Dark Roses Die

Chapter 1 - On The Run

                                                                                        Imelda 

They're behind me. I can feel it. 

Change absolutely everything, no same path, no routine.

That was what I was taught, what I'd mastered, what kept me alive. But now...  now I just want to give up, give in, surrender. 

I'd been moving for approximately 12 hours now and my throat hurt, everything hurt. 

The comfort of daylight vanished and the forest was now ready for the night. Only light I was getting was from my phone, now at 56% . I had power-banks so battery life wasn't a problem. 

A  breeze of cool air danced around me every now and then and darkness wrapped around like a blanket. My legs ached with each and every ponderous step down this path. It felt like I was detached from the world.

I had to keep moving. No looking back.

Water from the cataclysmic rain from earlier formed puddles on the ground which now seeped into my new but worn out shoes, cooling the blisters and open wounds on my feet.  I sighed. It was so foolish of me to pack just a pair of shoes but so was unnecessary weight. Now I had to suffer the consequences. I was in so much pain. Unbearable pain.

"Why me?" I whispered to myself, cold tears pouring down my numb cheeks. I took off my bag and sat down on a large pearl-grey rock unable to see clearly because of the tears blurring my view.  My lower back was rubbed red and raw from my stuffed packed bag. Opening it, I took out my mahogany diary to reposition it.

This was mistake 1. Remember this. 

The leaves rustled against each other; whispering. Maybe about me, maybe not. It was so beautiful how the wind moved everything to its own tune. Leaves. Grass. Seeds and even feathers. The stars far but watching down, our own guardian angels gleaming, smiling. The moon like me; lonely. Like everyone in this forbidden ruined world. However,  when the forest is dark it's undeniably eerie, anyone could be anywhere, hiding, waiting. Lurking in shadows unseen and ready to fight. Or not, it could just be my wild imagination.

I got up and started walking,  this time cautious of my surroundings. 

After leaving the luxury of my home, this was far from comfortable . This wasn't an adventure I dreamed about as a kid. I always fantasized of enchanted woods, fairies, knights and running away with a soulmate to have our happily ever after. But like I said I fantasized and regardless of whether those things were real or not, reality now  was tedious and harsh. 

Our world was heartless, cruel and corrupted. Everyone stands alone, selfish, there is no helping anyone. Well at least from what I've seen and heard.

It's October 2:34 am and I'm in a forest. How weird. 

I'm on the run. For the first time I've  left  everything behind and thought about me; my survival.

Why?

because I am being hunted..

 6 months ago I felt as if I was constantly being followed.  Going to work and going out with my friends was unsafe. Then slowly other things, creepy unsettling things began to happen. I saw dead roses everywhere, everyday. Ones that were beautiful yet haunting. 

My manor had been broken into; things shattered, stolen, copied. But money wasn't a problem because what came after was worse.

 I was kidn*pped. I remember certain parts of it as if it had happened yesterday, an experience engraved in my brain. I was blindfolded for most of the time, but I could hear everything. 

A boy close to my age, I assumed, spoke to me when I was allowed to sit down. His voice is deep, heavy and almost dark in a sense. Alluring. I detected how formal his vocabulary and mannerisms were. Who was he? 

I could smell of course, thank god. I smelt whiffs of a fragrance everyone now and then as he moved.  A rich sophisticated perfume, one that oozed money. 

It's wonderful how the other senses are heightened when you can't see.  I could sense he was confident, mature and how at first everything seemed scripted. 

Was it his first time? 

He spoke slowly and chose his words wisely, his voice almost calming me, distracting my mind. 

He made me pick  numbers and places in the city in a strange peculiar way, as if some kind of test. I named whatever came to mind unsettled by the thought of what could happen if I resisted. I obeyed everything and did what I was ordered. Then silent. I could hear the boy pacing around back and forth.

 Was he nervous? Is he going to kill me? 

 Finally he stopped and a phone rang. Sharp and loud breaking the silence. He called out the destinations and numbers I had carelessly said. Seconds passed, then gunshots followed. 

Quick remorseless gunshots. Echoing.  

Though the whole thing felt like ages, it was just an hour. The most terrifying, traumatizing hour of my life. The press called it "the dark hour" and it was the second biggest mass killing this year. 

 I was a living walking target. After the private investigation had run its course, we found out that I was bugged and being watched. That wasn't it. Whoever they were, they wanted me. Me specifically. I don't know why but i'll find out.

At first I believed I was just a random person who was selected for the murders, meaningless, but the investigation which followed stated otherwise. This was a carefully constructed a*******n. Well thought out, almost perfect. I say almost because no big crime committed is perfect. There is always a loose end, a clue, you just have to pay attention to key details.

I don't remember how i got to where i was, perhaps i was drugged, perhaps not. I vaguely recall getting out of a taxi and entering a narrow valley but everything after is foggy and messed up. i had a meeting which i talked to no one about, it was scheduled and planned months ago so that we would have the venue all to ourselves. It was a private and inner circle only thing.

The next memory I have is when I was led into what I presumed to be the empty spacious room where the boy was. Thinking back on it now, I genuinely feel sorry for myself, I felt so nervous fearing for my life.

 I was held at gunpoint. I felt a single muscular arm around my neck holding me steady and the hand firmly resting on my shoulder, blocking any movement . The other hand pointing the gun down the side of my head. I could feel my temple nerve beating against the muzzle. My breathing short and sharp, louder with every passing second, my heart pounding. The man with the gun threatened to shoot if I moved or talked without permission. How rude and unnecessary.

 Someone called out "Zathrian" and that was when the mysterious boy entered. 

Zathrian  that was his name, he smelt amazingly good, not to mention rich and he had a deep posh voice. That's all I knew. 

Before I was led out I tried to grab anything I could; pen, book, phone, maybe even a bottle, anything. 

Though my hands were tied, I managed to feel around the table and finally find some paper. I just hoped it had some evidence, enough to give me answers. I hid the paper in my back left pocket and acted like I was itching my back so I wouldn't get caught. At this point I was just waiting, I didn't feel as if I was in danger, i was merely trying to figure out who was there and what was happening. A few people in front of me exchanged a few words, all i detected was "prison", "dark" and "murder". After that, again, i don't remember anything which is why i think i was drugged.

They obviously let me go because my next vivid memory was in front of my manor.  I walked in my front garden and froze, I couldn't think or speak. What are you supposed to do in such a dark situation? they knew where i lived and where i'd be, i was even threatened. I had no one. My “friends” distance themselves out of fear. Who do I talk to? What if no one believed me?

What happened after led me to the forest, in pain and alone, scared for my life. They had my DNA, medical files and even my voice. 

Things like this had only been seen in movies, now it was happening to me.  

The paper I'd hid in my pocket had an address and date. That was my plan, my last resort, get to the location and find answers. 

That was my next move. Through a forest, unseen.