Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Sniper Part 8

Part...8 I think of Sniper. I am getting into it again. Haha I am excited for the next scene. Can't wait to finally resolve everything. There will probably be only a couple more parts to Sniper. Then I will have to find something else to write. I can honestly say that I haven't had this much fun writing in a long time. Thanks to all of you who keep coming back for more. You make this worth the work. I may never publish a book, and I may never meet any of you, but if no one ever sees these, I know that you guys have. One-Thousand, Two-Hundred people have seen my stories, and that's enough for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Enjoy.

Part 8, Sniper

“I can’t see anything.” Panic splashed through Anabelle’s words. “I can’t see anything!” She screamed.
Torment pulsated through her body, drawing her howls further into the void that was her prison.
When her eyes opened, she saw only a blood-drenched version of reality.
Blood. Blüd. He was here. He was here and he was hurting them. Everyone. The screams. The screams.
Over and over Anabelle cried out Alex’s name, hoping he had escaped so he could save her again. Guilt poured into her like a waterfall. He had already saved her several times over; by no means was he obligated to do it again.
He had no reason to.
“No one is coming for you, my dear.” as if reading her mind, Blüd spoke the words that she was too afraid to put to thought herself.
He kept coming back. She couldn’t shake his voice from her head. Her words quaked when she spoke. “Let me die.” she rasped. Even speaking sent showers of pain cascading over her body.
Blüd laughed that terrifying laugh again.
“Please,” she whispered, “Please let me die.”
“Never.” The syringe was dripping again, hovering inside her pale skin, trickling liquid into her bloodstream, slowly draining her of her life blood.
She knew the dreams would come soon. She could see them in the corners of her eyes, the breath that shallowly emerged from her rising chest. She heard them in the rasp of her voice and in the creak of the door as it opened and closed.
Despite the panicked thoughts that streaked through her mind, one kept materializing. She had to escape. She had to live. When her mother had died, her father had drowned in drink. He never really came back up. She had to survive. Her death would be the end of her father. She couldn't leave him like that. Memories zipped through her mind: her father stumbling into the house after a night of drinking, her mother lying pale and dead on the bed that had once been white-now covered in red blood. And Alex.
She had to help him. She had to find Alex.
Anabelle wrenched her arms up and winced as she felt the old leather bite into her already-raw wrists.
Pain erupted from her throat in a scream. With everything she had, she threw her arms up and dug her nails into the restraints. A crack snapped through her ears and the pain grew into something worse than she had ever felt. She stumbled from the bed.
The lock turned. she struggled behind the door, gripping the wall to steady herself. The door opened, concealing her, and as the figure entered, she slammed the door. The man cried out as the structure slammed into his unprotected temple. Cradling his punctured skull, he turned on her.
Anabelle quickly swiveled out the exit, shutting the man in. He yelled incomprehensibly and banged on the metal separating them.
She spun around. Three choices. Left. Right. Forward. Where did she go now?
+
The boat rumbled underneath Alex’s pained feet, causing him to shift uncomfortably from side to side. His heard thrummed in his chest. Anabelle was close and he knew exactly where she was. Blüd Enterprise. The old building where all this started.
James had wanted to come, but his legs were getting worse, and there was no way he could have come with them without slowing them down. No, this was something he had to do alone. Unaided.
Water splashed up into his face. Alex sighed with pleasure as the drops cooled his fevered face. The air that rushed into him blew his face back from his eyes, giving him a heroic look that he didn’t feel.
An hour later, he arrived. Stepping onto the land, he gazed up at the once-glorious construct. Gloomy boards covered the shattered glass windows, nails protruding from the ends. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the rescue. He went over his plan: Get Anabelle, get Simon, get out.
Then, a scream shot through the air. His eyes flew open, and he jumped into action.