Within

Chapter Three

“So that’s when I told him, no you can suck my d**k,” Quinn, one of my co-workers, exclaimed loudly. She was talking to Rachel, a busybody who enjoyed entertaining herself by barging into everyone’s personal life.

“Jesus Christ, Quinn,” Rachel swore, “can you talk any louder?”

Quinn snorted. “Yeah. Wanna hear it?”

“No,” I answered for Rachel, turning to shoot a glare at Quinn. She and I had beef ever since she snitched on me for not clocking out during break.

“Camille, I don’t remember you being a part of this conversation.”

“Your loudness made everyone a part of it. I’m sure that the customers outside could hear it, too.”

I had been in a good mood when I had arrived at work. Then Quinn ruined it by being herself. So maybe I should’ve kept my nose in my own business, but I felt like fighting her for messing it all up.

“Okay, what-ever,” Quinn retorted. “Don’t get your granny panties in a bunch.”

“Shut up,” I told her immediately, already tired of her existence. And I was going to have to deal with her for the rest of the day, since we were both working a twelve-hour shift today. It was hard work, yeah, but I needed the money and normally made a good amount off of tips. Anyway, with Quinn being here, the thought of suicide was prevalent--just so that I could get away from her. The rat.

I was waiting for the day that she hurry up and quit already.

I’d forget about her soon enough once I got into the swing of things. The diner was actually pretty popular. There was a college located nearby, so it wasn’t unusual for moderately large groups of students to come in. Also, we were pretty famous for our “extra-fluffy” pancakes that people constantly ordered. I had them once before, and found out what all the hubbub was about. It wasn’t totally unfounded.

I walked over to a lone man who was sitting in a booth by himself. All he had was a cup of coffee, but Mary had asked me to give him a refill while she dealt with another table. He wasn’t even doing work or anything, just sitting there and looking out at the window. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t understand his mood, though, I was sure that something had happened to him.

“Here you go,” I told him as I refilled his cup. “Nice and hot for you.” I don’t know why, but I felt like being kind to him. Maybe I could be his Arthur and make his day.

He turned to look at me, hazel eyes locking with my own. “Thank you,” he said, voice coming out scratchy. His lips tilted upwards slightly.

I found myself smiling in response. I normally smiled at the customers, but it was always fake and plastered on. But I wanted to feel good, and I found a genuine smile spreading across my face.

“No prob’,” I told him before leaving.

When I got back to the counter, Mary smirked at me as she posted the order she had just gotten. “Isn’t he hot?”

“What?” I said, gagging. First of all, Mary was like seventy thousand years old. Okay, maybe that was being a little dramatic. Point is, she was too old to be talking about how “hot” some guy was.

She snorted, placing her hand on her bony hip. “I may be old, but these eyes work just fine, thank you.”

Had she read my mind? Could old people do that? I mean sure, I was a banshee, thus, immortal (though not invincible), but I was still young. Only in my twenties. But Mary was prehistoric. Or at least, she looked it. “Right,” I drawled. I turned my head, throwing a glance back at the man that I had just spoken to. She was right, he was pretty attractive. But after seeing someone as beautiful as Arthur, he paled greatly in comparison. His nose wasn’t straight enough and his jaw was weak (at least, in comparison to Arthur’s). I looked back at Mary. “He’s all right.”

“Maybe you’re the one with the messed up eyes,” she shot back.

I snorted at this. “Okay.”

After that, we parted. Then the brunch surge came, followed by lunchtime and dinner.

My feet were killing me, Quinn was pissing me off, I was in an all around shitty mood by the time my shift neared its end. Mostly because of Coffee Guy, the man that I had once tried to cheer up. He didn’t leave until near the end of the lunchtime boom, meaning that everyone was gossiping about him.

Quinn suggested a bad break-up, Rachel said someone had died, a few others suggested that he was waiting on someone and they never showed. They were showing him with attention, too. Making sure that his cup was never empty.

Which was fine at first, but the discomfort that I was enduring made everything harder towards the end. Everyone was pissing me off. I knew that I should probably just have gotten another job, seeing as this one put me in such a terrible stink, but I found myself unwilling to leave my comfort zone here.

So I stayed and whined about it all afterwards.

I digress.

Coffee Guy was still the hot topic after he had left. It was because he was good-looking, I think. If he hadn’t been, they would’ve written him off as a creep.

It was finally over, though. I’d get to go home, watch trash TV, and probably crash into bed afterwards. I exhaled as I rubbed the soles of my feet in the back changing room, not ready to walk to the bus stop yet.

Part of me felt like I wouldn’t make it even though I knew that I could.

I finished getting changed back into my casual clothing, then quietly left work because there was no one that I needed to say good-bye to. I stepped outside, the chill easily piercing through my jacket. Even though it was only early fall, the wind and cold were a force to be reckoned with. Especially since the sun had already stopped shining.

But I wasn’t sure why, but today just felt extra cold. Like sub-zero even though I knew that it wasn’t.

“Whew,” I spoke aloud, watching my breath solidify before me in the darkness. God, I thought, this year’s winter is going to be actual hell. Not that I expected anything, considering that we lived in Massachusetts, near Boston. Our winters were never fun.

With another exhale, I started walking towards the bus stop.

The ride to my house was quiet. There were only a few others on the bus so there was plenty of space all around. I’d gotten on this bus and rode to and from town with these people multiple times, but to this day, I still didn’t know any of their names.

Was that strange? For me, whose life was never normal, it was hard to gauge what was socially acceptable for me to do. People like, nonhumans, kept from humans. There was an invisible line drawn between us. The humans didn’t know of our existences, and on our side, we wanted to keep it that way.

So, we kept together. I used the term “we” loosely. Banshees were... not well liked anywhere. We were death-bringers, bad omens. Especially banshees of my caliber; we were hated even more.

That said, we were one of the rarer species. But even amongst ourselves, we did not socialize with each other and tried to stay as far apart as possible. It wouldn’t be odd for there to be only one banshee within a large radius.

I leaned my head back against the window. No matter where I went or what I did, I would never be accepted. I couldn’t be myself around humans because they didn’t know, and the supernatural community hated me because they knew.

How was I supposed to make friends this way? Banshees were immortal; I’d live forever with no one by my side until the day I offed myself or someone offed me.

The robotic female voice came on the PA, announcing my stop and the one that would follow after.

I stood then, making my way over to the door with a heavy heart. I wished that I was either asleep or working--that way I wouldn’t have to think about these things.

As the doors opened and I stepped off the bus, I thought about Arthur.

He was a moment. That was how I decided to think of him. A beautiful, glorious moment. But like all moments, he would pass. Arthur was a human, a nice one, but still a human. We would never be able to have a deep relationship. Even if we did, he grow old and die, or he would find someone else. Either way, I was alone in the end.

I sniffled, unsure if it was because of the cold or my emotions. I looked up at the sky, surprised to see a thickening layer of fog coating the stars.

For a moment, I stopped walking. And that’s when I heard the footsteps behind me cease too.

It was so quiet that if I didn’t have abnormally good senses, I wouldn’t have even noticed.

I had noticed that there was someone behind me before, but had paid it no mind until now. I wasn’t an i***t or an optimist, so I immediately realized that I was being followed. It was dark out tonight, and I was a lone female in the rougher part of town.

I started to move again, careful not to move fast to avoid rousing my pursuers suspicions.

The footfalls stayed in perfect sync with mine. If I skipped a little or stepped strangely, they did the same in that precise moment.

I started rummaging through my memories, was there any alert out for a pervert? I didn’t think that there was. So the person was specifically targeting me? Maybe not me, but I would be their first victim.

Fear started pumping in my heart and I took a wrong turn on purpose so I wouldn’t lead them to my house.

Unlike the majority of supernatural creatures, banshees were rather weak. By weak, I meant that our physical strength was on par with humans. Which meant the chances of me overpowering my assailant were next to none, seeing that I was weak for a banshee and a human.

I wished that I had some type of weapon to utilize, but, alas, I didn’t. In hindsight, it was rather foolish of me to not even pack a can of mace.

I needed help. If I was on a phone call, the person would be less likely to attack me, right? I smirked smugly, pulling out my phone and called Arthur’s number. He was a big guy. I was sure that if simply calling him didn’t work, if I told Arthur where I was that the follower would back off upon seeing him.

He picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Arthur!” I said louder than necessary.

“Who is this?” Arthur questioned, voice flat.

I blinked. “Oh.” I had forgotten to send him a text so he could have my number. No wonder why he had taken so long to pick up. He didn’t know who it was. That made me feel better, kind of. “It’s Cam.”

I heard the sound of clattering dishes in the background. “Cam? Hey,” more shuffling, “what’s up?”

“Uh,” I started, whispering so that I couldn’t be heard, “I think I’m being followed.”

He paused. “Like, someone is stalking you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” was his immediate question.

It was my turn to pause. The cops. Right. The ones who I was supposed to call in situations like this. “I don’t know,” I said dumbly. I thought that I had been so smart by calling Arthur. “I just... did.”

“Well, wher--”

The line went dead all of the sudden. There wasn’t even a dial tone or anything, just silence from the other end. I took my phone away from my ear and peered at it through the darkness. The screen had gone black, and pushing the button to turn it on did nothing.

“The hell,” I muttered. My phone battery couldn’t be dead. I didn’t use it at all and had kept it on airplane mode for the majority of the day. I groaned, shoving it into my back pocket.

Okay, that hadn’t gone as planned. And the person behind me hadn’t given up, either.

I gripped my purse tightly, quickening my pace. The fear that had subsided before was back in full force. Terror was taking control of my heart, rational thought flew out of my head as I broke into a near run.

Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Was I going to die? Would I be put in the news as a tragic loss? I didn’t have any photos of myself, maybe the one from my ID.

Tears prickled at my eyes. I could hear them chasing after me, feet still in perfect step with my own.

This was seriously happening right now.

I increased my speed, basically sprinting now. My legs started to burn almost instantly. I never really did much running in my life, or exercise in general. I was coming to regret that decision.

Push, push, push! I shouted inwardly, ignoring the pain that had ignited in my legs. The shoes I was wearing didn’t give the best support either. But I had to get away. I didn’t want to get caught. I knew that if I need, it wouldn’t end well for me.

The street lights started turning off then. It was fast; I could hear the lights switching off. Then we were in complete darkness. And the fog, there was even more now. I literally couldn’t see five feet in front of me anymore.

I could hear the person behind me running faster, starting to close the distance between us easily--I think I even heard them laughing. The cold was nearly unbearable, now. It was nipping at my exposed skin and I felt like someone was stabbing me with pins and needles all over.

Tears started blurring my already terrible vision. I understood now, I knew that whatever was behind me wasn’t human. The laugh was so evil, so ruthless, that there was no way that a human could ever be able to conjure up such negativity.

My first thought when the hand wrapped around my throat was: why me?

I had been a good person. As good as a banshee could be, at least. I didn’t want to hurt people. I didn’t want to cause their deaths. I tried to stop. I really did.

Why did I have to be the one to die like this? I had always wanted to die on my own terms, not by someone murdering me.

I collapsed to the ground, my chin skidding against the concrete and the skin splitting and peeling. I shrieked a little, not used to feeling pain. I felt a pressure on my back--the chaser was sitting on top of me while still holding my neck tightly.

I felt them lean over, their breath brushing across my ear. “Hello,” he--the voice was obviously male--whispered, amusement clear in his voice. “How are you?”

Really? Was he serious right now?

Apparently, he was. Because his free hand gripped my hair and yanked my head back painfully. I thought that my neck was going to break because he was lifting it up and pushing it down at the same time.“Answer me,” he demanded.

The most I could manage was a whimper.

“Good enough.” He relinquished his grip on my hair, my head falling back down and forehead connecting with the cement. “Now, we’re going to get up,” he told me. “But if you scream or make any loud noises, I’ll snap your neck. Understand?”

I tried to nod. But I couldn’t even really do that.

But he understood my message anyway. We stood slowly--it was an awkward transition because he didn’t let go of my neck and he had been sitting on my back.

“Good girl,” he said to me, a smile in his voice. He let go of my neck for a split second so that he could turn me to face him, then his grip was back again. Since it was complete and utter darkness, I couldn’t see his face. I felt his other hand cup my face, his finger softly caressing the wound.“You know, it really is a waste.”

What was a waste? I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to speak out and get hurt.

He let go of my face, his free hand now trailing down from my chin to touch my stomach. It made me want to cringe, his touch felt disgusting. Even through my clothing, it felt slimy. He leaned forward, our cheeks touching and his mouth in front of my ear. “If only you hadn’t met him. I can appreciate a powerful banshee when I see one,” he started to say. “It really is a shame.”

That’s when it started. Agony and pain that mimicked what happened when I had to scream. Only it wasn’t that I had to scream. No, it was his hand.

I had thought that he was going to grope me at first--that in the end, he was just a pervert. But he wasn’t. His finger started to push into my stomach. It started off as a really hard poke. But when he kept going, I realized that it wasn’t. His finger punctured through my skin and muscle like a knife. For a second, I thought he was actually stabbing me with one.

“Shh,” he whispered when a pained gasp escaped me. He slipped two more fingers into the hole, widening it and tearing through more of my stomach. “You’ll be free once I’m finished.”

Free? Right, he was going to kill me. We both knew that him putting a hole in my stomach wouldn’t be enough to kill even a human--not quickly, at least.

He was torturing me, I realized.

The pain was so intense that I hardly recognized it anymore. My head was getting cloudy, vision swimming. Had I lost that much blood? Time was going so fast and slow at the same time.

Was he done yet? How long had it been since he had first stabbed me? Another moan passed through my lips. I could feel it again. Not the pain, but my own blood oozing out of the hole in my abdomen. It was soaking my clothes, undoubtedly ruining my shirt. Which didn’t matter, because I was going to die.

I tried to think about other things. Other than the fact that I was getting murdered. I was experiencing some weird sense of clarity. Things made sense. Because I killed others, I was being killed myself. The world was balancing itself out.

I started to cry, my legs giving out from under me and I collapsed to the ground. He let me, too, having let go of my throat now. So I just laid there on the cold cement, bleeding out.

Who was going to find my body? A random passerby, probably. I hoped that it wasn’t a child. Or maybe no one would ever find me. Maybe he’d take my body somewhere else. I didn’t know if a banshees body was important to anyone, but he could probably make some money off of my organs if he sold them in the black market.

He knelt next to me, his bloodied hand stroking my forehead like he was a parent putting their child to sleep. “I apologize that I had to do this,” he told me.

What? Was he a sympathetic murderer now?

“You’ll understand one day, I’m sure.”

Understand what? I wanted to spit at him, but I didn’t have enough strength to breathe, let alone speak. I coughed instead, blood bubbling up and spilling out from the sides of my mouth.

It was cold, too. It was a different type of chill. I guess that this was how dying people felt. I looked up at the foggy sky, noticing that the stars were completely covered by it.

Then it was all gone. The fog, the darkness. The street lamps all switched back on, bathing the world in golden light and the stars were shining again.

I was able to see my murderers face now, too. It was Coffee Guy. If I wasn’t too busy bleeding out, I probably would have been offended. But the funny thing was that I just didn’t care, like, at all. My brain couldn’t well function enough to conjure up such a reaction.

There was something else on his face though. I hadn’t seen his expression before, but I was sure that he had been smug from the tone of his voice? Now? Now there was unbridled fear written across it. He stood up, I heard the sound of him trying to run away from whatever or whoever had just come.

My failing hearing was able to pick up the sounds of a scuffle. I think I heard Coffee Guy cry out in pain, a loud bang, then, silence.

I turned my eyes back to the skies, wondering what happened and at the same time not really caring. My consciousness was beginning to fade. Black mist was forming in the corners of my vision, slowly moving forward and engulfing the world in black.

Then, I heard a voice.