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He watched her. As he would through his bedroom window each night. She always came. Her long strawberry blonde hair loose around her waist, occasionally swaying from side to side as she would manoeuvre along the dirt ground. Her full lips pursed in frustration, icy blue eyes, cunning, as if she dared anyone to make a move on her.
She paced up and down the deserted street. It was easy for the boy to quietly observe the girl that intrigued him so much. She always stood right below him, never acknowledging his existence. Her hands would always be clenched into tight fists, cutting off her circulation. Was she waiting for someone? She would stay till midnight nearly each night, an axe slung across her fragile back. What was the axe for? It was like she expected something to jump out at any moment, as she would flinch at any quiet rustle of leaves.
He had considered confronting the girl, demanding what she was doing there. However, when he nearly brought himself to doing it, his lifeless legs would catch his eye. He shrugged further down into the safety of his wheelchair.
It was only that night that the boy looked out his window to find the girl already there. For once her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, she was wearing all black that night. The pitch black licra was like a second skin on the girl, as it wound itself around her, revealing many curves that the boy hadn’t known she possessed.
Her head jerked up, the boy swore that he saw her ears prick up like a cats. She whipped her head around to face what seemed like a never ending darkness. She gripped the axe so tight that her knuckles went white. She was no longer the fearless warrior. She was, just for a moment, just a little girl. Alone and afraid. In a heartbeat her terror was replaced by a fierce glint in her eye. Her face paled, her blood boiled. All this time the boy never realised the girl carried a fear.
A young woman stepped out of the shadows, her dark curtains of hair whipping wildly about her perfect heart shaped face. Her existence seemed to drain all the life out of the street. He heard the wind howl, and the trees shiver. He had never seen such unique beauty. Her almond shaped eyes seemed to gleam silver in the moonlight, while her skin shimmered. She smirked at the girl, revealing a pair of razor sharp fangs. She took one small step towards the girl, it was slow and deliberate, her gaze didn’t leave the girl for a second. The girl staggered back as she took a swing at the woman’s head. The women dodged it easily. She laughed softly and humourlessly, the sound was musical and seductive, automatically drawing the boy closer to the window. He carefully opened a tiny crack in his window, seduced by the unfolding drama.
She took another long stride towards the girl, twirling a strand of hair around her slender finger, whispering nearly inaudible words to the girl.
“You scared, little girl?,” she purred, “Don’t bother crying out for help.”
The girl flinched at the women’s words.
“Come and get me bitch,” the girl hissed moving into a crouch, her eyes, blazing, shot daggers at the women. The girl’s expression was guarded again, not letting her warrior mask peel away to reveal her terror.
The woman sniggered, narrowing her eyes.
The girl took a swing at her head, missing by an inch. Slicing a ribbon of dark hair from the woman. The strand of hair floated slowly to the ground, dissolving into darkness. The woman ducked and growled. The small girl pulled herself together as she hit the woman hard in the stomach with a roundhouse kick. From there the fight had begun.
The boy had never seen such gracefulness in his life. The two women fought as elegantly as if they were dancing, one fluid motion after the other. For the first time he realised how beautiful the girl really was.
The woman caught the girl in a tight headlock, her eyes blazed with desire as she brought her fangs down to the girls’ neck.
“Not so tough now sweetie,” she rasped, her voice no longer musical. She had waited far to long for this meal.
The boy went rigid in his chair, waiting for the woman to suck the life out of the girl.
The girl’s mask of bravery was nearly gone, she was no longer the lion, but the lamb.
Only for a second…
The girl’s hand struggled into her boot, searching for her dagger. She felt its familiar hilt in the palm of her hand gripping it tightly as if her life depended on it. She could sense the woman’s fangs only inches from her neck. The girl knew she only had one chance to get this right.
She flung the dagger deep into the woman’s cheekbone.
The woman let out a blood-curdling scream.
The woman looked up at her, as she was on her knees. A weak mischievous smile edged at the corner of her mouth.
“ You really don’t think that that would kill me do you?” she laughed deliriously.
In one sinuous motion, the girl was behind her.
With a sickening snap the woman’s neck cracked under the girl’s hands.
She needed no short-tempered pun.
She smiled, and yanked her head up to the star studded sky and muttered inaudible words that seemed like a prayer.
Her grin widened as she looked down at the now smoky strands of darkness, which had replaced the dead vampire.
The strands of darkness seemed to weave themselves together dissolving into the pavement. The boy gawked down at the girl, and sighed.
“Wow,” he whispered in wonder, tears ran down his cheeks in awe, as a gust of wind slammed his window shut.
The girls head cocked up, causing the small ribbons of hair that had fallen from her rubber band to flutter around her face wildly. She swiftly snatched her axe from the dirt, meeting his eye as she slowly backed away into the shadows. The boy opened his mouth attempting to yell out to her, but only a whimper escaped his mouth.
When the boy woke from that sleepless night, he knew that he could never speak of the events that happened that night. Not of the girl or the woman.
He wheeled himself across Flinders Street station, the cold making his lips turn blue and smoky clouds escaping his mouth as he breathed. People gawked down at him, that’s one thing the boy would always know, people would always stop and stare like he was different, an outsider. This would usually make him angry, but seemed insignificant now.
The boy beamed to himself, as the ordinary people moved around him in fast motion. Some meeting friends for coffee, others running late for a meeting. It made him smile that they had no idea, no idea of what was really going on it the real world. When they thought that I was just another boy in a wheelchair, captivated in some kind of dream world, they were the ones in their own little worlds. Never seeing the world for how it really is. That there is evil. That there are things that sometimes cannot be explained. That I wasn’t the one having the world pass by me.
That’s when I saw her. Her hair whipping wildly around her face, her narrow hands clutching her jacket, her full lips nearly the same blue as her icy eyes. She would time to time look around self consciously, as the boy suspected it as a habit. It was her. The girl. Maybe the only girl who was like me. She saw the world how it really was.
She looked the same as she had looked every other night, however, there was no axe, no skin tight licra, no cunning look in her eye, to ever make her look suspicious, different. She was just like everyone else, never a perpetrator, but always a victim.