All Chapters of Viscious : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

       The phone call was tough, much tougher than I expected. He gave me the details for the services. Two days from now, and graveside. Apparently she didn't want to have a visitation. Dallas kept trying to talk about us, and it was scaring me. Kellan had me sitting on his knees, and I didn't want to be cruel to Dallas's feelings, but I also didn't want any more excruciating injuries to deal with. I was already self conscious and hurting enough.          "Alina. I hope you don't think I was in with your dad on his weird ass outburst. He hadn't even let in to me that he was going to say anything like that. I know you probably can't say anything outright, but something is wrong. It's not drugs. I know you better. Even if you no longer want me, I just want you to know that you can come to me for help if you need it. I don't want you to feel trapped."         "Dad's been w

It's bittersweet, you know? Moving, packing up. Having to put the pieces of you past, or previous life into a box to start new. The emotions I had unpacking my things from leaving Dallas, have mutated, and the new form of them leaves me sullen here. There was never much, but the photo albums haunt me when they fall open and reveal a photo of mom and I, or a few of Dallas I hadn't gotten to toss yet.Kellan decided we'd start with my house though. Smaller, fewer things. I'm still worn out and tender from the ridiculous day I had yesterday and lack of rest. This slows me, almost as much as these damn padded cuffs. Kellan doesn't complain though, he just helps me with things that prove difficult. Like taking away the albums and putting them away, or taking large sections of clothes with hangers down from the closet.He decides we'll leave the futon, book shelves, and even the box spring and mattress as they are big and we won't need them. We fo

    Exhaustion settles in, the coyote is wearing down much slower than I am. I  tremble with my efforts, sweat beading across my body as I work furiously to finish him off. Before he finishes me. It's too big though, too stout, and with out my arms I can't kill it. I tried even to bite its neck, but it's fur was too dense for my smaller human teeth to get deep enough into it's pelt. The sounds of feet and howls in the distance remind me that I have a continuously shrinking time frame. I am going to die.           I barely avoid a snap near my eye,  but my quick thinking spared me. The beast bites into the rope near my wrist instead, and with a sharp movement I am able to free an arm without losing my grip with my elbows on the animal's throat. I jab its eye blindly with my freed forearm. It tips and snarls, and I rake it's eyes again and dig my fingers into it's throat just under it's jaw as I

I squeal as I awake, body slick with a thick layer of sweat. I stretched, and tore my good limbs on the briars along the blackberry vines. My body is still aching, and my skin is scorching hot despite the shade and moist earth beneath the bush. I can no longer feel my foot, but I refuse to look at it knowing that the sight would shake me. My head throws, and has a "pulse" thrumming above my ears and between my eyes. Pressure, like a sinus headache.         "Fan-freaking-tastic..." I pant. I assume my crawling position, and I wiggle out from the brush. It is still daylight, and I do not know it'd it's the same day or next. I am thirsty though. My tongue feels like sandpaper.         Squirrels and birds are flighty in my descent to the creek, and I flop unceremoniously onto my stomach to drink. A turtle ducks back into it's shell across the creek from me and I huff. The best part about drinki

       "Alina. Alina. Are you awake? I need you up incase we need to move." Dallas?! I sit up and my head spins, I clench my eyes shut and try to give myself a moment to adjust.         I am suffering. Physically. Mentally. I know that I am unlikely to leave these woods alive, but my vision of Dallas was so realistic that I had to try to fight. I had nearly given up when I had came to, an image of my father insulting me and beating me. Was that real? Was Sasha real? Hallucinations and reality swirl together, and leave me confused and uncertain. Warm hands support me, and pull me back down.           "Dallas?"        "Yes. It is me. Do you remember anything?"         "I don't know really. Dad. You. I don't remember getting here..."         "You