A Wolf in the City

3| A Fun Position to be In.

RAVEN.

I grip on so tightly despite the fact that my palms are starting to feel sore and burned. My nails dig deep onto his wrist to give myself a better grasp, to give myself one more hope that I won't end up falling to my own death. A tear roll onto my cheek, but I don't care; I have to stay focused. Despite the nerves attacking my already fragile mental state, I force myself to speak in my no-nonsense tone. “I wasn’t planning to die, what are you talking about?”

"Oh, really?" He asks, in a tone of mockery, one that shows that he doesn't believe me in any way.

“Yeah. So can you… pull me up already? This is not a fun position to be in.” I say as I wish that I could use his forearm to do that myself, but then any sudden movement will probably have the exact opposite effect and he could release me to meet my maker. Still grabbing my wrist with a nonchalant hand, he retrieves his lighter with his free one and lights the cigarette. The tip burns like rich orange dusk and he takes his time before he throws the lighter back into his pocket and blows out a cloud of smoke in my face. I usually gag on the smell of cigarettes, but that’s the least of my problems now.

“So what do I get in return for helping you?” He asks and I feel like I have just been slapped in the face. Who's this lunatic?

“My thanks? What else? Why do you even need to establish that before you help?” I reply with a sarcastic tone and I immediately regret it, coming to terms that I am at his mercy at the moment.

“What am I supposed to do with your thanks?" He throws back at me after taking a puff of his cigarette.

He seems to be enjoying this so much. This whole situation that started with my attempts to better my life and make me forget a bad memory has landed me with a nightmare. My gaze strays to the halfsmoked cigarette and just when I’m thinking about what next to say to this i***t, he inhales what remains in a few seconds and throws the butt away.

“Your time is up. Goodbye.” He says as he starts to release himself from my hold, but I dig my nails in farther.

What the heck?

“Wait!” No change occurs in his features even as the air tousles his hair back. Even as I’m sure he feels me shaking with the desperation of a leaf struggling to survive. Nothing seems to have any effect on him. And it scares the s**t out of me. How can someone be this…this cold? This detached? This lifeless? And it’s all because of the man standing in front of me. His features are vacant, his eyes still dull and lifeless, and every bleak color in the palette. If I had to put a color on him, it’d most definitely be black— deadpan, cold, and a boundless hue.

In my life, I’ve never been as frozen as I am right now. And it has everything to do with his cold touch. It’s callous, devoid of any care, and absolutely terrifying. This must be what it feels like to have your soul ripped out by the Grim Reaper.

I wish this was a façade, but there’s no ounce of deceit in his tone. This crazy bastard really won’t hesitate to make good on his promises. He really won't hesitate to release me into the freezing water and watch me take my last breathe. It’s only now that I realize what deep trouble I’m actually in. This bastard is not in anyway making a joke, he doesn't even seem like a comedian. This psycho will devour me alive. If I thought I was hollow for weeks, then this will definitely end me. Decimate me. Tear me to pieces.

He must sense my distress, considering the trembling of my whole body. I’m like a stray bird in the middle of the windy night, being pushed in all directions.

“Now, I'm going to ask again, what do I get for helping you?" the stranger asks in his casual voice that could belong to dukes and aristocrats. There’s unnerving ease in his movements and manner of speech. As if he’s a robot that’s running on some f****d-up battery. At first, he watches me with a blank expression, but soon after, a low chuckle comes from his lips and for the first time tonight, light shines in his eyes. It’s not black-on-black this time. It’s pure sadist light. The light of someone so utterly pleased and satiated.

Every smile that lit up his features is the wrong sort. It's like he ran on cold malice instead of any form of genuine affection. Perhaps, he was a baby that was left to cry, or a personality disorder the doctors can't fix. Either way, he has as much empathy as a medieval mace.

"What do... what do you want?" I ask.

"Hm... let me think for a minute." He replies as he placed a finger on his chin in a dramatic manner and I can't help but wonder why such a crazy person is allowed to wander around. I can't believe that there's anyone who's like this and thinks it's okay to demand something in return for a help that isn't costing them a dime.

Wow... just wow.

Merely thinking of it has me feeling chills over my body. I don't know what else to say nor do, I want to scream while he continues to leave me dangling over the railings in the pretence of thinking but I can't scratch off the fact that this lunatic might actually drop me if I do try anything like that, I am about to open my mouth and possibly plead when a torch from someone or something points in our direction. I thanked my star as I watched the person walk towards us in little strides then I scream as loud as I could but before I knew what was happening.

I was deep inside the freezing water I have been trying to avoid all night long.