The sea breeze ripped my hair back from my face and reduced my vision to a watery smear. The cold stole my already ragged breath, and I let the salt of the sea dry on my skin, inhaling the frigid air. I wanted so badly to go back there, to explain. His face as I fled still hit me in the gut like a boot- it wasn't even sad, either. It was just resigned. I hit the stone wall in frustration, the tears escaping. Why did I want him to care? I don't. Yet, his resignment to my anger, my madness, made me grit my teeth in frustration. I wanted him to somehow understand me without me telling him. I wanted him to get me.
Then, my stomach twisted, and the little hairs on my arms raised through my jumper. The pain drove me to my knees, forcing me to look up to see what I knew I'd see. She leered at me from high above. " He knows, you know. He's smart, smarter than you. He knows about James. He saw it in his dreams," she said in a sing-song voice, dragging the last word out as if in a cheesy movie. Then, her hand closed around my throat. "You know, and I know, that I can't kill you yet. Yet." Her hand closed tighter, and her voice became very far away, my ears ringing. Then, a man walked in front of me, his suit starched well enough to cut someone. "Excuse me, miss? Are you alright?" She smiled wider. " Oh dear, Erin. You know, this is all in your mind. Your sick, twisted mind." She disappeared, and I lurched to the side, just as the man moved to catch my head. I tried to get up, to reassure him I was completely fine, and instead a mist of blood speckled his shirt, the rest clinging to my lip. His disgust was palpable, but he helped me up nevertheless. Then, his eyes raked my body, and his face paled. He moved off backward, stiffly, never taking his eyes off of me, and I watched the red move back until he vanished, gasping for air. I frowned. She must have choked me longer than I thought, broken a blood vessel.
I walked down the pier, wiping my mouth with the back of one of my hands, and tried to talk to someone, to find my way back to my car. Nothing but blood came out. Even my words were dead, dead and gone with my parents and James. All afternoon, I attempted to get someone to help me, the next person reacting more violently to the blood than the last. The final woman, at dusk, despite the thin stream of blood which was now coming from my mouth, helped me to my car. Once I was sat in the driver's seat, she motioned for me to roll the window down. " Drugs aren't worth it, pet." Then, she stepped back. My reflection stared at me from the wing mirror- pale, dark eyed, with blood smeared across my lower lip and nose. I tried to thank her, and another stream of blood trickled down my chin. She ran, gagging.
I almost laughed, but desisted, remembering the blood. Now, I have no choice but to keep quiet. Well, unless he wants a shower of blood.