Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Right Here ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Ebon confronts Theresa...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 531 | Status: Completed
Ebon confronts Theresa...
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.30.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 531 | Status: Completed
Right Here
Chapter Eleven
Ebon stared down at the sleeping blond before him; he heard the panicked beep of something electronic, but he paid it no mind. The glow of the night light illuminated the hollows, straights, dips and curves of Richie’s face, and he took the time to admire the sight before him. He gave a light sound as he turned away from the bed, surveying the contents of the teen’s room. He was careful to keep himself insubstantial–so that he wasn’t making any noise as he walked about.
He could hear the sounds of voices outside the room, located down the hall. Richie’s parents, more than likely; Ebon had deemed them a non-threat as he moved away from the bed.
Looking down at the clean desk, he surveyed the college applications and brochures, and gave a smirk. Turning away from the desk, he looked down at the shoes Richie had been wearing; he crouched, and patiently pulled the laces from the worn O’Neal’s. He tucked the laces into his pocket, then walked on to see what else he could do to further his terrorism of this teen.
He was able to see what he was doing, where he was going, thanks to the night light. He reached out for the closet, and opened the door; softly, gently, as to not rouse the sleeping figure on the bed nearby. It was neat, everything placed in folded piles on designated shelves and racks, with a small dresser crammed within to save space in the room itself. Everything fit neatly, with its own space that made it easy for one to shuffle through.
He inhaled deeply of the scent he’d come to associate Richie with. That lingering trace of mint with cinnamon mixed in made him grin. He reached out, quietly picking through the sweater shirts and hoodies that were hung neatly upon color coordinated hangars. He took out the familiar teal green and orange hoodie, tossing that over his shoulder. He took the hangars out from several shirts, and tossed those onto the floor. He kicked the pile of shirts underneath the bed and replaced the hangars; the reason wasn’t quite definable, but anything to upset a victim made him happy.
From there, he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of matched socks with worn heels. The boy needed new socks. Judging from the exhaustion of the place, Ebon figured the reason why Richie wore worn socks was because he couldn’t afford new ones. Well...Ebon was happy to try and support him in that area. He had plenty of money. He shook his head, tsking quietly as he reached into his back pocket, and withdrew his wallet. There, he tucked a five dollar bill into the pair, and tossed that atop of the others, so that Richie wouldn’t miss it when he opened the drawer.
He opened another, and gave a malicious grin. He picked through the neatly folded underwear with casual interest. He brought a clean pair to his nose, inhaling deeply of detergent and cleanliness. He refolded the material and looked through the drawer until finding a particular set of boxer briefs. He tossed those next to the hoodie he’d taken out earlier.
Opening another drawer produced more shirts. He saw the rack of folded jeans, and shut that drawer, reaching for a pair of pants that sat atop of the rack. Unfolding them, he saw that they were brown cargos, worn at the hems; he grimaced at the ragged state, but tossed those next to the clothes he’d chosen earlier. He placed a hundred dollar bill atop of the rack, figuring Richie needed it more.
Finally, Ebon bent, finding the shoe rack that was crammed into the small space between dresser and wall. At the sight of three pairs of worn shoes, he shook his head again. Then, methodically, he took the laces off of all but one pair. He pulled out the tongues, then mismatched them all except for that one pair.
Shutting the closet door, he repressed the urge to giggle; he knew Richie was not in his right mind if he were sleeping with night lights. He wished he were able to see his face upon seeing Ebon’s redecorating...
He looked down at the clothes he’d gathered, then set to work.
Minutes later, he was grinning proudly upon completion. He found a blank slip of paper and a pen, and wrote out a love note, taking his time in writing something that fit his current mood. He set the completed note next to his ‘decoration’.
He moved back over to the bed, hearing that same infernal beep that made him wonder what that was. He looked down at Richie, then bent carefully over him. He could smell the fresh scent of shampoo, soap and toothpaste. Mixed with the intoxicating smells the blond was already carrying naturally, Ebon breathed in the scent, closing his eyes in rapture at what he took. His hand shifted from behind his back, his fingers shaking slightly as they ghosted over the pale skin. He knew what it felt like; could remember the seemingly baby smoothness of his flesh against his.
He considered jacking off and leaving noticeable traces; but he didn’t want to be that sloppy. As he was pulling away, he noted the sudden grimace of the blond’s features; the clenching of his jaw, the way his fingers gripped his pillow. Ebon had to marvel at his work; because even in dreams, Richie was afraid of him.
That made him very proud, indeed.
He lowered his head, so that his lips were near that delicate shell.
“Dream of me,” he whispered, pulling back, and sinking into the shadows with a light chuckle.
OooooooooooO
At midnight, Theresa returned to the community center with an exhalation of heaviness, rubbing her chilled arms. She needed to pick up some stuff before heading back to her motel room. She heard Shiv arguing with somebody down the hall. She had just taken the stairway when the inky blackness of Ebon’s form materialized in front of her, shooting up from the top stairs. She pulled back with a startled gasp as he solidified, staring down at her with mounting anger.
His eyes gave the impression of a raised eyebrow; she suddenly knew that he had found out about her earlier activities. And it made her stomach clench violently, searing pain lashing throughout her mid-section. She grimaced, one hand creeping up to cover it painfully.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” he asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “Had a hot date?”
She didn’t look away from him as she stepped back, her fingers curling into her stomach as the pain persisted. She had to wince at the violence of it, her features paling considerably. Ebon followed her down the stairs, still with that evil glare.
“What’chu talkin’ about, Ebon?” she finally managed to eke out.
“You know what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, reaching out to grip her jacket, shoving her harshly down the rest of the stairs.
She nearly fell, but managed to stay upright as she reached out for a handhold along the railing. Catching her breath, she looked up at him as he followed her down.
“What the hell?” she exclaimed, her voice rising with collected anger.
“How long have you been talkin’ to him, Theresa?”
“T-talking to w-who?”
“Don’t you fuck with me!” Ebon shouted, getting into her face. “You’ve been friends with that bastard, an’ you’ve been tellin’ him what I been up to! I know you been communicatin’ with him!”
“What are you talkin’ about, Ebon? You crazy!”
“Don’t be talkin’ shit, Theresa. You know I’m right! I know you been talkin’ to Stone!” Ebon snarled, reaching out to grip her jacket. She tried jerking herself out of his grip, but his fingers tightened on the material. Fear made her desperate, and she reached out, slapping him across the face. The move stunned him enough to let go of her jacket, and she stumbled backwards, breathing harshly.
Their shouts had drawn Shiv and the others into the hall, and the purple haired meta looked stunned as he watched his boss advance on Theresa. With a scared expression, he saw Ebon reaching out to grab her ponytail, jerking her off her feet in a violent movement that sent the too-small woman in a spin. Ebon then pinned Theresa against the wall with one hand, and used the other to slap her , the crack of sound obscenely fierce within the stunned silence. Theresa kicked and punched out, shrieking with rising hysteria as she tried to escape the furious meta.
Shiv nervously stepped forward, feeling one of the guys reach out to grip the hem of his shirt, hissing at him to stay out of it. He was torn, struggling with conflicting emotions; wanting to obey his boss and wanting to help his family member. He didn’t want Theresa hurt, but he didn’t want to make Ebon unhappy, either. He could only watch silently as he watched Ebon shake Theresa violently, entirely too big and too strong for the woman that was no match for him. His gut twisted and his knees felt shaky.
“How much did you tell him?” Ebon shouted as he batted her fists away from him.
“I told him nothin’!” she screamed. “I didn’t talk about you! He learned nothin’ from me!”
“Fucking bitch, how long has this been goin’ on? How long?”
“I’ve been tight with him before the Big Bang! Just cuz we run in different crowds, don’t mean that I gotta drop what we have! Let go of me, motherfucker! Let go of me!”
“You sold me out! You sold out what I had to him! I know he gonna use that shit, I know he gonna turn around an’ sell it to someone that wants it!”
“You’re fuckin’ paranoid! Paranoid bastard!”
“B-boss, let g-go of her!” Shiv pleaded, reaching out as he moved forward again, ignoring the hisses behind him.
“Shut the fuck up, Shiv! Theresa, I trusted you,” Ebon then growled, letting go of her jacket and stepping back. Theresa was a mess of furious tears and fright, her face bright red with her previous struggles, her makeup smeared around her eyes. “I fuckin’ trusted you, an’ you sold me out. To him. He ain’t shit, but that’s him. Y’know our history...I’m fuckin’ pissed, Theresa. How dare you? I accepted you, I brought you into this gang. I gave you a home, a future! An’ you fucked it up by fuckin’ around with him!”
“Fuck you, Ebon!” she shouted, jerking her jacket back into place. Her voice was high pitched with her hysteria, and there was blood dripping from her nose. She stanched it with the back of her hand, then furiously reached out to punch at him, snarling when he avoided her fists with ease. “You didn’t give me shit! You gave me something that I didn’t want! You made me into what I am. I hate it! I hate you! I wish I had my family back! But you fucked it over with your stupid ideals, an’ your stupid frontin’! You can’t boss me around no more! I fuckin’ quit! I quit this shit!”
Ebon laughed at her as he reached out, shoving her head against the wall. She reacted by kicking at him, catching him in the knee. The moment the joint gave out, Ebon cursing as he buckled forward, she brought both fists down onto the back of his head, her fingers ensnaring into his corn rows. With a desperate lunge, she used his momentum to bang him face first into the wall. Reacting with a snarl, he leapt at her as she tried to scoot away, his fingers digging into her jacket and a grunt escaping as he pulled her back. She lost her footing, sliding to the floor as he curled his fists and began raining down blows against her vulnerable head. Her arms swept up, trying to block what was being administered.
Shiv leapt at Ebon, wrapping his arms around his neck and yanking him back. Once she was free from the rampage, Theresa was up on her feet and racing for the door. Ebon elbowed Shiv in the gut, forcing the meta to let go of him, and raced after her. Shiv dove at his ankles, bringing the meta down with a determined grunt. Ebon looked back at him as he crashed into the floor, immediately kicking free of the minion. By then, Theresa had escaped the community center, disappearing into the night.
Trying to catch his breath, he looked back at Shiv, who was staring at him with a mixture of fear and horror. Ebon then looked back at the group of guys that had seen the entire thing, all of them turning away to avoid meeting his gaze.
Realizing that he’d lost face, Ebon slowly rose to his feet. It had caused him to lose control, knowing that Theresa was talking with Hotstreak. While he was sure he had the upper hand against the redhead, just the fact that Theresa had gone behind his back and played some sort of house with him made Ebon furious.
He reached up to straighten his clothing, exhaling forcefully as he fought to regain his composure. It made him look like a fool, attacking Theresa like that. He wiped his face, then looked down at Shiv as the other meta hastily crawled back to his feet, staring at him.
“Sorry ‘bout that, man,” he muttered, hearing the others hurriedly leave the room, not wanting to witness anything more. “I...lost control.”
Shiv started to say something, but his lips stayed shut. He didn’t look away from Ebon, too afraid that if he did, the meta would attack him. But he nodded tightly, his jaw clenched as he kept his distance from the living shadow.
“Fuckin’ Theresa,” Ebon then cursed, walking toward the stairway. “Why’d she have to do this shit? Why? What the fuck? Fuckin’ bitch...Shiv, did you know about this?”
“NO!” Shiv shouted, his mind racing furiously. He shook his head, hearing his own voice tremble the way it had on the rooftop that horrid night. He tried clearing his throat, but it didn’t work as he added, “I d-didn’t know nothin’!”
“Yeah...? Well...considering how closely I gotta watch my own back, I wouldn’t be surprised if you been fuckin’ around with that Shebang character,” Ebon said sullenly. He then turned, spearing the meta a furious look. “You haven’t, have you?”
“I haven’t! Ever! I don’t even know who that is!”
“She’s the–never mind. Shiv...you’d tell me if somethin’ was up, right? I mean...you wouldn’t fuck around behind my back?”
Ebon was frustrated with this meta. While Shiv proved loyal and eager to perform his duties upon Ebon’s request, he really had nothing to hold against him. Kangorr had his kids; Theresa had her family. Shiv...Shiv had nothing. And Ebon had to respect him because of his almost mindless actions that brought Ebon the results he wanted. But he didn’t have any sort of hold against him; other than the fact that Shiv seemed scared of him.
“No, no, no...I wouldn’t, Ebon. Honestly! I–I wouldn’t know how to betray you! I...I would never do anything like that!” Shiv said hurriedly, gesturing fiercely. He was frightened, staring at the living shadow and then at the door where Theresa had fled.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Ebon then muttered, withdrawing his cell, and dialing a number. As soon as he heard an answer from the other end, he began spitting out orders. “You know what to do...she headed out. Make sure she don’t talk to anybody.”
Shiv felt his gut curdle, and there was an uncontrollable shake of his frame as he knew what Ebon was ordering–arranging for Theresa’s murder. He felt completely torn as loyalty to his boss and to Theresa pulled him in different directions. As he stood there, feeling heavy and utterly helpless, he hoped that she managed to stay out of sight; that she hid somewhere where Ebon couldn’t find her. That was all he could do for her.
OooooooooooO
Theresa hoped she looked a little presentable as she paused, leaning over to gaze at her reflection in a nearby car’s window. She licked her cold fingers and wiped around her nose, sure that she had scraped away all the dried blood from her previous injury. She had been on the move all night–going to places where she knew Ebon and his cronies couldn’t find her. Her entire body felt weak and exhausted as she pushed herself to move, feeling the various aches on her arms and head where Ebon had struck her.
She was a proud woman; she refused to cry or act weak over the incident. She was determined to get out of Dakota to escape him, but she couldn’t do so without seeing her family one more time.
She missed her mother; her sisters, her little brother. She missed seeing her aunts and uncles, and exchanging stories with her grandparents. She had had a large family that made it a point to gather every Sunday for dinner, and who shared each other’s things with familiar freedom. Her heart ached over them, her entire being wishing that the Big Bang hadn’t happened; that she hadn’t made the decisions that she had.
Because as Talon, she had done some disagreeable things, things that made her family turn their heads with shame. When she turned human and attempted to come back home, eager for the warmth and love of her family, her mother had told her that she was a risk. That the men she was with would use them against her. She had never felt so much pain as she had that day, staring with teary-eyed disbelief at the woman that gave birth to her, that had cherished and nourished her, turning her away.
Theresa had been shamed, hurt, depressed over her family’s rejection. She’d gone back to Ebon, and had lost dignity in herself by asking to return to his ‘family’. She hadn’t anywhere else to go; she didn’t know what else to do. Ebon had smirked and allowed her back without a comment; but he’d mentioned how heartbreaking it must be to lose what she’d held dear. The thing about the situation was that he never made fun of her; he never brought up that awful incident; and in that she felt grateful for him, brainwashed by the false security and comfort she replaced in the loss of her family’s.
But last night told her that she wasn’t safe here in Dakota, anymore. She had to get out. But she just could not leave until she saw her family.
Her stomach was aching once more; burning with agony that forced her to stop in mid-step, curling her arms around her middle. She panted as she tried to regain coherent thought, trying to think over the immense pain. She reached out to support herself against a street lamp, closing her eyes, taking even breaths. When the pain subsided, she slowly straightened, exhaling deeply. She began walking again, seeing her mother’s house up ahead. The neighborhood was quiet in these morning hours; somewhere beyond the block, a garbage truck was making its daily run, and she could hear the voices of a man and woman arguing from a nearby apartment building.
She licked her dry lips, her eyes drooping with exhaustion as she quietly made her way to the front gate. She stared at the cream-colored one story, taking in the familiar lattices, the porch swing, the decorative flower pots that lined the stairs. The porch was swept clean of snow, with kitty litter scattered over the wooden surface, and the reinforced screen door was painted brightly with vibrant suns that hadn’t been there the last time she’d come here.
She had taken her home for granted before the Big Bang; had scoffed at her family and made the usual teenage decisions that hurt her mother.
She hadn’t realized what she had until she lost it becoming Talon.
She reached out, curling her small fingers over the iced over gate that led to the front walk. Her heart ached, wanting the comfort and warmth her family could provide her as she stood out in the cold. She heard the slide of a door lock, and her breath caught in her throat. Anxiously, she watched as her mother emerged from the front door, dressed warmly in a flowery trench, her feet stuffed into a pair of her son’s sneakers. Theresa locked eyes with her, her fingers tightening on the gate as she waited for her mother to address her.
Constance walked off the porch, her sad, tired eyes locked on her daughter’s, and shuffled over to the gate at which she stood. Theresa swallowed hard as she felt pent up tears, anxiety and relief build up within her throat, making it tight. Constance wrapped her arms tight around her ample frame, and she took in her daughter’s appearance with a worn expression.
Theresa had lost a lot of weight over the past two years–frighteningly thin, pale, bruised and obviously tired. Constance had suspected that her daughter had dabbled in drugs; she looked like one of them, those drug-users that preyed upon the neighborhood, selling death to innocents.
Her own throat was tight as she ached to reach out to touch her; but she wouldn’t dare. She knew Theresa’s friends were people of evil nature; she had to protect the family. If she let Theresa in, those people would come looking at them. They would harm them to get at Theresa. She couldn’t risk it.
But how her heart hurt.
“Theresa...”
“Mami. ..Mami, I’m sorry,” Theresa whispered, leaning against the gate, her tears blurring her vision.
Constance shook her head slightly; her auburn hair was pinned against the back of her scalp, the way it had always been. She could feel curious eyes upon them; the others were awake, and were watching from the safety of the windows behind her.
“Theresa, I am, too...I cannot allow you back here,” she said softly, giving her daughter a firm look.
“Mami...I’m tired...so very tired...I cannot do this, anymore,” Theresa said quietly, shaking her head. “I–I gotta leave Dakota...but I...I’m so tired...I wanted to see you. I wanted to see all of you before I go....”
“Are you in trouble, Theresa?”
“...Yes.”
“Then why are you here?” Constance demanded, looking up and down the streets. “You put your loved ones in danger–! Your sisters and brother! How dare you?”
“I’m so sorry, mami...please...please forgive me...for all that I’ve done,” Theresa said on a hitched sob, her knees slowly giving out on her as she slumped against the gate. Her fingers were red with the cold, curled stiffly over the metal as she struggled to keep herself composed. Her insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart as her mother scolded her. “I just wanted to see you one more time...I just wanted to...I wanted to be here. I needed you. I needed you all...”
“We cannot have this, Theresa,” Constance said fiercely, fingers digging into her arms. She longed to reach out, to comfort her first born–but she could not. The safety of the family came first. “Get up. Don’t be weak. You need to be strong. You made your decisions, you follow through with them! Don’t back down from them! If you are in trouble, fix it. Go to the police, if you need to. Do not come around here again...”
“Mami...mami...please.. .”
Constance breathed in deeply, feeling it catch as she listened to the shaky pleas of her daughter. She closed her eyes, struggled to stay where she was.
Theresa fought to rise, her eyes wet with her tears as she looked over at her mother. Constance once again locked her eyes with her daughter’s, and Theresa, in frustration over the lack of control over herself, wiped her eyes against her arms, smearing her makeup once more.
“I love you, mami,” she said sadly, swallowing hard. “I love you all. I wish I hadn’t made my mistakes. I wish...I wish I could do things differently, mami. I miss you all. I want to come back, but I understand...I have to go. I just came to say goodbye...”
Constance’s eyes were blurred with tears, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as she gazed impassively at her daughter. Theresa had always been so slender; but the recent hardness of her life had whittled her away. Her fingers were so bony...her face so thin...her heart ached.
Theresa forced her fingers to straighten away from the gate, and she wiped her eyes again. She looked back at her mother, then at the windows that faced them. She could see her sisters and her brother, all of them peering out at her with solemn expressions. Her youngest sister gave a small wave against the glass, her eyes fiercely sad as she stared down at her. Her brother gave her a slight smile, and her sister turned away from her gaze.
Theresa smiled up at them all, then looked back down at her mother. She opened her mouth to speak when Constance’s eyes widened with fear and surprise, her ample frame jerking with movement. Theresa saw that she was looking behind her–she whirled around, breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of four guns being leveled at her from a slowly moving car.
The sharp explosions of rapid gunfire tore through the neighborhood, destroying the peaceful silence, jerking more than one person awake. There came the screech of tires upon pavement as the car sped away, its occupants quickly sinking back into its safety as their mission was completed.
Constance rose from the pavement, staring with wide eyed shock at where her daughter had been standing. She couldn’t see her; couldn’t hear her. With short, panicky gasps, she stumbled over to the gate and looked over, seeing her daughter lying lifelessly against it, her eyes staring vacantly into space.
The neighborhood was once again pierced by another sound, but this one was the heartbreaking wail of an anguished mother.
OooooooooooO
The phone rang suddenly, startling Richie out of his deep sleep. He glared over at the mounted nuisance, and buried his head into his pillow, turning his face so that he could breathe in deeply of Hotstreak’s scent on his sweater. The phone was answered by someone downstairs, and he prepared to fall back asleep when he heard his mother call for him.
Maybe it’s Virgil, he realized, jerking his head up from his arms. He kicked his blankets off and lunged toward the phone, answering it with a pained grimace from the quick movement.
He heard his mother hang up on the other end, and listened to silence. “Hello? V? Is that you?”
“Good morning, beautiful...Did I wake you up? I’m sorry...”
Richie felt every cell of his being freeze as he heard the smirking voice, his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to throw the phone across the room to somehow get rid of the person that tormented him, but he just could not move.
“Did you see my present, ‘baby’? I left it for you to find. Just to show my appreciation for the other night. Y’know, you never did thank me for takin’ care of you.”
Richie’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly, and his fingers clenched the phone, his arm shaking. He wanted to throw it. But he just couldn’t move. His mind was racing with panic, fear and shock as he listened to Ebon speak to him. His gut had twisted painfully, his throat locking tight.
But somewhere, somehow, he was able to lower the phone from his ear as Ebon started to ask him a question. His fingers didn’t function individually; he had to disconnect the call by pressing his entire hand against the display. He stared in silent shock at the wall, millions of questions running through his mind, millions of answers taking them away. His every limb was stiff as he blinked, his ear feeling violated on its own after listening to that man’s voice.
And then, as if someone snapped their fingers, he reacted. He turned and hurled the phone against the door, breathing hard as the loud smack of sound exploded within his room. He heard his father give a startled exclamation downstairs, but he didn’t pay too much attention to it as he turned, feeling light headed as he surveyed his room.
Ebon had said he left a surprise. The very thought made his insides curdle with icy cold fear. Sometime during the night, he had come over. He’d been here while he slept. He was so close to Richie that he could have touched him; could have...could have done something to him.
When he spotted Ebon’s surprise, he felt his face lose color. Richie felt his knees give out at the sight; he couldn’t breathe deeply enough as he stared in wide eyed terror at his desk chair. His hands clutched uselessly at his comforter, and he thought he gave a stupefied cry, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the sight. He felt a strong touch against his lower back, faintly registering that it was Backpack from underneath the bed.
But all he could see was the chair...
His green and orange hoodie was draped over the back of the chair, but the sleeves were carefully laid out over the arms. His brown cargo pants were laid out on the seat, the legs dangling down to the floor in a rumbled heap. His shoelaces had been used to tie each sleeve to the chair arms. But the pants were unbuttoned, unzipped; the fly stood open in a gaping width that allowed him clear sight of his clean boxer briefs that had been tucked within the jeans; as if his clothes were fitting some invisible person.
There was a single sheet of paper. But he didn’t want to look at it. He didn’t want to see what it said.
The entire set up made him want to puke; it was suggestive and it was obvious he was not safe here. Not in his own home. Ebon knew where he lived; he was in the same room, last night; he was there.
His knees shook as he forced himself to his feet, lunging at the scene. He ripped his hoodie from the chair, tossing it aside as he then scraped both pants and underwear from the seat. He was breathing erratically as he flung both articles of clothing away, his fingers fumbling with the shoelaces around the chair’s arms. When he couldn’t get his fingers to separate the neatly tied bows and knots, he began pulling at them, giving sounds of distress when the action merely tightened the restraints rather than loosening them. He finally just kicked the chair over. He reached down to crumble the note into a wad, then ripped the thing apart, paper flying everywhere as he struggled to breathe.
That horrid feeling of being violated once more made his stomach flop violently. He scattered what remained in his hands as he turned away, trying to refocus his thoughts. But it was already racing with the mindlessness of panic and fear, and his chest was tight with the unending feeling of helplessness. He wanted to puke, he wanted to scream. But he did neither as his eyes raced around the room, as if he were able to see where Ebon had been.
Just the thought of knowing the living shadow was there, looking at him while he slept, made him half crazed with fright. For Ebon being there in the same room with him, breathing the same air, was just the same as he’d felt on the rooftop. His limbs were shaking as his eyes touched upon the contents of his desk, looking for abnormalities. It was as if the man had left visible traces of his visit throughout the entire place; his room was infected with Ebon’s presence.
This made Richie freak, giving a startled cry as he made a mad dash for the safety of the hall. He ran into his father, who was coming up to investigate the noises coming from his son’s room, but Richie paid him no attention, too blind with his own panic to acknowledge him.
Chapter Eleven
Ebon stared down at the sleeping blond before him; he heard the panicked beep of something electronic, but he paid it no mind. The glow of the night light illuminated the hollows, straights, dips and curves of Richie’s face, and he took the time to admire the sight before him. He gave a light sound as he turned away from the bed, surveying the contents of the teen’s room. He was careful to keep himself insubstantial–so that he wasn’t making any noise as he walked about.
He could hear the sounds of voices outside the room, located down the hall. Richie’s parents, more than likely; Ebon had deemed them a non-threat as he moved away from the bed.
Looking down at the clean desk, he surveyed the college applications and brochures, and gave a smirk. Turning away from the desk, he looked down at the shoes Richie had been wearing; he crouched, and patiently pulled the laces from the worn O’Neal’s. He tucked the laces into his pocket, then walked on to see what else he could do to further his terrorism of this teen.
He was able to see what he was doing, where he was going, thanks to the night light. He reached out for the closet, and opened the door; softly, gently, as to not rouse the sleeping figure on the bed nearby. It was neat, everything placed in folded piles on designated shelves and racks, with a small dresser crammed within to save space in the room itself. Everything fit neatly, with its own space that made it easy for one to shuffle through.
He inhaled deeply of the scent he’d come to associate Richie with. That lingering trace of mint with cinnamon mixed in made him grin. He reached out, quietly picking through the sweater shirts and hoodies that were hung neatly upon color coordinated hangars. He took out the familiar teal green and orange hoodie, tossing that over his shoulder. He took the hangars out from several shirts, and tossed those onto the floor. He kicked the pile of shirts underneath the bed and replaced the hangars; the reason wasn’t quite definable, but anything to upset a victim made him happy.
From there, he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of matched socks with worn heels. The boy needed new socks. Judging from the exhaustion of the place, Ebon figured the reason why Richie wore worn socks was because he couldn’t afford new ones. Well...Ebon was happy to try and support him in that area. He had plenty of money. He shook his head, tsking quietly as he reached into his back pocket, and withdrew his wallet. There, he tucked a five dollar bill into the pair, and tossed that atop of the others, so that Richie wouldn’t miss it when he opened the drawer.
He opened another, and gave a malicious grin. He picked through the neatly folded underwear with casual interest. He brought a clean pair to his nose, inhaling deeply of detergent and cleanliness. He refolded the material and looked through the drawer until finding a particular set of boxer briefs. He tossed those next to the hoodie he’d taken out earlier.
Opening another drawer produced more shirts. He saw the rack of folded jeans, and shut that drawer, reaching for a pair of pants that sat atop of the rack. Unfolding them, he saw that they were brown cargos, worn at the hems; he grimaced at the ragged state, but tossed those next to the clothes he’d chosen earlier. He placed a hundred dollar bill atop of the rack, figuring Richie needed it more.
Finally, Ebon bent, finding the shoe rack that was crammed into the small space between dresser and wall. At the sight of three pairs of worn shoes, he shook his head again. Then, methodically, he took the laces off of all but one pair. He pulled out the tongues, then mismatched them all except for that one pair.
Shutting the closet door, he repressed the urge to giggle; he knew Richie was not in his right mind if he were sleeping with night lights. He wished he were able to see his face upon seeing Ebon’s redecorating...
He looked down at the clothes he’d gathered, then set to work.
Minutes later, he was grinning proudly upon completion. He found a blank slip of paper and a pen, and wrote out a love note, taking his time in writing something that fit his current mood. He set the completed note next to his ‘decoration’.
He moved back over to the bed, hearing that same infernal beep that made him wonder what that was. He looked down at Richie, then bent carefully over him. He could smell the fresh scent of shampoo, soap and toothpaste. Mixed with the intoxicating smells the blond was already carrying naturally, Ebon breathed in the scent, closing his eyes in rapture at what he took. His hand shifted from behind his back, his fingers shaking slightly as they ghosted over the pale skin. He knew what it felt like; could remember the seemingly baby smoothness of his flesh against his.
He considered jacking off and leaving noticeable traces; but he didn’t want to be that sloppy. As he was pulling away, he noted the sudden grimace of the blond’s features; the clenching of his jaw, the way his fingers gripped his pillow. Ebon had to marvel at his work; because even in dreams, Richie was afraid of him.
That made him very proud, indeed.
He lowered his head, so that his lips were near that delicate shell.
“Dream of me,” he whispered, pulling back, and sinking into the shadows with a light chuckle.
OooooooooooO
At midnight, Theresa returned to the community center with an exhalation of heaviness, rubbing her chilled arms. She needed to pick up some stuff before heading back to her motel room. She heard Shiv arguing with somebody down the hall. She had just taken the stairway when the inky blackness of Ebon’s form materialized in front of her, shooting up from the top stairs. She pulled back with a startled gasp as he solidified, staring down at her with mounting anger.
His eyes gave the impression of a raised eyebrow; she suddenly knew that he had found out about her earlier activities. And it made her stomach clench violently, searing pain lashing throughout her mid-section. She grimaced, one hand creeping up to cover it painfully.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” he asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “Had a hot date?”
She didn’t look away from him as she stepped back, her fingers curling into her stomach as the pain persisted. She had to wince at the violence of it, her features paling considerably. Ebon followed her down the stairs, still with that evil glare.
“What’chu talkin’ about, Ebon?” she finally managed to eke out.
“You know what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, reaching out to grip her jacket, shoving her harshly down the rest of the stairs.
She nearly fell, but managed to stay upright as she reached out for a handhold along the railing. Catching her breath, she looked up at him as he followed her down.
“What the hell?” she exclaimed, her voice rising with collected anger.
“How long have you been talkin’ to him, Theresa?”
“T-talking to w-who?”
“Don’t you fuck with me!” Ebon shouted, getting into her face. “You’ve been friends with that bastard, an’ you’ve been tellin’ him what I been up to! I know you been communicatin’ with him!”
“What are you talkin’ about, Ebon? You crazy!”
“Don’t be talkin’ shit, Theresa. You know I’m right! I know you been talkin’ to Stone!” Ebon snarled, reaching out to grip her jacket. She tried jerking herself out of his grip, but his fingers tightened on the material. Fear made her desperate, and she reached out, slapping him across the face. The move stunned him enough to let go of her jacket, and she stumbled backwards, breathing harshly.
Their shouts had drawn Shiv and the others into the hall, and the purple haired meta looked stunned as he watched his boss advance on Theresa. With a scared expression, he saw Ebon reaching out to grab her ponytail, jerking her off her feet in a violent movement that sent the too-small woman in a spin. Ebon then pinned Theresa against the wall with one hand, and used the other to slap her , the crack of sound obscenely fierce within the stunned silence. Theresa kicked and punched out, shrieking with rising hysteria as she tried to escape the furious meta.
Shiv nervously stepped forward, feeling one of the guys reach out to grip the hem of his shirt, hissing at him to stay out of it. He was torn, struggling with conflicting emotions; wanting to obey his boss and wanting to help his family member. He didn’t want Theresa hurt, but he didn’t want to make Ebon unhappy, either. He could only watch silently as he watched Ebon shake Theresa violently, entirely too big and too strong for the woman that was no match for him. His gut twisted and his knees felt shaky.
“How much did you tell him?” Ebon shouted as he batted her fists away from him.
“I told him nothin’!” she screamed. “I didn’t talk about you! He learned nothin’ from me!”
“Fucking bitch, how long has this been goin’ on? How long?”
“I’ve been tight with him before the Big Bang! Just cuz we run in different crowds, don’t mean that I gotta drop what we have! Let go of me, motherfucker! Let go of me!”
“You sold me out! You sold out what I had to him! I know he gonna use that shit, I know he gonna turn around an’ sell it to someone that wants it!”
“You’re fuckin’ paranoid! Paranoid bastard!”
“B-boss, let g-go of her!” Shiv pleaded, reaching out as he moved forward again, ignoring the hisses behind him.
“Shut the fuck up, Shiv! Theresa, I trusted you,” Ebon then growled, letting go of her jacket and stepping back. Theresa was a mess of furious tears and fright, her face bright red with her previous struggles, her makeup smeared around her eyes. “I fuckin’ trusted you, an’ you sold me out. To him. He ain’t shit, but that’s him. Y’know our history...I’m fuckin’ pissed, Theresa. How dare you? I accepted you, I brought you into this gang. I gave you a home, a future! An’ you fucked it up by fuckin’ around with him!”
“Fuck you, Ebon!” she shouted, jerking her jacket back into place. Her voice was high pitched with her hysteria, and there was blood dripping from her nose. She stanched it with the back of her hand, then furiously reached out to punch at him, snarling when he avoided her fists with ease. “You didn’t give me shit! You gave me something that I didn’t want! You made me into what I am. I hate it! I hate you! I wish I had my family back! But you fucked it over with your stupid ideals, an’ your stupid frontin’! You can’t boss me around no more! I fuckin’ quit! I quit this shit!”
Ebon laughed at her as he reached out, shoving her head against the wall. She reacted by kicking at him, catching him in the knee. The moment the joint gave out, Ebon cursing as he buckled forward, she brought both fists down onto the back of his head, her fingers ensnaring into his corn rows. With a desperate lunge, she used his momentum to bang him face first into the wall. Reacting with a snarl, he leapt at her as she tried to scoot away, his fingers digging into her jacket and a grunt escaping as he pulled her back. She lost her footing, sliding to the floor as he curled his fists and began raining down blows against her vulnerable head. Her arms swept up, trying to block what was being administered.
Shiv leapt at Ebon, wrapping his arms around his neck and yanking him back. Once she was free from the rampage, Theresa was up on her feet and racing for the door. Ebon elbowed Shiv in the gut, forcing the meta to let go of him, and raced after her. Shiv dove at his ankles, bringing the meta down with a determined grunt. Ebon looked back at him as he crashed into the floor, immediately kicking free of the minion. By then, Theresa had escaped the community center, disappearing into the night.
Trying to catch his breath, he looked back at Shiv, who was staring at him with a mixture of fear and horror. Ebon then looked back at the group of guys that had seen the entire thing, all of them turning away to avoid meeting his gaze.
Realizing that he’d lost face, Ebon slowly rose to his feet. It had caused him to lose control, knowing that Theresa was talking with Hotstreak. While he was sure he had the upper hand against the redhead, just the fact that Theresa had gone behind his back and played some sort of house with him made Ebon furious.
He reached up to straighten his clothing, exhaling forcefully as he fought to regain his composure. It made him look like a fool, attacking Theresa like that. He wiped his face, then looked down at Shiv as the other meta hastily crawled back to his feet, staring at him.
“Sorry ‘bout that, man,” he muttered, hearing the others hurriedly leave the room, not wanting to witness anything more. “I...lost control.”
Shiv started to say something, but his lips stayed shut. He didn’t look away from Ebon, too afraid that if he did, the meta would attack him. But he nodded tightly, his jaw clenched as he kept his distance from the living shadow.
“Fuckin’ Theresa,” Ebon then cursed, walking toward the stairway. “Why’d she have to do this shit? Why? What the fuck? Fuckin’ bitch...Shiv, did you know about this?”
“NO!” Shiv shouted, his mind racing furiously. He shook his head, hearing his own voice tremble the way it had on the rooftop that horrid night. He tried clearing his throat, but it didn’t work as he added, “I d-didn’t know nothin’!”
“Yeah...? Well...considering how closely I gotta watch my own back, I wouldn’t be surprised if you been fuckin’ around with that Shebang character,” Ebon said sullenly. He then turned, spearing the meta a furious look. “You haven’t, have you?”
“I haven’t! Ever! I don’t even know who that is!”
“She’s the–never mind. Shiv...you’d tell me if somethin’ was up, right? I mean...you wouldn’t fuck around behind my back?”
Ebon was frustrated with this meta. While Shiv proved loyal and eager to perform his duties upon Ebon’s request, he really had nothing to hold against him. Kangorr had his kids; Theresa had her family. Shiv...Shiv had nothing. And Ebon had to respect him because of his almost mindless actions that brought Ebon the results he wanted. But he didn’t have any sort of hold against him; other than the fact that Shiv seemed scared of him.
“No, no, no...I wouldn’t, Ebon. Honestly! I–I wouldn’t know how to betray you! I...I would never do anything like that!” Shiv said hurriedly, gesturing fiercely. He was frightened, staring at the living shadow and then at the door where Theresa had fled.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Ebon then muttered, withdrawing his cell, and dialing a number. As soon as he heard an answer from the other end, he began spitting out orders. “You know what to do...she headed out. Make sure she don’t talk to anybody.”
Shiv felt his gut curdle, and there was an uncontrollable shake of his frame as he knew what Ebon was ordering–arranging for Theresa’s murder. He felt completely torn as loyalty to his boss and to Theresa pulled him in different directions. As he stood there, feeling heavy and utterly helpless, he hoped that she managed to stay out of sight; that she hid somewhere where Ebon couldn’t find her. That was all he could do for her.
OooooooooooO
Theresa hoped she looked a little presentable as she paused, leaning over to gaze at her reflection in a nearby car’s window. She licked her cold fingers and wiped around her nose, sure that she had scraped away all the dried blood from her previous injury. She had been on the move all night–going to places where she knew Ebon and his cronies couldn’t find her. Her entire body felt weak and exhausted as she pushed herself to move, feeling the various aches on her arms and head where Ebon had struck her.
She was a proud woman; she refused to cry or act weak over the incident. She was determined to get out of Dakota to escape him, but she couldn’t do so without seeing her family one more time.
She missed her mother; her sisters, her little brother. She missed seeing her aunts and uncles, and exchanging stories with her grandparents. She had had a large family that made it a point to gather every Sunday for dinner, and who shared each other’s things with familiar freedom. Her heart ached over them, her entire being wishing that the Big Bang hadn’t happened; that she hadn’t made the decisions that she had.
Because as Talon, she had done some disagreeable things, things that made her family turn their heads with shame. When she turned human and attempted to come back home, eager for the warmth and love of her family, her mother had told her that she was a risk. That the men she was with would use them against her. She had never felt so much pain as she had that day, staring with teary-eyed disbelief at the woman that gave birth to her, that had cherished and nourished her, turning her away.
Theresa had been shamed, hurt, depressed over her family’s rejection. She’d gone back to Ebon, and had lost dignity in herself by asking to return to his ‘family’. She hadn’t anywhere else to go; she didn’t know what else to do. Ebon had smirked and allowed her back without a comment; but he’d mentioned how heartbreaking it must be to lose what she’d held dear. The thing about the situation was that he never made fun of her; he never brought up that awful incident; and in that she felt grateful for him, brainwashed by the false security and comfort she replaced in the loss of her family’s.
But last night told her that she wasn’t safe here in Dakota, anymore. She had to get out. But she just could not leave until she saw her family.
Her stomach was aching once more; burning with agony that forced her to stop in mid-step, curling her arms around her middle. She panted as she tried to regain coherent thought, trying to think over the immense pain. She reached out to support herself against a street lamp, closing her eyes, taking even breaths. When the pain subsided, she slowly straightened, exhaling deeply. She began walking again, seeing her mother’s house up ahead. The neighborhood was quiet in these morning hours; somewhere beyond the block, a garbage truck was making its daily run, and she could hear the voices of a man and woman arguing from a nearby apartment building.
She licked her dry lips, her eyes drooping with exhaustion as she quietly made her way to the front gate. She stared at the cream-colored one story, taking in the familiar lattices, the porch swing, the decorative flower pots that lined the stairs. The porch was swept clean of snow, with kitty litter scattered over the wooden surface, and the reinforced screen door was painted brightly with vibrant suns that hadn’t been there the last time she’d come here.
She had taken her home for granted before the Big Bang; had scoffed at her family and made the usual teenage decisions that hurt her mother.
She hadn’t realized what she had until she lost it becoming Talon.
She reached out, curling her small fingers over the iced over gate that led to the front walk. Her heart ached, wanting the comfort and warmth her family could provide her as she stood out in the cold. She heard the slide of a door lock, and her breath caught in her throat. Anxiously, she watched as her mother emerged from the front door, dressed warmly in a flowery trench, her feet stuffed into a pair of her son’s sneakers. Theresa locked eyes with her, her fingers tightening on the gate as she waited for her mother to address her.
Constance walked off the porch, her sad, tired eyes locked on her daughter’s, and shuffled over to the gate at which she stood. Theresa swallowed hard as she felt pent up tears, anxiety and relief build up within her throat, making it tight. Constance wrapped her arms tight around her ample frame, and she took in her daughter’s appearance with a worn expression.
Theresa had lost a lot of weight over the past two years–frighteningly thin, pale, bruised and obviously tired. Constance had suspected that her daughter had dabbled in drugs; she looked like one of them, those drug-users that preyed upon the neighborhood, selling death to innocents.
Her own throat was tight as she ached to reach out to touch her; but she wouldn’t dare. She knew Theresa’s friends were people of evil nature; she had to protect the family. If she let Theresa in, those people would come looking at them. They would harm them to get at Theresa. She couldn’t risk it.
But how her heart hurt.
“Theresa...”
“Mami. ..Mami, I’m sorry,” Theresa whispered, leaning against the gate, her tears blurring her vision.
Constance shook her head slightly; her auburn hair was pinned against the back of her scalp, the way it had always been. She could feel curious eyes upon them; the others were awake, and were watching from the safety of the windows behind her.
“Theresa, I am, too...I cannot allow you back here,” she said softly, giving her daughter a firm look.
“Mami...I’m tired...so very tired...I cannot do this, anymore,” Theresa said quietly, shaking her head. “I–I gotta leave Dakota...but I...I’m so tired...I wanted to see you. I wanted to see all of you before I go....”
“Are you in trouble, Theresa?”
“...Yes.”
“Then why are you here?” Constance demanded, looking up and down the streets. “You put your loved ones in danger–! Your sisters and brother! How dare you?”
“I’m so sorry, mami...please...please forgive me...for all that I’ve done,” Theresa said on a hitched sob, her knees slowly giving out on her as she slumped against the gate. Her fingers were red with the cold, curled stiffly over the metal as she struggled to keep herself composed. Her insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart as her mother scolded her. “I just wanted to see you one more time...I just wanted to...I wanted to be here. I needed you. I needed you all...”
“We cannot have this, Theresa,” Constance said fiercely, fingers digging into her arms. She longed to reach out, to comfort her first born–but she could not. The safety of the family came first. “Get up. Don’t be weak. You need to be strong. You made your decisions, you follow through with them! Don’t back down from them! If you are in trouble, fix it. Go to the police, if you need to. Do not come around here again...”
“Mami...mami...please.. .”
Constance breathed in deeply, feeling it catch as she listened to the shaky pleas of her daughter. She closed her eyes, struggled to stay where she was.
Theresa fought to rise, her eyes wet with her tears as she looked over at her mother. Constance once again locked her eyes with her daughter’s, and Theresa, in frustration over the lack of control over herself, wiped her eyes against her arms, smearing her makeup once more.
“I love you, mami,” she said sadly, swallowing hard. “I love you all. I wish I hadn’t made my mistakes. I wish...I wish I could do things differently, mami. I miss you all. I want to come back, but I understand...I have to go. I just came to say goodbye...”
Constance’s eyes were blurred with tears, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as she gazed impassively at her daughter. Theresa had always been so slender; but the recent hardness of her life had whittled her away. Her fingers were so bony...her face so thin...her heart ached.
Theresa forced her fingers to straighten away from the gate, and she wiped her eyes again. She looked back at her mother, then at the windows that faced them. She could see her sisters and her brother, all of them peering out at her with solemn expressions. Her youngest sister gave a small wave against the glass, her eyes fiercely sad as she stared down at her. Her brother gave her a slight smile, and her sister turned away from her gaze.
Theresa smiled up at them all, then looked back down at her mother. She opened her mouth to speak when Constance’s eyes widened with fear and surprise, her ample frame jerking with movement. Theresa saw that she was looking behind her–she whirled around, breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of four guns being leveled at her from a slowly moving car.
The sharp explosions of rapid gunfire tore through the neighborhood, destroying the peaceful silence, jerking more than one person awake. There came the screech of tires upon pavement as the car sped away, its occupants quickly sinking back into its safety as their mission was completed.
Constance rose from the pavement, staring with wide eyed shock at where her daughter had been standing. She couldn’t see her; couldn’t hear her. With short, panicky gasps, she stumbled over to the gate and looked over, seeing her daughter lying lifelessly against it, her eyes staring vacantly into space.
The neighborhood was once again pierced by another sound, but this one was the heartbreaking wail of an anguished mother.
OooooooooooO
The phone rang suddenly, startling Richie out of his deep sleep. He glared over at the mounted nuisance, and buried his head into his pillow, turning his face so that he could breathe in deeply of Hotstreak’s scent on his sweater. The phone was answered by someone downstairs, and he prepared to fall back asleep when he heard his mother call for him.
Maybe it’s Virgil, he realized, jerking his head up from his arms. He kicked his blankets off and lunged toward the phone, answering it with a pained grimace from the quick movement.
He heard his mother hang up on the other end, and listened to silence. “Hello? V? Is that you?”
“Good morning, beautiful...Did I wake you up? I’m sorry...”
Richie felt every cell of his being freeze as he heard the smirking voice, his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to throw the phone across the room to somehow get rid of the person that tormented him, but he just could not move.
“Did you see my present, ‘baby’? I left it for you to find. Just to show my appreciation for the other night. Y’know, you never did thank me for takin’ care of you.”
Richie’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly, and his fingers clenched the phone, his arm shaking. He wanted to throw it. But he just couldn’t move. His mind was racing with panic, fear and shock as he listened to Ebon speak to him. His gut had twisted painfully, his throat locking tight.
But somewhere, somehow, he was able to lower the phone from his ear as Ebon started to ask him a question. His fingers didn’t function individually; he had to disconnect the call by pressing his entire hand against the display. He stared in silent shock at the wall, millions of questions running through his mind, millions of answers taking them away. His every limb was stiff as he blinked, his ear feeling violated on its own after listening to that man’s voice.
And then, as if someone snapped their fingers, he reacted. He turned and hurled the phone against the door, breathing hard as the loud smack of sound exploded within his room. He heard his father give a startled exclamation downstairs, but he didn’t pay too much attention to it as he turned, feeling light headed as he surveyed his room.
Ebon had said he left a surprise. The very thought made his insides curdle with icy cold fear. Sometime during the night, he had come over. He’d been here while he slept. He was so close to Richie that he could have touched him; could have...could have done something to him.
When he spotted Ebon’s surprise, he felt his face lose color. Richie felt his knees give out at the sight; he couldn’t breathe deeply enough as he stared in wide eyed terror at his desk chair. His hands clutched uselessly at his comforter, and he thought he gave a stupefied cry, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the sight. He felt a strong touch against his lower back, faintly registering that it was Backpack from underneath the bed.
But all he could see was the chair...
His green and orange hoodie was draped over the back of the chair, but the sleeves were carefully laid out over the arms. His brown cargo pants were laid out on the seat, the legs dangling down to the floor in a rumbled heap. His shoelaces had been used to tie each sleeve to the chair arms. But the pants were unbuttoned, unzipped; the fly stood open in a gaping width that allowed him clear sight of his clean boxer briefs that had been tucked within the jeans; as if his clothes were fitting some invisible person.
There was a single sheet of paper. But he didn’t want to look at it. He didn’t want to see what it said.
The entire set up made him want to puke; it was suggestive and it was obvious he was not safe here. Not in his own home. Ebon knew where he lived; he was in the same room, last night; he was there.
His knees shook as he forced himself to his feet, lunging at the scene. He ripped his hoodie from the chair, tossing it aside as he then scraped both pants and underwear from the seat. He was breathing erratically as he flung both articles of clothing away, his fingers fumbling with the shoelaces around the chair’s arms. When he couldn’t get his fingers to separate the neatly tied bows and knots, he began pulling at them, giving sounds of distress when the action merely tightened the restraints rather than loosening them. He finally just kicked the chair over. He reached down to crumble the note into a wad, then ripped the thing apart, paper flying everywhere as he struggled to breathe.
That horrid feeling of being violated once more made his stomach flop violently. He scattered what remained in his hands as he turned away, trying to refocus his thoughts. But it was already racing with the mindlessness of panic and fear, and his chest was tight with the unending feeling of helplessness. He wanted to puke, he wanted to scream. But he did neither as his eyes raced around the room, as if he were able to see where Ebon had been.
Just the thought of knowing the living shadow was there, looking at him while he slept, made him half crazed with fright. For Ebon being there in the same room with him, breathing the same air, was just the same as he’d felt on the rooftop. His limbs were shaking as his eyes touched upon the contents of his desk, looking for abnormalities. It was as if the man had left visible traces of his visit throughout the entire place; his room was infected with Ebon’s presence.
This made Richie freak, giving a startled cry as he made a mad dash for the safety of the hall. He ran into his father, who was coming up to investigate the noises coming from his son’s room, but Richie paid him no attention, too blind with his own panic to acknowledge him.