He paused and looked over at her curiously. When the only thing she could do was stand there looking confused, he plucked the puppy from her hands and strolled off down the street. She had chased after him, not because of the puppies, but more out of curiosity.

She remembered his face very well, dark spiky hair and eyes that slanted slightly upwards, bright blue like robins eggs, and speckled with brown.

She remembered the day that he died quiet vividly too, or rather the night. However hard she had tried to forget it, she could not. He had run into a burning building, to save a little girl. He wasn’t able to get out in time, the building collapsed, killing him and her. They never found his body. Quiet ironic really, that he would die in the fire that sent so many other souls howling into the night.

Description
She pushed herself back, gritting her teeth at the sudden spasm of pain from her back. Her only weapon was lying broken and discarded amongst the trash on the ground, out of reach. He cocked his head at her and smiled wickedly. She tried to retreat, but her back met with the alley wall. Neon signs shone brightly not meters away, in the open street. It was now night and it was beginning to rain. “C’mon now doll, give it a rest. At least have the sense to admit when you’re beaten.” The rain pattered down filling pot holes and upturned garbage lids with water. She spat out blood, apparently she had bitten her tongue when she had fallen. “Oh don’t get too cocky” she coughed, spitting out more blood. The rain came heavier now drumming out a steady beat on the pavement. He ignored her comment and stepped closer “Enough of this, you’re looking tired and bloody and I’m becoming annoyed and impatient.” With each word he came closer, and now he stood but inches away. He was tall, much taller than her. She only stood at five foot seven, while she was sure he was nearly a foot taller. He was thin too, but muscled. He was one of those guys that you didn’t think of as strong until he broke your nose for staring at him too long. His hand came up and she flinched away, thinking that he was going to hit her. He looked down, brows furrowed, violet eyes curious. “What a scared little mouse.” He traced her jaw line with his fingers, she jerked away. “What? Too cold?” He chuckled but stepped back, suddenly his shoulders began to slim and his hair darkened. Soon the boy in the black coat was standing in front of her. He smirked, cocking his head at her again, the only thing that gave away who the thing before her really was. She stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry, in mockery of his charades. His grin widened, displaying perfectly pointed teeth. He proffered an open hand “Trich, it’s me, Kier.” The thing that was most definitely not Kieron sneered at her, as her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground. She grimaced as a pounding flood of memories began to bombard her. He would do that, wouldn’t he. Just to taunt her, to see how much it took to break her already fragile mind. Cars were passing by and headlights illuminated the back of the alley and danced across the blade of her stolen cargo, the sword. That damned sword, yet another reminder of that inescapable “before”.

The very first time that she had ever seen him was on a Thursday afternoon, in fall. The midday sun was bright, but huge high topped nimbus cumulous clouds scuttled across the sky, eager to blot it out. The wind that day was strong, and leaves whipped around in whirlwinds on the sidewalk. She had stopped by a box; the front said “Free to a good home”. Someone had just left a box full of puppies on the sidewalk. She bent down, and picked up one of the furrier ones. They were most certainly mutts, probably a cross between a husky and a German shepherd. She was contemplating on keeping one, when a boy came out of nowhere and scooped up the whole box of whimpering puppies. He paused and looked over at her curiously. When the only thing she could do was stand there looking confused, he plucked the puppy from her hands and strolled off down the street. She had chased after him, not because of the puppies, but more out of curiosity.

She remembered his face very well, dark spiky hair and eyes that slanted slightly upwards, bright blue like robins eggs, and speckled with brown.

She remembered the day that he died quiet vividly too, or rather the night. However hard she had tried to forget it, she could not. He had run into a burning building, to save a little girl. He wasn’t able to get out in time, the building collapsed, killing him and her. They never found his body. Quiet ironic really, that he would die in the fire that sent so many other souls howling into the night.