Author: Syrai
Fandom: Original // Anguish Series

Rating: T (PG-13) for now
Genre: Fantasy // Sci-fi

Status: WiP

Summary: Second part of “Anguish series” - sequel to ‘Shades of Truth.’ Set about three years after the incidents of SoT. (You might want to read it to truly understand what’s going on in here) Romy’s life changes dramatically when the hidden witch gene seems to be awakening and all the sudden, she becomes the prey being hunted by her own friends. Now the question is, can she still be saved or will her mother’s fate be also hers? 

Disclaimer: Mine. Yes, mine. I made it up. I should be getting money out of it, like loads, I should be rich by now… but for some unknown reason I’m not. Beats me. Life’s just cruel like that.

 

 

A/N: Ohkay, I must admit, this time my biggest muse probably was Poets of the Fall and their songs called ‘Illusion and Dream’ and ‘Sleep.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Awakening_

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2

 

 

 

 

 

Every day, I see children running around the streets with dirty clothes and toy guns and I wonder if they’ll ever know even half of what I know. Wonder if the toy guns change into real ones one of these days; if they’re going to be members of some whacky gang and start putting people down. Putting them down like dogs. Wake up from your reality and try the real, bitter taste of the world. Turn on your TV and it’s all you see in the news. Teenagers beating the living crap out of each others; out of their friends just for fun or because of jealousy and I keep asking myself what has happened to this world? Where did our parents go wrong or was it their parents?

 

 

A young, black boy runs across the street passing me and Trey by as we walk towards the bar. Crichton, he doesn’t even glance at the young boy but I can’t stop myself from looking over my shoulder as if to make sure he was real, not just some image my mind makes up. He’s there, wearing a dirty t-shirt and shorts that reveal skinny legs. The boy holds his toy gun to his chest, as if he was sneaking through dangerous area and then, all the sudden another young boy, white though runs to the scene with a same-looking gun. “I killed you. HA! You died!” He, the new boy yells pointing the gun to the smaller one’s face and he is forced to go lie down on his stomach accepting his loss. “Shit”, the boy mumbles, fierce. Hold your language! You can’t win every time, dear, get used to it. I’d like to say it, but I don’t make a sound. It’s not my place to raise other people’s children.

 

 

“Come on Parker”, Trey rushes me grabbing my arm and pulls me towards the bar without waiting for a reply. Fighting free from his grip would be pointless and I suppose I don’t even have a reason why I should do it. It’d be pretty stupid, yeah. So instead, I let him lead me to the seedy door of the horrible looking building while I’m thinking how many people have puked their guts out outside this bar after spending hours sitting there? Not a pleasant thought. “You ready?” He asks, hand on the door handle. Yeah sure, let’s go get ourselves killed; it’s not like I’d have anything better to do and, besides, I always knew I’d die young.

 

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

 

“Here we go then.” One twist and the door slowly open making a terrible creaking sound. It feels like everybody’s eyes were on us but the reality is different. No one even so much as lifts their chins to look at us when we enter, but that’s a good thing from our point of view. When you think of it, you realise there even ain’t that many people in the bar - only three to begin with. Dim light illuminates the small room and the smoke hits my eyes making them wet instantly. Gosh, have these people never heard of air-conditioning? The first thought that comes to your mind when you see a place like this is… hideaway, a place for people to blend in and forget. Get forgotten.

 

 

Without saying anything, Trey walks to the bar counter and I just follow him in silence. Sure hope that he knows what he’s doing, since I’ve never ever been in a place like this, well, not after my teenage-years that is and lots have changed during these years. He sits on the bar stool and gestures me to do the same, but I just shook my head refusing to obey. He rolls his eyes and turns to look at the bartender who by the way, looks freakier than any other bartender I’ve seen. Perhaps freaky isn’t the right word. Stunning would be more like it. It’s a woman, a young one might add, with obviously died blonde hair but the eyes… Her bright blue eyes make her look like a painting... something unreal, from another world. They’re like ice.

 

 

“What can I get you two?” She asks leaning down to the counter, supporting herself with her elbows and flashes a mysterious smile. I find myself almost wishing her breasts ain’t going to fall out of her top for I’m not sure I’d like my partner’s reaction to that. The look she gives Trey makes me want to grab her head and smack it down against the counter but as I’m not a total savage, I don’t do it. Just stare at her coldly trying to make my point clear…. I blink. Romy, sweetie, what point would that be again?

 

 

My head’s too messed up for me to follow its train of thoughts, I see. Moving on, moving on.

 

 

“We’re looking for Pete Fuller”, Trey starts with a husky, sugarish voice that sends shivers down to my spine. Bastard. Bet he’s doing it on purpose. “Seen him?”

 

 

Damnit. I’m not feeling well, at all. Trey might have actually been right when he said I look like shit, it’s exactly how I feel. All the sudden I have to grab the edge of the counter just to keep myself standing but he doesn’t notice it. Of course not, duh. His attention is pointed towards the beauty behind the desk and realising that doesn’t make me feel any better. My head is practically about to explode, I feel hot as if I had burning fever but I’m doing all I can to keep it under control. I inhale deep but the air burns my throat.

 

 

“Sorry, think you’ve got the wrong place. I ain’t ever heard of him”, she says. Though something flashes in her eyes, the smile still stays. Great actress maybe, but still not very believable, especially after all those hours spent in psychology lessons our training required. Being a hunter, you have to know how to read people and see the signs to be sure they’re not lying to your face. Of course, even that training can fail you. You maybe see the signs but you don’t want to believe them. Maybe that’s what happened with my dad? Maybe he just refused to see them and that’s the reason I’m here, in this very point. Don’t know. Doesn’t matter, does it?   

 

 

“You know all your customers?” Trey questions and the woman throws her head back, laughing softly. Okay, definitely sensing some flirting vibes in the air. Quit it damnit, we’re working. Am I annoyed because of the woman’s lame attempts of because Trey seems to respond? “Look around you pal, it’s not some fancy restaurant I have here. The people here know me and I know them. Regulars mostly and trust me when I say, I dunno who Pete Fuller is so I don’t think I can help you.” 

 

 

Now it’s his turn to give out a soft, sarcastic laugh. “And I suppose even if you did know him, you wouldn’t give the info out, now would you?”

 

 

The woman nods, impressed maybe. She doesn’t look like a woman who’d be used to having a verbal conversation with a male of his own species, not that it’d be her fault. I’m sure she’d be more than capable of doing so but it’s the other gender that isn’t. “Got that right, sweetheart. I don’t kiss and tell…” Why does that bring a whole another image to my mind which involves a lot of sweat, rolling and, you know, kissing? I thought she was a bartender. I would roll my eyes if I had the energy to do so.

 

 

“It’d be bad for my business. Speaking of which, could I get anything to you and your girl?”

 

“No thanks”, I reply with a cold voice before Trey has the chance to answer and humiliate me by saying I’m his sister or something alike. I don’t want him telling people we have ‘a thing’ going on, but I don’t like him telling people that we don’t, either. Slap me. I glance around us. No fancy restaurant, indeed. If I was a witch as rich as Patrick Foley I sure as hell would not spend my time in a bar this… shitty. Though, the atmosphere does seem just fine. Relaxed. People come here to meet the same old faces, to talk the same old conversations and they do it because they like it. Yes, I’m sure this is the place where they escape when the wife’s is nagging and the dinner tastes burnt. When the laundry ain’t done; no game on TV and there’s absolutely no beer in the fridge. It’s the perfect place in case you want to hide from the world for few hours and just be.

 

 

“He’s not here.” I’m stating the obvious only to catch his attention, even if it’s just for a second. Besides, he’s not anywhere to be seen anyway but who says he’s not here, hiding? I bet the bitch knows exactly where he is but doesn’t want to tell us. Trey claps his hands against the counter and gets to his feet. “Alright Miss, I think we’re done then.” Finally.

 

 

Just as Trey turns around, I see the door opening. The breath gets stuck into my throat with the thought it could be him, it could be Patrick. And what do you know?

 

 

It is Patrick.

 

 

Realising it’s the same familiar face I saw 9 months ago entering the room just makes me want to laugh but the first thing I can even think of doing is knocking him down with a barstool to keep him from disappearing again. However, I forsake the thought as quickly as it came. He stands there on the doorway, holding the door open and I see a young red-haired woman walking in. The door slams shut and the silence is only broken by the woman’s rattling giggle. One look and I know they’re related.

 

 

Morgan Foley.

 

 

Trey’s the first one to make his movie by pulling out his gun and yelling the typical “freeze” phrase which gets the attention of both of the new-comers. Only then I remember my own gun and aiming the barrel towards their direction, I step closer. “Don’t move.”

 

 

Patrick, he doesn’t look like a witch, really doesn’t. For one he’s a guy and his hair is red, well, more like orange and definitely not as burning red as Morgan’s. He’s tall and skinny, nerdish-looking pale fellow and his appearance hasn’t changed that much. He looks a bit more like an adult than a little boy and it’s only been 9 months since I last saw him but still, his appearance doesn’t match his age.

 

 

Morgan on the other hand looks a lot older than she is. Assuming this is Morgan that is. We never saw any pictures for some reason, but when you put her next to Patrick, you just know they’re family. The records say she’s 18 but the female figure in front of me seems to belong to someone over 25, at least. Boy I wish I had looked like that when I was younger, it would’ve saved me from many humiliating events with me trying to sneak into a bar. After few seconds of intense staring the thought suddenly hits me - her eyes are the perfect copy of the eyes behind us. The girl has the bartender’s icy blue eyes, there’s no doubt about that. Not a big deal but just something I noticed.

 

 

“What is this Rickie?” She speaks with shaky voice never removing her gaze from us.

 

 

Rickie, who the fuck is Rickie?

 

 

“I have no idea”, Patrick replies, hands in the air. Oh he’s Rickie? Some fancy nickname of his I see. Whatever.

 

 

“You two are coming with us-” Trey announces which as expected doesn’t seem to please neither Patrick nor Morgan. Morgan doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on anyway, but there’s a look in Patrick eyes that tells me he knows exactly what’s happening and why. No matter how old Morgan looks, she’s still the naïve little girl, isn’t she? I can hear the woman behind the counter move suddenly. Without turning, I glance over my shoulder and my gun moves to stare at her face. She freezes. Good.

 

 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

 

 

She glares at me looking like she’d be ready to attack me any minute but I don’t care. Let her. I’ll break her to pieces within seconds… even now that I’m feeling more or less sick. Confident is the word of my day. “Leave them alone, they’ve done nothing to you.” It’s almost like a command but yet there’s also a pleading to be heard. The question my mind desires to ask is if she’s another member of the Foley family… or am I just imagining things?

 

 

“I’ve seen you before”, Patrick blurts out examining my face. His voice is calm, steady somehow… almost as if he had already accepted his fate. But I know he hasn’t. He isn’t ready to give up and let us take him. No, he’ll fight. His eyes are too passionate – too full of life. “No you haven’t”, Trey throws in as if I couldn’t speak for myself. Occasionally I find it sweet, now it’s only annoying.  

 

 

“Yes I have”, he insists, “You’re Julia Parker.”

 

 

Well, this surely isn’t a surprise, now is it? Nope, I remember very clearly telling Winch this might happen because he has seen my face before. Stupid of him to put me out there when there’s a chance I might be recognized and the word might get out, I think but I know this is my job and this is how it sometimes goes. Still, I say: “No I’m not.”

 

 

“Yes you are.”

 

 

I sigh wiping off sweat from my forehead. Alright, denying my ‘true’ identity is useless now. “Fine”, I admit smirking, “but you honestly didn’t think I could live with the income I get from those books?”

 

He looks surprised which amuses me. ”Well yeah, they’re good.” Though his tone of voice sounds very honest and convincing I can’t help but doubt. Is this his scheme? You know, is he trying to confuse me so they’ll be able to hit and flee? Not a chance golden boy, I’m not that easy. “Honestly, they are”, he adds when I don’t say anything and this time his reply actually makes me a bit taken aback and a bit embarrassed too. I’m not used to receiving this kind of attention, especially not from the enemies. This by far is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with a witch I’m hunting but it’s ok, at least I’m not bored.

 

 

“Well, thanks, I suppose.”

 

 

Trey clears his throat drawing my attention back to where it belongs. “Hey, can we maybe perhaps get back to the real subject here?” What? You’re the only one who can build a conversation with an enemy?

 

”Whatever. Patrick Foley, we’re taking you to custody whether you like it or not. For your own good I’d advice you to think twice before you try to do anything stupid”, I say with a lot nicer voice hoping it’ll help bend him. “Your sister might end up hurt or worse.”

 

”Not going to read my rights to me?”  Alright, there’s obviously a huge gap between female witches and male witches that I’ve never been able to experience myself before. Perhaps because I’ve never ever met a male witch before in my life. With females it’s always crying and whining and being all stupid. This one here, he stands in front of us not showing even the smallest sign of fear or even hatred.

 

 

There are basically two kinds of witches I’ve met, females though so could be this is some kind of male thing, I dunno. Anyway, there are the ones that have just lived through the mutation and are still extremely confused and, well, crazy. Psychotic. They’re the bastards that kill everyone and everything because they don’t know how to handle their new powers and they’re our primary target. They don’t beg for their lives and they don’t cry in front of you – all they do is announce their superiority over you till the minute the bullet finally smashes their brain and silences them. In time they usually settle down and learn to control themselves and their powers. More importantly, they learn how to stay out of sight and kill without being noticed. Yeah and then there are the ones that have already passed this phase and these are the tricky ones. Those suckers can act, like really act. They pretend they aren’t what you say they are and they cry and beg for mercy and when you’re about to pull the trigger you can’t help but wonder if the machines are mistaken… if this really isn’t a witch. That’s where my ability to read people comes handy and the training you’ve go is what keeps your emotions apart of it all.

 

 

But Patrick, he’s neither and it concerns me, because… I know he’s a witch. But yet, I can’t read him; he seems like a normal person and it makes me wonder how many times I’ve passed a dirty witch when walking down the street. How many times have I shopped in a grocery store where witches have been right there next to me, because I can’t recognize them from the crowd anymore? Does it mean I’m losing my touch or are they just blending in better month after month? The headache my head’s trying to silence just keeps pounding louder and louder.    

 

 

“So, are you?”

”We ain’t cops”, Trey finally bothers to answer, “We’re hunters.”

 

 

“And you’re hunted”, I add maliciously. These are the moments I’m living for, only not this time. While my mind’s already celebrating the victory, my body’s too exhausted to even stand straight. Tired. Damn Trey for throwing my pills away!

 

 

“Your sister is coming with us, too. She needs to be examined.” I hear Trey explaining what’ll happen next. Technically, it’s not like it would be needed for us to explain them anything, in fact it says in our orders that we shouldn’t, but somehow it feels fairer that way. They’re not humans, fine, but when they don’t know what’s going on usually just grows their will to fight and it’s something we don’t need.    Besides, those few drunken bums the bar holds inside probably doesn’t even remember the incident tomorrow.

 

 

“Why?” Why? The question blows me off for I didn’t expect him to ask it, witches seldom do. As usual, Trey’s not affected by it; always giving cold face to the bad guys. “Not your fucking concern.”

 

 

Why hasn’t Trey shot him yet? Why haven’t I? Our orders clearly said Patrick Foley was to be eliminated and there he is, standing in front of us… still breathing the same air we are. I can’t answer my own question for I honestly don’t know why.

 

 

Suddenly the beating in my ears grows to meet unbearable measures and it hurts; hurts so much that the gun I’m holding falls down and a second after, so do I. I fall onto my knees. Fuck! Trey’s concerned eyes turn to look at me, which he knows is a bad idea but doesn’t seem to care at the moment. So, as expected using our defence’s weak moment, Patrick swings the door open and pushes his sister through it to the street telling her to run as fast as she can. And she does, I can hear her footsteps; first hesitating, wondering whether to run or stay with her brother but it only takes another loud yell from Patrick’s direction to get her run faster.

 

 

Like in a slow-motion film, I see Patrick turn to us, raise his hand towards Trey who’s still looking at me and I know what he’s about to do even before I see the flash coming through his hand.  No! Without actually thinking what I’m doing I raise my own hand towards him and the stream of light coming closer to us gets stopped… How?

 

 

Patrick looks to be as confused as I am and Trey doesn’t seem to follow it either. There’s something flickering around us, like we’d be inside a huge soap bubble. My body’s aching, every spot tickles and itches and the blood inside my veins feels to be hotter than my skin can bear. The knowledge of what’s happening to me makes me cry, but the tears stay away. Feels like I’m drying from inside. It’s happening, isn’t it?

 

 

“How the hell did you…? You’re a witch?” Patrick shakes his head, obviously not believing his own eyes. Unlike every order and rule ever given, Trey lets go of his gun and kneels down to me. Stupid guy! Are you forgetting everything they’ve ever taught you!? You’re supposed to go get him, capture him! Kill him before he runs away and tells everything what he’s seen… Get him!

 

 

But Trey’s not doing what my mind tells him to do, but then again, neither is Patrick. He’s not running away as I thought he would, he’s just standing there watching me suffer. The more I try to ignore the painful feeling filling my senses, the more it hurts and the minute I feel Trey’s arm clutching me, my body falls against his. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak. Almost like someone would’ve stolen my voice.

 

 

“What’s happening to her?” Trey asks, but the question’s not pointed at me. Patrick comes closer as if he had already forgotten we’re here to kill him. “She’s changing”, the woman behind the counter says quietly, “the gene’s awakening.” I should be surprised, but I’m not. I saw it coming, feared it.

 

 

I’m slipping, slipping to somewhere. My eyes won’t stay open, but when I close them it’s not darkness I see. Images of fire and symbols I’ve never seen before, faces and buildings I don’t recognize. A whole different world behind my closed eyelids, one I do not wish to be part of. This is my world, here with Trey and Raven. Not there.

 

 

I can breathe now, but the words are still stuck in my throat. The fire beneath my skin’s making me sweat so badly that it feels like there’s not a drop of fluid in me anymore.  Suddenly unknown pair of hands touches my hand, grabs is the term I’d use, and I’m gently being pulled away from Trey. “Get away from me”, he growls and my eyes snap open. It’s Patrick who’s pushing him away while speaking to the person to whom my back’s now leaning against. I don’t have strength to draw myself away.

 

 

“Kaylee, we gotta get her to the tank. Something’s wrong with her.”

 

 

“I know”, the familiar voice comes from behind me, “my hands are practically burning.” Kaylee, her name is Kaylee. Kaylee Foley I believe. Such a lovely name; almost too lovely for someone so… wicked.

 

 

I see how Trey tries to nudge Patrick farther away from him, but it’s not really working. “What you doing to her?” For the first time ever I’m pretty sure Trey looks to be panicking for not knowing what’s happening around him; what’s happening to me. Whenever he tries to crawl closer to hold me, Patrick pushes him off. No, I need him, don’t do that! Maybe he’s trying to punish Trey, he did point a gun to him and his sister after all… but why would he help me after I did the same? I don’t get it. Is he trying to kill me? Is it normal that I feel like laughing, laughing my guts out. After everything I’ve done, after everything I’ve achieved, this is where I end up. Life as told has a one sick sense of humour and I’m not following.

 

 

 

“None of your concern”, he spits and when Trey again tries to move closer he snaps:  “Stop that! You’re not helping! Let us do this since we know what we’re doing, ok?”

 

”As far as I can tell you might be doing this to her right now!” Trey yells angrily and Patrick snorts. “If we wanted to kill her, we would’ve done it already. Now shut up.”

 

 

I’m being carried, yeah. Even though my eyes are open I can’t see anything, not clearly anyway. The room’s spinning wildly. Weird how my mind still seems to be working without any kind of issues and everything else is complete chaos… disorder…  Tangled up with my reality and that scaring dream world.

 

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

 

I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m really here. What my eyes are seeing, my ears hearing, my nose smelling and my senses feeling… it’s just not possible. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this! Fuck. It’s the only word strong enough that my mind’s able to form to express my feelings. Fuck it all, that’s what I’m saying.

 

 

When I was a little girl I believed that tooth fairies do exist and that the world is flat. No matter how many times my father tried to explain me that the world in fact is round I just didn’t believe it. I mean, hello, the world cannot be round because otherwise we’d fall down and we’d all be hovering in space! When I was a little girl I was also so sure that I would get married and have dozens of children with hazel eyes and brown curls and that the first word they’d ever learn would be spooky. Then again, I also thought sharks live in lakes.  

 

 

Usually kids are afraid of death. You know, when someone they love dies they just go hide into a corner and play with their toys and pretend it never happened. How can you explain to a child his pet has died and gone to heaven when all he asks is if the poor thing is coming back soon? The concept of death is very difficult for a child and you can’t blame them. Most grown-ups still refuse to accept the fact you can’t run from it. Well no, you can - you can postpone it all you want but in the end you can’t stop it from happening. Children, when they understand what dying means they are scared of growing old and dying. Like there’s nothing between it. First you’re a child for 10 to 12 years and then you grow old and die.

 

 

I’m not afraid to die, but I’m afraid what they’ll do to Trey. I’m afraid he’ll die.

 

 

Exactly two hours ago I woke up in this room – a room furnished with nothing else than with the bed I was lying on. The one I’m sitting on right now knees bent, leaning against the cold wall behind my back. There’s no windows, no tables, no chairs, no nothing – just the bed and the damn uncomfortable mattress it has on top of it. Not a guest room I’d say. Well, I’m not a prisoner they said, I’m not being held here against my will… except for a little time. Few hours should be over soon. Yeah, just few hours to make sure I’m alright, he said, just to make sure I’m stable. To make sure I don’t go killing people. 

 

 

It sounded so familiar that I swear to God my heart skipped a beat or two. To make sure I don’t go killing people. Should I feel different now? Now that I know what I’ve become? I lift my hands up to examine them more closely but they don’t look any different. Everything in me feels the same… expect my hair. It still feels a little wet and my hair’s messy, too. I hate when they’re messy like that but it’s not like they’d give me a brush in fear of me killing them with it. I would do it too, actually.

 

 

I don’t know where Trey is being held. All they told me is that he’s alive and doing well, but why the hell would I really believe them? Patrick Foley might be honest looking guy, but he’s also a witch which in reality makes him… a lot less honest than he claims to be. I was right about Kaylee, you know. She was sitting on the floor next to my bed with Morgan when I first opened my eyes and when those two are sitting next to each other; you just know you’re right. She introduced herself too – as Kaylee Foley, Patrick’s older sister aged 27. Finally, after a lot of yelling and swearing and me running around the room trying to get through the shield covering them, they slowly explained what had happened. Or rather, they explained while I was doing all that stuff above.

 

 

According to their story, they had to put me into a cold water tank because of my body temperature that was rapidly increasing and now that accounts for the wet hair. Explains why I have strange jeans and t-shirt on me, too. Morgan was almost too eager to point out it was a close call I didn’t burn to death. Apparently it happens to some witches when the gene’s awakening, sometimes even after without any kind of warnings signalling it which is why they have the cold water tank always ready to be used. They don’t know why it happens though or then they just didn’t feel like telling me why, either way, I have no clue.

 

 

Oh and the funniest part of this whole sad tale? Morgan told me not to be afraid. Unbelievable. Almost amused me, actually. If she wasn’t a witch, the young girl definitely would have it in her; you know, what it takes to be a hunter. Guts. She offered me some juice too, which I was forced to accept. Well, I had two options truth to be told. Drink it myself or those two making me drink it. Of course, any other day I would’ve been totally ready to kick their sorry little asses but after nearly drying to death you really don’t want to refuse when someone’s giving you something to drink. It’ll hopefully give me back my energy and strength and then we’re down to some real business here.  Then there’s the somewhat sad fact that there truly was some kind of bubbling shield separating them from me. The cough I’m forced to let out is probably caused by too much thinking, yeah.

 

 

 Where am I? I’m assuming we’re underground, probably directly below the bar which explains why they didn’t always see Patrick exit the place. Now, whether it’s their headquarters, the base of their operation or just some safe place they occasionally use, I don’t know and at this point it doesn’t make a goddamn difference anyway.

 

 

Naturally, I know I should find a way to let the Centre know where I am… and what’s happened before I literally go insane but there’s this weak voice in the back of my mind saying it won’t be any good. I used to think that when it comes to this point I’d be ready to kill myself, but now I see… I really am not.  I don’t feel any different – how’s that possible? Everything’s upside down and I’m still feeling like I am… me. Well, perhaps all it needs is few hours and I’ll be my own enemy. How am I supposed to react to that? I can’t go back to the Centre but I can’t let myself free either if it means hurting innocent people. I’m trapped - both mentally and physically. Trapped into this small room and trapped between the questions I can’t answer. So what the fuck am I gonna do?

 

 

There’s a knock on the door before it’s slowly opened. “Hey there”, Patrick greets me entering the room but all he gets from me is a nasty glare.  “I would call you Julia, but somehow after your partner’s been screaming for a name ‘Romy’ for hours now, I’m beginning to think Julia really isn’t your name.” The sarcastic tone of his voice doesn’t go by unnoticed.

 

 

“I bet you were a child genius.”

 

 

“We saved your life after you tried to steal ours. You might want to reconsider your attitude towards us if you want to be treated with some respect.” Why would they have any respect towards me? Why would I want them to have any respect towards me? I loathe them, loathe them all. Want them dead and gone from our world… only, I’m one of them now, aren’t I? Physically maybe, but not mentally – nuh huh! I hate myself for being what I am. No, actually, the feeling in bones is more like anger. What my mother was isn’t my fault! I shouldn’t be punished for her actions! During moments like these my faith truly gets tested and sometimes I even being to wonder if Trey’s right after all.

 

 

“Did I ask you to?” I question from the bed, arms around my knees. He steps closer with a disbelief in his eyes. “Would you have preferred us leaving you to die, then?” Folding his arms questioningly, he looks at me tilting his head to one side.

 

 

“As a matter of fact, yes!!” My violent reply makes him frown. Obviously, he doesn’t understand why I’m so upset but that doesn’t come as a surprise to me; didn’t expect him to understand. How would he know what I’m going through? Well, apart from the fact he went through the mutation himself… but he wasn’t a hunter! He didn’t know what’s happening to him. I can’t believe that knowing would feel this awful. It would be better if I didn’t know about witches or about my mother. This would all be new to me and I would maybe be afraid, but I wouldn’t hate myself.

 

 

“Look, I’m a witch hunter, ok? My job is to hunt down witches and kill them, that’s it.  Being one wasn’t exactly part of my plan you know? Going all insane and killing people? Also not part of my plan. Now I’m just sitting here, waiting for the explosion to tear me apart from… me.” The anger is something I can’t keep hidden even if I did want to.

 

 

“I see. You still feel like yourself, then?”

 

 

What kind of question is that? It’s kind of obvious that I do, don’t you think? And why the hell is he smiling like that? Does he really know something I don’t? “Yeah and I’m wondering how long it’ll last.”

 

 

“That’s quite a long wondering you have ahead of you then.”

 

 

Ohkay, what’s with the riddles? I get why he must feel the need to make me suffer even more after what I was about to do and so on, but give a break! My whole life’s been turned upside-down already and being secretive about my current state is not helping or making me trust him if that’s what he’s trying to accomplish. “It doesn’t change”, he continues and I could almost swear there’s a smile caressing his lips, “Well, occasionally it does.”

 

 

“Go away”, I whisper closing my eyes. I can’t handle him right now, I can’t look him in the eyes when all I see is amusement and… I don’t know what it is. It’s not disgust or hatred, but something between pity and arrogance. But it’s not like he’d seem to feel superior to me either. 

 

 

“Come with me.”

 

 

It sounds like a request, but I get the feeling it’s more like a command than anything else. I don’t like being told what to do and therefore I don’t move.  Only when he adds the pleading phrase “please” into the end I look up to him. “Come on, Romy, would you rather rot in this room for the rest of your life?”

 

 

“Why, is that how long I’m supposed to be here?” I respond with a question and he lets out a small, disbelieving laugh.

 

 

“As you pointed out already, you came here to kill me and to take away my sisters. I’m not making the mistake of letting you go”, Patrick says and adds to my surprise, “Not before you understand what’s happening to you and know all the facts, that is.”

 

 

Unknown force, a flood of energy makes my body move. Slowly I get up from the bed and fold my arms in front of me into a protective posture - not that it really would protect me from him and his craft but pretending so does bring me some kind of comfort.  The weak power of make-believe…

 

 

“Where’s Jeremy?” I ask. Jeremy Hart is one of Trey’s many aliases although he usually goes by the name Luc Monroe.  “My partner?” I add quickly though I’m sure he knows perfectly well of whom I’m speaking.

 

 

“Trey Crichton, you mean?”

 

 

How the fuck does Patrick Foley know Trey’s real identity? The Centre’s always been, as far as I know, so careful with our real names that it’s practically impossible for him to know it.  Well actually, no it’s not impossible since he knows it.“… Yeah”, I give up not even trying to deny it. What would it change? “Where’s he?”

 

 

“I’ll take you to him if you come with me.”

 

 

No other choice left for me but to do as he asks. Logically thinking this could be my chance to get the hell away from his place, but I’m not even trying without Trey. Not even thinking of trying cause I’m not leaving him here with these… monsters. Just because they’ve behaved themselves and acted normal so far doesn’t mean I’ve bought their play. I haven’t and I won’t.

 

 

Without saying anything I follow him to the hallway. There’s nothing I could say and there’s nothing I’d want him to say either so we walk in silence. Because of the total lack of windows, there are lamps lighting our way through the darkness. Only takes a couple of dozens meters to reach the other end of the hallway. He opens the door and like a true gentlemen, let’s me enter the room first. Though I’m thinking he’s just afraid I’ll attack him from behind.

 

 

There’s a big cage in the middle of the room and trust me when I say, the room’s big too. One of the walls, the one on our right to be exact is nothing but a mirror. Probably there’s a whole gang of witches behind that thing staring at us and researching our every single move and world like we’ve done to them for years. “Great.” Oh look, the subject of study speaks. Holy shit, is that right? See, I don’t care, be my guest. Study me. I’ll kill you right after I get out of this place and you’ll be sorry then.

 

 

“I’ll give you few minutes”, Patrick says and then he’s already out of the room. I’ll give you few minutes? What am I? In jail?

 

 

“Trey?” I call out his name carefully and approach the bars so slowly that one might think I’m not moving at all. “Parker?” I blow the air out of lungs, sighing. Only natural he calls me Parker again, I suppose. Still, I can’t stop thinking the fact Patrick said he had been calling out my real name… a slight wave of disappointment washes over me. It would’ve been nice to hear him call me Romy now that we’re in this kind of situation.

 

 

Fingers wrapped around the bars, I see him sitting on the floor of the opposite wall. When he finally sees me standing there, he gets up and practically flies to grab my arms through the bars. “Are you alright, honey? Did they hurt you?” He doesn’t look to be hurt, just over-worried and that’s about it. No bruises or cuts to be seen which is good, I’m glad.

 

 

“No, no, I’m fine”, I answer overlooking the pet name with what he just called me. It’s not like him to call me that, but I guess being afraid you’ll be dead in few minutes makes you act different - funny. His finger nails cut through my skin but I barely even feel it. It’s nothing compared to what I just went through. “Tell me what’s going on, Parker?”

 

 

Parker. There it is again. Apparently I’ve changed into a Parker again. What happened to being Romy? Quickly I gather myself up by looking away for a second. After that my eyes turn to meet his again, ready to  do it.  “I… I’m sorry.” I don’t think my voice’s ever been this weak before. What have they told him? How much does he know?

 

 

“For what? What did they do to you?” He asks with a voice so soft it makes my heart bleed.

 

 

“Nothing. Listen, you know about my mother, right?” He nods looking suspicious. He’s probably figured it out on his own anyway and is only waiting for me to confirm it. Fine, I’ll give him what he wants to know then. “You know what she was and we both knew there’s a chance this might happen. The gene… it… woke up”, I explain shrugging like it’s not a big deal, “and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it. No one can.”

 

 

He shakes his head violently refusing to hear my words. “Romy, let me out of here. We’ll go back to the Centre and we’ll figure this out.”

 

 

God, does he really think I’m buying that? We both know what happens if I go back to the Centre… and I can’t do it. I should, for my own good as much as others, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough. “I can’t. I know they’ll put you and Raven to get me back just to prove your loyalty towards the Centre and it’s fine… I made him promise he’d hunt me, but I can’t come there on my own. I haven’t completely changed yet but I believe I will.“

 

 

Am I lying or is it truly how I feel? Well I have to change, eventually, right? “Maybe they can help”, Trey suggests but I just shake my head smiling sadly. ”They can’t. I’ve read about this… a lot… especially after I found out about my mother. I’ll turn into a monster but I don’t know how long it’ll take. Then you’re free to kill me.” Now the nasty question ringing in my ears is questioning me. The Centre has lied before, not just to me but to everyone so isn’t it possible me changing into a goddamn lunatic is a lie too? I think it could be but do I really want to risk it? There’s always the chance it’s not. I’ve seen witches right after the changing and… they’ve been fucking out of their minds. Not a sign of humanity left in them. If I don’t believe the Centre, I gotta believe my own eyes. 

 

 

“Stop that and let me out!” He pulls me closer, slamming me against the bars. What, he trying to smack some sense into me? I tear myself apart and jerk backwards, away from his hands reaching out to me.

 

 

The door opens again and without looking over my shoulder I know it’s Patrick. I can smell him. “Time’s up”, he says, but when I don’t make a move to leave, he sighs. “Come on Romy. He’ll only take you back to the Centre and they’ll lock you up into a small white room with soft walls and everything that comes with it. You’d become their private lab rat, you know that don’t you?”

 

 

How is it that he knows so much about the Centre? “I know”, I answer. “Romy, don’t do this”, Trey pleads again. Hearing my own name said by him stops my breathing for a moment. It’s always serious when he says it, always warning me not to do something. “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can squeeze out.

 

 

“Funny how the tide turns”, Patrick says, obviously enjoying my despair. So glad that me and my feelings are entertaining you, you son of a bitch. “Come on Romy, lighten up a bit. You have your whole life ahead of you and finally, you’re able to live it without the Centre being involved.”

 

Oh yeah and just how does he think I’ll be able to do that? Idiot! ”It doesn’t matter where I go or what I do, they’ll hunt me down. I know how they work. I’ll end up sleeping with one eye open, constantly watching over my shoulder to see if they’ve found me.” Irony of life is a busy little fucker, don’t you agree?

 

 

Patrick steps closer and I feel a hand landing on my shoulder. Typical, he’s only doing it to get under Trey’s skin and unfortunately, it’s working too. Not that I’d blame him though. “Get away from her”, Trey growls, but Patrick ignores him and I’m too tired to shake his hand off.  “The saddest part is that it’s exactly how you’ve been living your life till this day.”

 

 

“No, the saddest part is that this is exactly where I don’t want to be”, I claim, “I told Raven to kill me if this happens and I’m counting on the fact he’ll do as he promised.” I take such a pride out of stating that one. Why? Because it makes me feel stronger, as if I had better cards in this game though we both are more than aware of the fact I’m not. It’s his game and I’m just tagging along.

 

 

“You’ll change your mind”, Patrick notes. The hell I will! Who is he to say that anyway? “Now come, I’ll introduce you to the rest of us.”

 

 

Excuse-me? I fight the urge to laugh hysterically. Is he honestly trying to make me one of them? Trying to make me part of his disgusting pack here? And if he is… well, I might be able to use that to achieve my goal. Which in few words is to get Trey out of this alive. It’s all I want. I don’t care what’ll happen to me after this, but I do care about him. God, this is why girl should never get sexually involved with a guy. It always complicates things way more than needed.

 

 

“No. I want you to let him go and then I’ll come.”

 

 

The hand on my shoulder is drawn back. “I don’t think that’s going to work out”, he says but I’m not letting it go that easily. No, this is something I’m willing to fight for. “Listen to me you asshole. He’s walking out of here - alive or I’ll swear to God I’ll make you suffer the slowest death I can come up with. And I’m telling you, I can come up with few. His freedom for mine.”

 

 

Trey’s not particularly liking the new twist of the plot. I can tell for he hits the bars with his fist, frustrated. Not being able to affect the situation always makes him grumpy. “Romy, shut the fuck up. I can take care of myself.” Maybe it’s his ego, you know? What kind of guy would want a girl to save them? Well at the moment, I don’t care.

 

 

“You shut up”, I snort back. Yeah you shut up and let me do this thing! “I’m trying to buy your freedom here so some appreciation would be swell.” I turn around to look Patrick’s questioning face. “Now, look Foley, either you let him go or we’ll have some serious issues coming this way with speed.”

 

 

“Alright”, he says completely surprising me. I thought we’d be fighting over the matter for hours to come, but it seems it’s not needed. “The only reason I’m doing this is to prove you we’re not the monsters you think we are. I’ll make sure he walks free-“

 

 

“And that you don’t go after him?” I cut in. Making a deal with him is the best shot I got; the kind of opportunity I won’t pass. “And that”, Patrick agrees, “but if you think we’re going to let him walk out of here on his own you’re insane.”

 

 

That didn’t predict anything good, now did it? “Then what?”

 

 

“We’ll drug him and take him to his home.”

 

 

Oh. “Sounds good enough.” That’s not too bad… unless if it’s the kind of drug that doesn’t allow him to wake up ever again.  Knowing that I’ll have to trust Patrick makes my insides scream loudly. I wouldn’t trust him even my toy dog and it’s a person we’re talking about! What other choices do I really have, huh? Yeah that’s what I thought.

 

 

“So not a good idea, Romy”, Trey says trying to catch my attention again. I can’t turn around to look at him; I can’t, so I don’t. “I’ll come back for you”, he adds trying to bring me out from the silence. And it’s exactly what he does. It’s a challenge he’s throwing at me and he knows I’ll accept it. It’s who I am; who we are. “I just did you a favour, Crichton”, I say trying to sound as cold as I’m capable of, “You stay the fuck away from me… unless you come to kill me.”

 

 

He doesn’t see the tears, but Patrick does. I don’t care. Hope he suffers when he sees how much it’s hurting me. Maybe, somewhere deep down he really does have conscience telling him that what he’s doing is wrong.  “I think we’re done now”, he says smiling a smile almost consoling… I swallow, lift my chin and let him lead me out of the room.

 

 

Yeah. We’re done.

 

 

 

 

A/N: Review pay my rent. Well no, I don’t have to pay rent, but it does make me happier.  And yes I’m very aware of the fact that there’s nothing much happening in this one but you just wait and see. That’s what I’m doing. Whee.