Stories in Broken Glass

Glass exploded where his fist connected, pushing through the window to grab my arm in a bruising grip. My hands fell away from the wheel of my Honda to protect my face and neck; too late. His hand was already there, gone from my arm to encircle my throat. I felt a tingling pressure under my eyes and behind my nose before black spots clouded my vision. The only thing I could feel was the pounding of my lungs inside my skull, begging for air. Abruptly, I could breathe again. The hand was gone, and my senses slowly returned to me. Metallic and copper, the night air was overflowing with it. The odd rhythm of flesh hitting flesh accompanied the throbbing in my ears, drawing my hazy vision out the windshield. It was brutal, glorious, terrifying, and impossible. A dark man with glowing gold eyes was fighting another with sickly pale skin and otherworldly fangs that prodded from a snarling mouth. The sight of the unnatural jerked my fingers into action, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the door. The earth swayed and tilted as my heeled boots met the asphalt of the lonely back road. My vision was interrupted by black spots and a fuzzy feeling behind my eyes. The pale man broke away from the fight to run at me. His eyes were vibrant red, and his fangs seemed to lengthen. I turned and ran the opposite way. The road was framed by dense forest. Thick trees swallowed up the moon as I ran, my heels proved to be not suitable for running and almost caused a broken ankle twice. A body hit the ground behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. My shoulder is throbbing like a second heartbeat, stinging, and burning with every pump of my arms. It’s growing darker the further in I run, I don’t stop as I make a hard right. I stumble as I try to make another right to loop around back to my car. I went down, my ankle giving a hard jerk in my boot. I’m going to die. Everything hurts, my lungs, my shoulder, my throat, my ankle. A gurgled cry erupts from my mouth. A powerful body slams in front of me. I look up, breathing hard. It’s the man with gold eyes. I meet his unnatural gaze with clenched teeth, refusing to make a sound. He c***s his head, so much like a dog that it distracts me from my incoming doom. He doesn’t look any older than me; maybe 19. The face of death. Is rather… pretty. Dark hair, gold glowing eyes, a face shaped like a diamond. Every bone in his body complemented his otherworldly bad boy appearance… I’ve lost it. Checking out my killer… if he decides to kill me. The alarming thought drags me back into reality, to the strange boy with glowing eyes. Oh my god, his eyes are glowing. Holy s**t, his eyes are glowing. I then proceeded to freak out. Before I could scream, the boy muttered something under his breath and took off. Turned on his sneakered heel and ran—away from me. I started to cry, full of blubbering and sniffles. What the hell is going on? Am I on drugs? My sobs were accompanied by the pain that was seeping into the rest of my body. Looking down at my shoulder and saw blood. There were puncture wounds in my shoulder, from one of the guy’s hands. I cried harder. A howl sounded disturbingly close by. Pine needles dug into my palms as I pushed myself onto my feet. Ignoring the burning agony in my ankle I ran. My car wasn’t as far away as I thought. Sanctuary. A single word that ran through my brain as I opened the door. Glass rained down on the road and littered the seat. But I was okay…mostly. I called the cops, blubbering and in pain. I’m pretty sure they didn’t understand anything I was saying, they made me repeat my location twice before they informed me that someone was on the way. Did someone date r**e d**g me? … No, otherwise I’d be passed out. Maybe I have passed out and this is a dream. My muscles tremble and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I just wanted to take the back road to avoid cops. Coming back from a house party I know that I’ll be written off as a drunk driving accident. I don’t remember getting to the hospital, nor the ten stitches in my shoulder, or what lies I made-up regarding the finger shaped bruising around my neck and arm. I do remember the papers I signed, discharge papers that allow me to leave the limbo of life and death called a hospital. Except, I don’t have a car. Nor do I have money for a ride. So, I called my dad, straight to voicemail, but I know that when he sees it he’ll be here as soon as he can. The man isn’t totally without a heart, although it may seem that way when looking at him across a metal table your handcuffed to while he asks questions. He’s a cop, and a good one if his solved cases are anything to go off. His only flaw is that he’s never home. Lately there’s been an influx of illegal growing of c******s, so he’s more than likely dealing with that, out on the outskirts of town. I’m sitting cross-legged in a blue waiting chair, watching the clock, thinking about nothing. I’m too drained to think about anything. The lights are too bright that I can see it behind my eyelids when I close my eyes. The carpet is itchy and uncomfortable when I tried to lay down earlier. And, I don’t have any money for the vending machine. I count. I’m too tired to try and piece together what happened with what my brain keeps looping in the back of my mind. Bloodstained fangs. Red eyes and a pale complexion. The smell of metal—No, blood. Inhuman speed, animalistic snarling. And on top of it all, gold eyes.