Somebody is trying to kill me...?

Miki
Somebody Is Trying To Kill Me?
‘Mother said this was a vacation, to clear my head. I’m no fool.’ A newspaper held up straight in her face crumpling at its sides. Her grip was giving off pressure but pressure was only mere restraint from doing what she really wanted to do, to carry out. Her desire was to tear the stupid newspaper to shreds and to crush to the arrogant jerks who wrote this garbage about her. Trash was only an understatement.
Lighting up a cigarette, smoothly inhaling the tobacco she smirked. ‘They say I’m ill-mannered with no sense of taste when it comes to estate,’ her thoughts mimicked from the article. She chuckled as if it were some private joke; if only the joke was private instead of floating around the globe mocking her in the papers. How she’d love to get her hands on just one of those reporters now…
‘Why do the papers have to be made by a bunch of streetwalkers who know absolutely nothing of the real world? They’re just pointing me out because my type of fun isn’t lipstick and slumber parties. Idiots.’ Pieces of the finely rolled tobacco were dashed onto the ash tray sitting beside her; she had a feeling she was becoming addicted, but exactly who cared?
She exhaled the volatized nicotine, a slight cough escaping her lips. Her eyes burned through the paper as if igniting like her smoke. ‘The only reason I’m here is because of is because of this bull. Akira, am I really that embarrassing?’ The thought was more like a serious question than something intended to be funny… How amusing.



They’d arrived safely, if anything, fatigued from boredom. Noon had revealed itself in the colored sun but the thought of dusk remained in her mind as she remembered Tokyo. “Flight 070785 from Honshu to Okinawa, arrived,” the announcer’s voice echoed through the bustling halls.
Miki retrieved her luggage and walked soundlessly to the main gate. “I thought they were sending me an escort,” she muttered, “These people are ludicrous.” “Miss Dai!” She looked coolly over her shoulder to see an overly happy guy waving furiously in her direction.
“I ask for an escort and I get saddled with a moron,” she insulted, “Why is it with all my money, I still managed to get ripped off?” The cheery man strolled over to her and grinned. Was he mentally challenged? She wondered, hadn’t heard of her reputation? “Are you Miki Dai?” He was practically singing her name and it sickened her to the stomach; what planet did he come off of? “Depends who’s asking,” was her hard reply.
“The hotel sent me, I’m your escort.” “Figures,” she sighed, “it can’t get any better than this.” “Let me get that for you.” He modestly leaned down and swept up her bags making other people raise their eyebrows in the process. She was an embarrassment? Miki marched swiftly to the parking lot not looking back once at him; idiot.


“You’re gonna love Naha! As the largest of Japan\'s Ryukyu Islands, Okinawa is the most jammed of the Okinawa island group. The island is fast becoming a tourist attraction for Japanese because of its rich history, natural beauty, and warm climate. The first International Ocean Exposition was held on the island in 1975 not to mention the…” it almost seemed endless to the pause of his rambling.
Why should she care how successful Naha is; first off, it has nothing on Tokyo and she didn’t want to stuck here anyway. Whoever would have had to be more insanely jolly than this guy. God… her life stunk more than manure and that was more pathetic than this guy’s taste in a tourist attraction.
A cool breeze gusted through her window and uplifted her façade—this would be ever so enjoyable if she weren’t such a failure in this lifetime. The devaluing thought made her snap out of her current reverie and into the ramblings of a certain escort.
“…. The Expo Memorial Park, Sogenji Temple, and Naminoue Shrine are popular tourist sites. Okinawa University and the University of the Ryukyus are the major institutions of higher learning. Don’t you find that interesting? I, personally have friends at the national museum of Okinawa’s history, you should check it out.” Did this guy have an off switch or some kind of recording playing? If she were this interested in such things he said, she would have enrolled herself in some academy. Jeez.
“I’ll pass on that,” was her casual reply, “Maybe later on when I get more settled.” The guide smiled widely at her which sent some shivers up and down her spine. “Okay,” was his response. It was as if he were a clown with a smile pasted on him. If only he was a mime, but even then, Miki would still feel weird. Uneasiness lingered in the air of the car and Miki found herself leaning into the breeze of the window to clear her lungs of it.
She closed her eyes, blinded to black and let herself be persuaded to give into the breeze. If only everyone in the world could see the images behind her eyelids, maybe the papers wouldn’t have landed her here and maybe her father would still be alive.
But by the look of everything God must have had some vendetta against her and the only thing she could do was resume in being in this hellhole of a world… A cruel world indeed. A world that had labeled her a vestal, and laughed at her opinionative nature because of it.
Suddenly, a jabbing bounce awoke her from her windy thoughts and on impulse, she jumped forward. “What was that?” she inquired madly. “I thought I might take you on a scenic ride of the island to the hotel, it’s your first time here, right?” Miki couldn’t interpret any of this guy’s attitude. It was either a matter of him being mentally insanely happy or just very, very delusional. He manages to ramble on and on while the momentum of speed picks up to the hotel and he sees to it he almost sends the car flying to stop for a tour. Perfect, a schizophrenic loony guide, money is no problem.
“That was a helluva stop for a goddamned tour,” she snarled, “God, don’t you have anything else to think about than the sights of this island?” “Just making sure you’re okay with everything,” he laughed merrily. Delusional nitwit was an understatement. “Whatever,” was her cool reply, “Tour me all day for all I care, just don’t go insane in the process.” He laughed again, “Perfect, I’ll be back with the map and we can start!”
“A map? What do you need a map for?” “To find my way along the path, silly,” he answered, “it’ll only take a second, I’ll run down to my friend’s place and grab one, right up the road.” Before she could halt him, he was out the door in one swift motion and down the road. “You’re leaving? Hey, wait!” She opened her door to find him in a cloud of smoke headed down the grassy path; didn’t he understand English? “Hey, I’ve got a map on my cell phone!” she called, but her call was futile for he had run as if he’d disappeared.
“Damn it.” She slumped against the car door and moaned miserably. Forced to wait and be patient until Mr. Sunshine Okinawa came back with a map he could have easily seen on her cell phone. How ironic for someone like her to end up like this. Labeled an embarrassment to her family, city and God himself. A rebellious chick who was originally branded an unbroken lawless teen and named an obvious Carnal Kitten.
Now just a sinful wannabe empathetically in someone else’s shoes who embarrassed anyone just being present. Branded to hold the future of a nun and to remain pristine for the most part not to mention no solution. If she changed her future she would automatically be labeled a vice girl who was savaged. Ridiculous how the papers worked these days.
Miki erased the thoughts of regret from her head and focussed on the present now. She had no time for these little tourist moments, all she wanted to do was meet Yuka at the hotel and go to sleep. Possibly to never awaken or to awaken in someone else’s shoes. Her heel tapped impatiently on the grassy surface, her lips curved into a cynical pout, and the mere portrait of her spelt risqué all over it.
How could the newspapers ever mess with her? How could anyone? If she knew that she wouldn’t be here and Akira would have probably died from some sort of shock. That was the irony of her, humorous things that sounded immoral and vulgar impulses to carry them out. Hello, Naha City, the morale has arrived. If only she were at the hotel to say that.
“Damn, what’s taking that moron so long? Don’t tell me he got lost.” Now all smugness and morale eluded her and she stood alone dazing into the forest green of the parking space. How long had he been gone and how long had she been standing there? God wouldn’t let time on her side either; then what would he let on? “Hey! Whoever the hell you are! Move it! I’ve got better things to do!”
An eerie and awkward silence was her only call back and she remained standing. “Hey!” she yelled taking a few steps, “Come on!” Still no response. Impatience streaked its way to her surface and pushed her to call again. “I’m in no mood for games, moron! Get your sorry butt over here!” Nothing. No laughs, no pasted smile, no Okinawa attraction crap, just nothing. “Hey? Are you…there?”
She seemed to be speaking with the utter stillness of the trees surrounding her. The escort was nowhere to be seen or heard, like an occult evanescence from something unexplained. Where exactly was he and what was taking his so long? Miki was starting to feel shaky, something totally alienated to her. He was nowhere in sight or heard of.
Should she call the hotel, the police, 911…or stay put and wait calmly in the car where he’d left her like a normal sane person? Angry cerise blood found its way to her cheeks and her physique had abruptly changed to resuming her rear on the seat. How foolish she had been to even worry, to even assume the worst. Akira really did leave an impression, to make her so naïve she’d think something serious was happening. True motherly love was what she’d called it and true maternal appearances was all what it was.
Miki looked out again only to be greeted by the deafening hush of the forest; could that guy really be in danger? No, of course not. Such a ridiculous thought… if only it were a thought for what followed it was not meant to happen. Rustling, faint stirring rustling. Its setting was whispering in hushed tones, hushed voices. Maybe leaves, maybe animals…maybe something else as well. She had to investigate.
“Who’s there?” The rustling ceased along with Miki’s heartbeat. She turned around to check behind herself; was it something serious? “This isn’t funny,” she declared for her ears, “this is just a load I don’t need to be worrying about and apparently very funny to that guy.” Vehemence was only a tenth of what she was feeling and a tenth was yet another exaggeration for her part. “When that sorry excuse for a tour guide comes out, I swear I’ll make him spit out the things I hate about this crappy island.
“I’ll chew him up and spit him out and then I’ll tear his ass apart like a stupid China doll.” Again there was that cool breeze that massaged her face and now her entire body. If only everything could just blot out. If only she could go back to Tokyo. If only she could just… She sighed.
Gravity as well of her now keen sense of balance had left her, and she was about to fall on her knees. Maybe if she gave into the sweet aroma of the wind she could be at peace. But at peace with what? She’d remember to find the answer as soon as she found peace with her mind.
Her vision was to be seen through partly closed eyelids and her comfort was to felt on the grassy base of where she stood. It was too late to be angry, too late to promise her guide absolute regret, just early enough to give into her lack of balance. Before she could make any physical protest, faintness had claimed her and she began to go down. Vertigo had overtaken her.
All of a sudden, something or someone vaulted over her head. Too fast to see or to identify, too fast to interrogate or chase. Too slow to be lightning, too slow be an animal with its shape. A person? But who…and why? The reason did not matter for they had soon landed standing in full view before her only to be slid down to size—she had collapsed into their arms.
Miki was bewildered to what was going; what was happening? Large protective arms engulfed her and provided her warmth. “Mmm…” was her muffled reply to this sheltering stranger. The aroma still lingered in her lungs but was blocked out by his heat. Her face was buried in his chest, buried deep in him. Warmth was all that she felt and at that second, she remembered the answer to her previous question.
What was she to find peace with? Her eyes flared, as she answered. To find the peace of killing someone dead! She looked up to meet the eyes of a stranger. As well as the shine of their blade…



Instantly, she darted back from him. Who was this dark stranger, this guy who had just now become her afresh hero? His eyes, his chest, his body—he no longer conveyed such warmth. “W-Who the hell are you? And what the hell just happened here?” Miki stared at him with full eyes; like sepia orbs of confusion.
The dark fellow simply arose from his position and coolly shrugged it off. “I expected a ‘thank you’, not an interrogation,” was his calm answer. “I don’t thank strangers,” she fronted, “And just who the hell do you think you are?” A smirk played on his lips making every aspect of him imply brazen in his appearance. He thought he was superior, did he? Impudence blazed within her at the thought.
“Answer me, you retard!” The man merely stood there, unruffled, cool, he shook his head in disbelief and snickered. Smugness turned into conceit as a chuckle escaped him. “What’s so damn funny!?” she inquired angrily.
Thankful was anything but that Miki should feel; she felt nothing but confusion. Questions were swarming her mind as she gazed upon him. Why should she thank him for nothing? Why was he so damn confident? Who was he? And where the heck was that guide of hers? Could he have…taken care of him? This dark handsome stranger had all the answers and curiosity was suffocating her.
Miki opened her mouth to speak, to pour out all of her questions, but was stopped as he had abruptly started to talk. “Miss Maiden Miki, is it?” was his question. “What?” He was asking her for gratitude without even explaining why, implying his ego and now asking her questions about her identity? The tables had turned swiftly.
“The girl from Tokyo,” he stated letting his eyes roam her, “Shipped off here to stay quiet.” “You’ll be staying six-feet-under in a second if you don’t—” Cut off. “Feisty, are we? I wouldn’t blame anyone for sending you out. Such an ungrateful spoiled brat.” Now it was her turn to cut in. “Shut up! I’m not the one holding the blade, you freak!” Sternness now occupied his face over ego and he raised his dagger.
“My points exactly.” Darkly, he mounted himself in her direction, aiming to slice her head clean off. Miki could hardly reply as she dodged frantically away from his target space. A scream escaped her lips as she leaped for the ground as the cold steel pierced her.
She landed on the ground with a thud and lifelessly moaned in pain. Miki was drowning in her own blood and would give anything to reach the surface of it. He sauntered over to her and peered down at her soon-to-be corpse. Boredom was written all over his face and he emphasized it with a hard kick to her injury.
In agony, she cried out in pain. “Ahh!” He simply sagged his shoulders at her and spat to the side in disapproval. “Pathetic,” he muttered, “Disappointing and pathetic.” Weakness coursed through her entire body but the feeling of defeat was the most that burned. More than the pain, more than the insults, more than anything.
“Damn it,” she cursed hoarsely. The pain in her thigh was overwhelming, almost unheard of to her. He drank in the sight of her: down, agonized, struggling for the balance to stand—a taste that was sickly sweet. Her anguish and hurt was nothing but an amusement to him, all the reason to finish the fun. He loomed over her, expressionless and daring her to fight back, to lose. Miki could only do so much as challenge him; if only her efforts weren’t so futile.
Her thigh was on fire, paralyzed. How she wished to be disabled before this happened so she wouldn’t be in such misery, but the reality was she felt her legs, the pain. She was no longer in a fantasy world and her pain was actual proof this was no dream. In this harsh, frigid reality, she was Miki Dai. Persistence was only too good in her traits… and this stranger wanted it so.
In a pathetic attempt to rise, she pushed her self with her other limbs—the limbs that had yet to go numb anyway. Failing miserably, she tripped on a limp to prolong her fall; if only she weren’t so pitiful!
Icy hands grabbed her from behind and poised her weight on their body. He was helping her…again? This dark stranger held mystery in his description, for what was his motive for seeking her death at his dagger? “You’re pathetic,” he said lowly to her, “Honestly pathetic.” “And you’re sick!” she shot back angrily. She struggled to free herself from his grasp, Miki would rather taste dirt than be at the mercy of this freak. How could he have saved her?
Miki flung her arms and drove herself away from him. As result, he merely chuckled. “You sick bastard!” she yelled, “I’ll kill you!” “I wouldn’t be making threats in your position, Miss Dai,” was his smug reply. She continued to futility struggle and ended up heated and breathless in his arms. “Given up so easily?” he mused, “Easy or not, your attempts to escape were entertaining.” “Damn you!” she cursed crisply. Hatred pulsated with the friction between them; it was disgusting.
He laughed and frankly thrusted her to a nearby tree to look for support. Miki clutched the tree trunk as if for dear life and panted. Effortlessly he made his way to her: dagger in hand, a blank face, the eagerness to end what he had started. Miki’s heart was already pumping her chest out to flee.
He turned her entire body around. Now face to face with her soon-to-be killer, she growled. A twisted smile was his only counter to it and he smirked once again. The blade of his dagger hung only inches away from her face waiting to strike. Fear revealed itself in her eyes and she looked him straight in the eye. “Any last requests?” he called for cruelly. Surrendering to the ache of her leg, she gave way to drop to the ground again. Coming to it, he pulled her leg up to his. Was he going to…
“Such a shame,” he cooed mocking her, “You could’ve been some use to me.” Crying out, she stiffened herself up for more agonizing taunts—would this torture ever end? “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so hot,” he scoffed sadistically. His hands were suddenly travelling all over her, teasing her. An impassioned moan was his answer from her. “S-stop,” she begged, “Don’t…” “Don’t what?” he asked tormenting her, “Make those headlines lies? Experience your carnal knowledge?” Licking his lips, he threw a hot-blooded look at her.
Drowning in unwanted heat, she choked out her last request for him to hear. “Just finish it,” she croaked. Begging for mercy or persisting for her freedom would only make her appear even more pathetic and for her father’s sake, she’d like to die with some dignity and self-respect.
All of a sudden, he pulled away, leaving her to sink to the ground. Tucking his dagger in the side pocket of his coat he said, “You really are pathetic. You take the fun out of everything.” Fun!? “No screaming, no protests, nada. You want to die? Well, I don’t feel like it.” His actions left her in a daze of confusion. “What?” she asked baffled, “You’re just leaving?”
Strutting off, he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t look so happy. Just because I’m sparing you now, doesn’t mean you won’t die later.” “Will you quit talking in riddles?” she asked helplessly, “What the hell are you talking about?” “Don’t get the wrong idea, now that I know you’re here, you may as well count yourself dead.” Widened sepias of confusion dominated her face; what was he saying?
“What are you saying?” she voiced, “That you’ll hunt me down? You’ve got another thing coming!” “Don’t push it, Miki,” he frigidly voiced, “I’m not usually in a good mood. Don’t take that tone with me.” Rage throbbed through her at his command. Her only desire was to hold that dagger of his, if only for a second, she’d show him who was pathetic… She’d make sure that he’d never ever laugh at her, or anyone, again.
“I’ll take whatever damn tone I want!” she bawled. “I see your mother didn’t teach you any class like the papers said,” was his easy reply, “I’m not surprised, I’ve been with you for only ten minutes and you still can’t watch your tongue.” “Shut up!” Dangerously out of control, she lunged herself at him full force with the intention of killing him. If only she intended to remember the pain in her leg and the gravitational pull of the universe. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have been in more pain on the ground pitifully in front of him at his knees.
“Did you intend to intimidate me? You failed miserably just like you intended stand.” He towered over her once again and raked his eyes over her body. Pathetic, helpless, alone, just begging to die—what more could any man ask for? He would luxuriate in the existence of her in chains, maybe rope? Anything that could ensure her defenseless. Who was the rebellious Miki Dai now? This girl, this child was nothing but a lie for her reputation and for that he wished her death for causing him such disappointment—after all this could prove to be quite amusing.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” Sneering maliciously, he stooped down to her and brushed a hand on her oozing thigh. Miki winced in pain at the sudden contact which made him raise his eyebrows. “Feisty but not tough? An unusual combination, eh?” “I’ll feisty you’re #@^,” she snarled, disgusted by his comments. How dare he? How dare anyone?
Her growl turned into a mere yelp as his blade was in her face yet again—the light of it threw back a shimmer in her eyes making her squint them. “I told you to watch your tone.” He made his point clear by sticking it even nearer into her face emitting another cry of fear from her lips.
“Now then,” he pouted, “Understood?” Draining the remaining strength of her limbs, she willed herself to take charge. A deafening slap echoed through the forest as she took action. Miki looked down to her nails…blood? Another gaze upon him told her what she had done. She’d stricken his face so harshly that her nails had left their mark as well as a trail of blood on his face.
In her power, less was more as a few more drops of blood trickled down his cheek. Damn. He did not flinch nor yell, nor reveal his blade again. He merely touched the side of his face and look down. Blood pattered onto his hand and she paused. The anxiety of his reaction hung in the air like an invisible mist. For a simple response she would get hacked up by his dagger by all means…but she wasn’t.
“Miki,” was all that escaped his lips. Alarmed, she flung her head up to face him expecting, anticipating the cold steel of his dagger in her soon enough. But instead she met his bloody finger making its way to her instead. Before she could protest, it was on her lips. “What the—?” Her sentence was cut off as he trailed it alongside the outline of her cheek and left her speechless.
Darkly, he leaned over and pulled her chin up to his and whispered… “I’ll kill you.” With that cryptic vow, he added, “I can see why someone would want to kill you as do I.” She snapped out of her current space and stared at him. “What?”
“That escort? You’re clueless and pathetic,” he mused, “Frankly, I’d love to be in shoes with the joy of slitting your throat…or was it stabbing you with a screw-driver?” “The hell are you on?” she shot back angered. “A shortcut, was it?” He effortlessly picked up her cell phone and showed it to her. “Not even close.” Miki’s mouth dropped open in horror as she looked at the newly dead end awaiting ahead. It wasn’t possible.
“No…” she said stunned, “You’re lying, you freak! Let me go!” “Lying? Is that why you nearly collapsed from fumes of poisonous gas? Or why your escort is missing? Pathetic child, you’re deluded.” She turned and slowly crawled to the car mumbling words of denial. “Just a sick joke from the media,” she rationalized. “To go so far as letting me slice off your leg? Humorous,” he replied.
Sepias lost between hatred and betrayal burned in his—it was a lie, a sick and monstrous lie. “You don’t believe me? Take a look for yourself.” He carelessly tossed a plastic card beside her hand. ‘ID?’ she thought confused. An image of a much more serious and hard tour guide greeted her eyes as well as a bold emblem beside it. EM, in navy block letters handwritten beside his picture. What did this mean. Scanning it, she read in italics Specialty: toolbox—currently occupied 0007798.
Occupied? What did that mean? “EM is an organization that takes care of its assignments, ‘specially’ if you get my drift.” He explained it darkly, uncaring, unfazed…did he not care for this knowledge? “W-What?” she croaked.
“You’re too young and stupid to comprehend,” he scoffed casually. He was acting as if they were talking about a random topic like a show, or a celebrity; was he that daft? He was talking as if it were simply advice or something useful to remember in life…but that her life was cut short and that was mentally impossible for her to get? Who could get that—this freak of nature?
“You’re not worth my time,” he shrugged headed into the bushes from where he came. “Like I said, my letting you live doesn’t mean a damn thing. You’ll probably be dead before morning.” With one last scoff, he disappeared into the remaining forest.
“NO!” she screamed pushing herself up to catch him. Limping as if for her life, she trailed after him. But her efforts proved they were in vain for he had vanished into the depths of land.
Miki remained there staring helplessly into the never-ending green of the area. Her heart leapt somersaults in her throat, her pulse at least over a hundred. Discovering that you were being hunted by not a delusional stranger, but an entire company and your only ticket to getting to your hotel. Things couldn’t get any better, could they?
The saddest thing of all was that dark, deranged stranger was the only one who knew anything about this. And he had just left her… he’d just left. Gone into the depths of god-knows-where… leaving her alone.



Pondering frantically, she limbered her way to the side of the car. What would she do? Who could help her now? The police would believe this was bogus let alone, she could hardly believe it herself. Her tour guide was yet to be seen and he’d laugh at the entire situation. And Akira was all the way on the other side of the country sinking yet another business deal, attending another luxurious party; fat good, she was.
She’d pace if her thigh didn’t ache as much, perhaps that would help her think. But what solution could there be for such a predicament? That guy was probably long gone and why would he help her? He was out to kill her in the first place. This was stupid, a lie made up because she had retaliated and scarred him. Of course it was. Then why did her heart nearly stop altogether when she saw someone fluidly come out of the other direction?
Relieved or terrified? Two things she could not decide when she saw him. Her tour guide had finally returned at long last and was panting furiously. Could this half-wit be her assassin? What were the chances of that, but what were the chances of this entire area being a route to a dead end as well?
“What took you so long?” she asking in a panic clutching the cellular mobile in her hand. “Sorry, my friend was out, could you believe it?” he answered feebly. “But I thought I heard you call out that you had a map… if that was the case, why’d you let me take off for another one?” A twisted smile lay on her lips as she replied.
“It’s really funny how you’ve got a lot of friends,” she countered, “You think you’re fooling me?” For her point she showed him her phone’s map. “Your sense of direction is really crappy and you manage to really know your shortcuts!” He merely looked at her, like she was the one insane. But then goofy surprise turned into sweet humor as he returned her face.
“I feel pretty silly feeling that I can fool you,” he said coldly, “in fact, I feel even sillier that I forgot to tell you to sit tight.” He what? She had forgotten everything but that question as well as breathing. The pain in her thigh was nothing compared to the pained confusion on her face as he took out a screw-driver. “Why don’t I give you a head start?” he asked coolly. Head start? The meaning of that was forgotten as she threw her cell phone at him and tore off as fast as her limps could take her.
“HELP!” she screamed furious, “SOMEBODY IS TRYING TO KILL ME! HELP!” No matter how loud she screamed, inside she knew that nobody could hear her. Not the police, not Akira, and definitely not that guy! The thought was diminished from her mind as she tripped into a tree.
On the ground yet again she wheezed. That guy, he was the only person who could help her now, but why would he? 1, he thought she was worthless and pathetic. 2, he tried to kill her too! 3, was that he had other things to do and the whole concept of him saving her was a trick question.
Footsteps stomped heavily onto the soil by her and she was once again looking in the face of the assassin. So it would end here and now. The pathetic thing she called her life and her beauty. Beauty would be of nothing as this killer would leave her here for dead. She could picture herself now.
Rotting along with anything that smelt her scent, maggots nesting themselves in a new home, and Akira finally taking a trip to the lawyer’s office and getting the approval to the rest of her father’s estate. Police cars and autopsies simply burying her without any effort. That stranger totally mutilating the remains with his dagger. How sickening and grotesque that sight would be.
Predicting her death would be nothing as she was too preoccupied with the assassin hanging over her grinning with his screw-driver by him. If only she could run, there were probably some cars on the freeway that could spot her and she could safely escape and request non-stop protection from the cops no matter how crazy it sounded. But she was hindered by the nonstop pangs in her leg and the pain itself would kill her even if by some miracle this assassin was overthrown.
With one last smirk, Miki’s last heartbeat, it would end. “Bye, girlie,” he smiled dazedly, “It was nice while it lasted.” Miki gave him a terrorized glance and panted. Nowhere to run, no one to hear her scream. All she could do was… “CHRIST!” And then as if there was a dark angel over her shoulder, her exclaimed prayer was answered, for it was him.
If only a glimpse, a flash, or a full eyeful, she caught sight of another shadow. A familiar trench coat flying in the momentary breeze, the trench coat of the dark stranger. Her savior once again! He had come to her rescue but what would he do afterwards and this EM group…what was his connection? Another agent on the goal of murdering her? His presence was truly just an interrogation on her part.
It was his like a cadaver warmth radiated from him and that only mattered. Dry ice on fire was the only thing running through her mind as he stood in front of her. He was her shield and that alone, the only thing standing between her and death. But if that were true, what was his dagger?
Interrogative personalities were cleansed as he spoke. “I see that your life does have some festivities,” he said to her hotly. Miki caught only a short shot of his blade’s flare before it danced into its slain, taking flight for its bloodstained massacre. The thought was enough to make one regurgitate and although merely enough to satisfy a tenth of a killer’s appetite.
“Who the hell are you!?” the assassin exclaimed in fury, “What are you doing here!?” “Who am I?” he mocked in an outrage. His blade soared forward awaiting his answer as well swirling in his handy craft.
The twilight of the new sunset showed its true horror as it infuriated her stranger’s appearance—the shadow covering him so much it revealed as much as his malicious smile. He was hungry, starved for a crisp kill. Tasting the pleasure of the thrill, he smirked widely and gave him his response with a hard sanguine thrust. “I’m your maker,” he stated insanely.
At the sight of blood, she gasped and bit back a scream but her dismay was of none of his concern for he was enjoying himself…immensely. Miki sunk down as if on reflex and hid her eyes from the sight. The urge of various fluids and bile were demanding to come out strewn from her mouth but she refused it, hell’s bells was the only thing she told herself, hell’s bells!
Jack the Ripper himself was there as well as Billy Blue—they were tossing about in their graves at this stranger’s handiwork and her guide’s screams. The dispatchment of limb for limb was made ever so agonizing and sweet with the knifing of his dagger. Hacking mercilessly at his victim’s flesh, he chiseled his way into his gutsy insides.
Blood sputtered everywhere to Miki’s horror. Bloodstains danced as they were gusted in the cool wind, his trench coat flowing in it as he work. “AHHHH! AHHHH!” his screams rang in the air, in the shady darkness. As soon as he started, he had just ended as Miki could hear nothing more than thunderous hush of everything. The madness, the butchery had stopped and come to an end…or did it?
Would she be next on his sick agenda? Ending up hacked to pieces like her unfortunate killer spattered on the ground. It didn’t matter as long as she didn’t get to watch or listen to her screams of pain and protest if it were so. Sightless her hands remained on her eyes for fear if she removed them that she would truly become eyeless.
“Open your eyes,” was his dry order to her. “No,” she refused, “No…” Easily looking at her fear as mere childishness, he growled. “You can either open them or just as easily have them cut out,” he cruelly reasoned, “I’m in the mood for another round of bloodstains and I have no compassion.” Swiftly and still so slowly, she opened her eyes and drank in the sight of him light an infant with expired milk.
Looming over her, blood staining the side of his cheek, he wore a cool frown. His hands, surprisingly clean, reached to pick her up. “Can you stand?” he asked coolly. She leaned herself willingly on his chest stealing a glimpse of what lay behind his shoulder. Traces of carnage were left all around, but he blocked her view all the same.
“Don’t,” he instructed, “You’ll just mess up my suit.” How did he manage to keep it clean!? Trembling furiously, she met his gaze with a heated one of her own. “Who are you?” she inquired impetuously, “And how did you—?” Her question was not completely voiced as his blood blade was bared to her once again. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said crisply. “You’re gonna kill me? Then why did you…?”
His voice came out low and dull, and it still remained cool—what she’d give to have hold of him. “I couldn’t miss the chance to see the lovely Miki Dai again, could I?” Finally he let his sadistic freak show itself and leaned closer. “After all, I don’t intend to keep you alive…”
Bittersweetness lingered in the air, the friction between them. Miki had never felt so disgusted or so awakened. Suddenly, the thought of him devouring her whole with his dagger turned intriguing. What more did she have to gain or to lose? She could come up with no answer.
Motionlessly, Miki stayed stilly in his arms. She did nothing, absolutely nothing as he leaned in with is dagger for a taste. Just then, she changed her mind—she did want to watch her demise now and surrender.
If only it were that simple…
~~~
FIN
~~~

What do you think?


Authored by: Miki