Kingdom of Ruins

Start writing here…Clattering around her flat in a mess of toothpaste, half-on-half-off tights, and uncombed hair Neta tried to find her keys. She was running late yet again this morning and she was exhausted. Ever since the night of the break in she hadn’t slept much, and when she did manage a moment of sleep, it was through her alarm. She’d taken to having her television on in her bedroom at a reasonably loud volume so that it could be clearly heard throughout the flat – not that it was difficult. It was barely big enough for herself and her tiny dog, Frank. And apparently some burglars…

She shook the thought from her head and ran to the bathroom to spit out her toothpaste. Usually she’d check her hair in the bathroom but the space where it usually hung was bare. She hurriedly ran to the mirror in her bedroom telling herself that it was because she was late. Liar. It’s because you’re scared. Scared of a bare piece of wall.

Neta tripped and managed to catch herself on the edge of her bed before she hit the ground too hard and cursed herself an idiot for not putting her tights on properly first. As she rose from her position, she noticed something she hadn’t before. A long, thin mark on the wall by the window. That… hadn’t been there before, had it? No, not that she’d noticed, anyway. She crawled over the bed to the window and tentatively fingered the mark as if she feared it might bite her. A hole?

A memory of a noise rousing her from the fragile tendrils of her dream came to mind, something she’d shrugged off shortly before she’d realised that there were intruders in her home. But now, perhaps it was something after all. A chill skittered down her spine and she turned stiffly from the mark and walked to the other end of her room and sat on the bed with her back to the window. She tried to think of something else, anything else, as she put her other leg into her tights.

A sharp knock sounded at her door and mercifully took her mind from her thoughts. Neta shoved her feet into the heels that she’d kicked off her feet last night and opened the door. Standing there in front of her, stony faced and ramrod straight, was her landlady. Neta swallowed thickly and tried to compose herself.

“Ms Jackson… hi, what can I do for you?” She asked her with a tremble to her voice. The woman terrified her to no end.

“What you can do, Miss Cahill, is pay me my rent.” Her voice was clipped.

“Your rent?” Neta’s face flushed. “But you should have received it by now. I posted the cheque to you last week.” Why couldn’t she just join the digital age like the rest of us?

“No, I received it.” Her tone was condescending and Neta felt a spike of irritation. She bit her tongue anyway because she didn’t want to find herself homeless. The old battle axe would sell the flat just to spite her, she knew, so it was always better to let the old woman humiliate her than to speak her mind. “I am here because the cheque didn’t clear.”

“It didn’t clear?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t understand...” Neta spoke more to herself than Ms Jackson, but the woman answered, nonetheless.

“It bounced. It didn’t go through.”

“No, no, I understood that part, I just don’t understand how- “

“What I don’t understand, young lady, is how this has happened three months in a row. I am an old woman; I can’t be going backwards and forwards to the bank every time you cannot honour your agreement.” Neta stood there feeling very much like a chided school child in the headmaster’s office. Unable to meet the woman’s eyes she tried to focus on something else, like her turkey neck that was wobbling wildly with every movement. “Next time this happens, you find somewhere else to live.”

Without giving Neta so much as a chance to explain herself she hobbled off, muttering under her breath about the youth of today. Slowly, Neta turned and closed the front door behind her and slid down it as she tried to calm herself. Frank trotted over, gave her a lick, and collapsed against her hip, his tail swinging wildly as he waited for his belly rub. She smiled thinly at him and relented, letting her head fall back against the door with a small thud.

Neta’s heart pounded wildly in her chest and she felt that all too familiar warmth spread slowly through her body and her hands began to tremble slightly as the adrenalin hit her. What other bills haven’t been paid this month…

She’d had a bad time recently because of the massive vet bills for Frank after the vet discovered a tumour on his spine, and she had been living from pay cheque to pay cheque since. And of course, this had to be the month the university hired a new person to deal with paying the staff so there had been many problems with her being given her pay on time. She had no doubt they’d figure out how to do it correctly eventually, and when she had savings it wouldn’t have been a problem, but at the moment she had nothing.

She wiped a tear as it fell down her cheek and pulled Frank into her lap, not caring about the hairs on her clothes, and buried her face in his fur.

“What am I gonna do?” She’d never felt the threat of homelessness before, and here she was, a month away from being evicted onto the streets of Edinburgh. She had nowhere to go, no-one to run to. Well, she could always stay with Harry and Ruth, but they weren’t her family, not really. As kind as they were, they weren’t hers.

Her mother had died a few years ago; a shock illness that took her in just a little over a month. After her mother succumbed, she was all alone in the world. Her father had died before she was born, her mother had no siblings, and none of her grandparents were alive. She’d been alone with no one by her side but Frank. So, when he was diagnosed with that tumour it was a no brainer; she would spend everything she had to keep her best friend with her for as long as possible.

Neta dried her eyes and placed Frank back on the floor as she stood from her crumpled heap by the door and continued her search for her keys. I’ll just go and get it sorted at lunch and then it will be fine. No need to panic. The thought didn’t do much to calm her down. She grabbed her bag and searched through for them, eventually finding them hidden under some wrappers she kept promising herself she’d throw away. Cursing herself an idiot she grabbed her coat, checked Frank had plenty of food and water, and ran out the door.

Wedging her earbuds in her ears she let the blasting music blow the cobwebs from her mind. Symphonies played for her as she warded away the thoughts that sat on the fringes of her mind like vultures waiting to pick her apart like a carcass in the desert. It was moments like these that filled her with joy. Her feet remembered the way to work, picking their way through the crowd, dancing between the people to the rhythm of the music as her mind wandered far away from her. As she approached the busy street she came back to reality, only intending to be present for a moment before disappearing again, but it was then that she noticed.

She nearly didn’t notice, in her haste to return to her fantasy world, that behind her was a man. A large man. He was a little way behind her, but there he was. Watching her. His eyes bore into her own as she looked at him, her feet stuck to the pavement by the weight in his stare. He didn’t once blink, he just continued walking towards her. Someone bumped into her as they crossed the street and she came to, her feet moving at last, carrying her across the street with the horde. Neta sped up a bit as she walked, trying to keep to a steady pace.

He probably wasn’t staring at you. He was probably zoned out like you were, and you just thought he was staring. The thought didn’t quell the nausea or the rising panic as the adrenalin flooded her system adding an uneasy sort of focus to everything. She tried to throw herself back into the music, but the vultures were in, and this time, they were immune to the music.

It’s not that uncommon, remember. All those reports you’ve read, the statistics, the stories…

She cleared her throat suddenly, pulling the earbuds from her ears in a vain attempt to dislodge the thought, sensible as it was. He was just a man on his way to work, and to accuse him like this, even if it was only in her own mind, was unfair. Wasn’t it?

What if you’re right? She tensed up but stopped herself before she could peek behind again.

No, I’m not doing it. I’m going to just walk to work and this feeling will go.

But what if he’s some kind of creep that just follows you?

Gods, that’s ridiculous!

But what if?

She went backwards and forwards with herself trying desperately to overcome that little voice in her head; the same one that had always won out when she was a teenager. The same one that still won even now that she was a fully grown adult. The voice of What If, the voice of Poison, that Little Demon in her head that liked to torture her.

Okay, I’ll look behind next time I cross the road. If he’s still following, I’ll try to shake him off. Better to make a compromise with herself than to fight incessantly and worry herself stupid. So, she did. She checked behind herself.

And there he was.

Staring.

Unblinking.

That feeling in the pit of her stomach deepened and she thought for one horrible moment that she was about to vomit right then and there in front of hundreds of strangers. She noticed that he wore a scarf around his mouth and nose the way those people liked to do whenever they were hiding their faces on those crime documentaries. That’s never a good thing.

He’s probably cold.

It’s not that cold today.

His gaze was unnerving to say the least. He looked her square in the eyes, eyes clear and narrowed in concentration, and walked with purpose. He was definitely looking at her and her body urged her to run. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to be chased through the crowds, and certainly not in heels. He looked like the kind of man that would catch her quickly and be able to fight off anybody that dared intervene. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to keep her breathing under control as her panic rose. Get it together, woman. Do something and do it quickly.

She knew nothing about evading creepy guys on the street bar what she had seen on television, and somehow, she didn’t think running through the streets and jumping on random buses and trams would cut it. And it certainly wouldn’t be good for her feet.

Looking around she noticed a coffee shop and ducked inside at the last minute. She turned around and watched the door, waiting for the man to walk past, hoping that he wouldn’t just wait for her to leave. He did walk past, but her relief was very short lived. He turned to look her square in the eyes as he went, and she gasped and took a step backwards.

She felt her heel land in something soft and when she heard the yelp that sounded behind her she realised that she was standing on someone’s foot.

“Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry!” She looked down and saw that her heel had caught the man right in the centre of his foot. As she looked back up to the man, she was met with two widened blue eyes that creased as he smiled at her.

“No worries, see?” He gestured to the coffee in his hands with a jerk of his chin. “All safe.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” Neta chuckled. “As long as the coffee is safe.”

“I can cope with being skewered in the foot by a heel so long as I still have coffee.” He winked at her and she saw how boyish he looked. Puppy fat, Mum would have called it. She smiled at him and he tilted his head to one side. “Are you alright? You seem,” He searched for the word, “troubled.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” The man just watched her for a moment as if he was weighing up whether to believe her before a small smile graced his face.

“Alright, well, I’d better be going.”

“Oh. Yeah, me too!” Neta awkwardly pointed to the counter and huffed a nervous laugh at herself.

She ducked her head as she chastised herself being an awkward, clumsy fool and hurried to the counter. She didn’t really feel like coffee, not today, and especially not with some creep following her around for god knows what reason, but at least it would be a decent way to defend herself. A scalding hot cup of coffee to the face was sure to buy her a few precious seconds to escape. When she glanced behind her, the blue-eyed man was gone.

The rest of Neta’s journey to work was exhausting. She was glancing around examining everybody like a mad woman. Suspicious of every tall man, every half-obscured face, and every shadow set her heart pumping at twice its usual rate. But once inside the library she calmed a little, and as soon as she made her way to the special collections section she calmed down entirely. Nobody was really allowed back here other than those with clearance, so a strange tall man was bound to draw the attention of anybody who encountered him. Plus, a big man like that was bound to make noise as he approached – plenty of time for her to either run or hide. Or find a weapon.

Neta had forgotten about the man almost entirely by lunchtime, only remaining a vague presence on the fringes of her conscious, and she was so busy burying herself in the paperwork and requests on her desk that when she heard footsteps approaching, it took her a moment to realise what they were. Then her heart stopped. As they came closer, she decided that the footsteps weren’t as definite and loud as they aught to be for a huge, hulking monster of a man and relaxed a little bit, slumping in her seat with relief.

“Ettie, you here?” A familiar voice called out.

“Harry?” Neta frowned for a moment at looked at her watch. It was far too late for him to be hanging around here. “What on earth…”

“I’m here on an errand, love. Ruth wanted me to bring you this as a thank you.” The old man shuffled around the door waving a Tupperware box at her.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that!”

“Ach, I know, but you know what she’s like.”

As she took the Tupperware from Harry, Neta noticed his hands and gently grabbed it in her own, discarding the box on the table for a moment. His hands were unable to straighten, gnawed at by arthritis, and shaking with the little strength he possessed.

“Harry…” She looked at him with sympathetic eyes, covering his hands with hers as she gently rubbed and caressed them. “Did the turmeric not help?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m too far gone, I think. But Ruth has seen a difference, at least.”

“Have you gone to the doctor? At least to get some painkillers.”

“I have paracetamol, don’t you worry about me.” Harry patted her hands with his own and she frowned at him.

“Harry, you know paracetamol won’t do a damned thing! You need proper painkillers, and anti-inflammatories…”

“Pah! Away with ya. I’m fine, Neta, and don’t you go saying none of that to Ruthie, or she’ll have my balls for earrings.” Neta just sighed at him and gently released his hand.

“I think she already knows; she’s not blind you know.”

“Oh, I know. That woman has eyes like a hawk…” He grimaced at some memory playing in his mind. No doubt one of the many failed shenanigans of his that was rightfully foiled by his long-suffering wife. Neta smiled softly and shook her head at him.

“Just be careful, okay? Promise me.” Harry turned to her and took up her hand once more and grasped it with what little strength he had.

“I promise you; I will be as careful as I can.”

“Good.” She smiled widely and nudged him. “Now go home and let me work.”

“Aye, I will at that.” Harry grinned at her, his eyes sparkling in a way that made her feel as if she knew what he was like as a child; all scraped knees and dirty hands. “Ruthie has a lovely wee lunch prepared.” He rubbed his hands together and hopped off as spritely as he was able. He called back a farewell and left Neta shaking her head at him fondly.

Leaving her Tupperware lunch on the table, Neta went to stretch her aching back and to grab a drink since she’d drunk noting since the few mouthfuls of her coffee that morning and even then she’d ended up giving the rest to one of the librarians. As she walked down the corridor her thoughts travelled to the Mysterious Stalker. He went out of his way to make eye contact once she ducked into that café. It was eerie, but more than that, it was deliberate. He could see that she went in there, why else would he look? And if he was trying to be at least a little less conspicuous he would have just walked on past, eyes forward. No, he wanted her to know that he was following, that he knew she was aware of him. A chill skittered down her spine and Neta fought the urge to look behind her. You’re just paranoid. You can’t even hear…

Footsteps.

Neta felt that chill envelope her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, every hair raising as it went like the sonic wave in a sci-fi film. Just a coincidence. She forced a laugh at herself, but it just felt hollow.

What if it’s not a coincidence?

How could he find me?

I may have missed him…

With every thought tearing through her mind she sped up, her ears straining to notice the sounds behind her, trying to discern if they were speeding up too.

They are!

They’re not.

Yes, they are! Are they?

Noticing the lift at the end of the corridor, she practically sprinted for it and stabbed the button rapidly as her vision blurred, a lump forming in her throat. She began to bounce half believing that if she stopped moving, she’d drop dead from sheer terror, and begged the lift to hurry up under her breath.

With a ping the lift arrived, but the moment before the doors opened felt like an eternity, and when they finally parted with a shudder, as if they too were terrified by her pursuer, and she nearly sobbed in relief. She barrelled into the lift and stabbed the button for the ground floor far more times than necessary, and then held the button to shut the doors with both hands, as if it made the slightest difference. She looked up through the closing doors and saw him walking calmly down the corridor towards her. Eyes staring straight into her own. Though she couldn’t see his mouth, she just knew he was smirking at her.

Eventually, the doors met, and the lift moved downwards. To hell with this, she thought. I’ll get Harry to collect my things tonight and I’ll go to the police right now. If I live… Neta tapped her heel as she watched the numbers change and vaguely registered the thought of how slow she was moving. It was as if she was falling through molasses. The doors were barely open before Neta was squeezing through them.

The café was full of the lunch rush and Neta briefly thought that that was a blessing. She could slip out amongst the crowd and she’d lose him in no time. If she stuck to the crowds maybe she could lose him entirely and get to the police station in relative safety. The only problem was, she didn’t know where the nearest police station was, and she’d left her phone upstairs. Fuck!

A hand grabbing Neta’s wrist jerked her from her thoughts and a pulse of ice shot through her body and gripped her stomach. She looked at the man in front of her and her mind went blank for a moment.

“You?” Those blue eyes narrowed as the man from the coffee shop beamed at her.

“Me.” He tugged her, and her body followed before she had a chance to say anything else. “Come this way.”

“No, please, you have to let go. There’s this man- he’s following me and-” Neta tried to pry his hand from her wrist but his grip was firm.

“I know.” She blinked at him, not believing the words she’d just heard. “We’re here to help you get away.”

“Get away?” She parroted dumbly.

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” Coffee Shop Guy just offered her a sheepish smile.

“No time to explain. But I promise you, once we’ve gotten you to safety, we’ll answer all the questions you have.”

“We?” He just nodded behind her and she turned around, half expecting to see the Monster behind her. Instead she saw a familiar face smiling grimly at her. “Talea?” The woman from the other week? The name came at her from out of nowhere, and the woman blinked at her for a moment before she nodded.

“Hello again.”

“Okay, who are you people?”

“Hinon is right, there’s no time to explain right now. We have to get you away-”

Just then there was a loud ruckus from behind them and Neta jerked her head down and closed her eyes tightly. The blue-eyed man – Hinon – just continued to tug her through the crowd, faster this time, and elbowed the rubberneckers out of the way.

“We have to leave. Now!” Hinon called back to them and tugged Neta with more insistence.

“Look out!” Talea shouted and reached over Neta to pull Hinon backwards, but he was knocked sideways by a figure that came flying from her right. Hinon’s hand was ripped from her wrist and Talea tugged Neta backwards and into her own body. Hinon and his assailant went flying through the crowd; those that weren’t knocked to the ground staggered out of the way and the pair cleaved a path through the bodies.

The café erupted into chaos at that moment. People began running and screaming, trying to escape the building first. Talea just grabbed Neta’s hand and pulled her through the crowd, roughly shoving people out of the way. As the door neared, Neta thought that they were going to make it. But then someone stopped them. Talea said something, a guttural noise, in a language that she didn’t understand but judging by the tone and the look on her face, Neta assumed it wasn’t good.

A white-haired man was stood at the doors, a smile on his face that dripped with violence and malice. With one shove of his hand he sent some poor student flying across the room. Neta shrieked and watched as the body lay perfectly still, her hands covering her mouth as she stared on in horror, willing the body to move, even just a little. It didn’t. Anybody that was headed to that door stopped and ran, screaming, to try another door. Neta looked back at the man, her hands trembling as she lowered them from her face and looked at the man before her.

He was deathly pale. It was almost as if he’d been pulled from a frozen lake. And his eyes were shining blue. Not a blue like Hinon’s– his were a deep blue that shone with emotion – no, this man’s eyes were literally glowing blue… Before Neta could ponder it a moment longer Talea tugged her away in the opposite direction and that was when she noticed the scene.

Hinon was fighting with his assailant and another man was with them – who he was fighting she didn’t know. They were moving so fast that she couldn’t tell. Are those swords? Neta’s jaw dropped as she saw the two men were a blur of flesh and steel, swiping and stabbing and parrying something… something terrifying. She couldn’t see properly but it was black as obsidian. Neta didn’t look long. Another man was across the room fighting with a woman who seemed like she was having fun, her shrieks of delight echoing around the now empty room. Talea tugged Neta away and back to where she had come from before Neta pulled her away.

“No! Not that way!” Her voice trembled as she searched for the Stalker she’d been running from just moments ago. Talea looked at Neta, her brow creased and her eyes searching Neta’s face.

Neta opened her mouth to explain further but then she gasped and tugged Talea’s arm. Talea wheeled around to see what Neta was looking at and unleashed a hiss.

“Belgarian.” The large man chuckled. The noise scraped against Neta’s head. It was a deep thrum that she swore she could feel travel across the floor.

“You can have the demon. The girl is mine.” His voice sent a chill down Neta’s spine and a leaden weight dropped in her stomach at the realisation that she was the girl.

The Pale Man rushed past Neta’s left side to attack Talea from behind and she thought that Talea was going to end up like Hinon, but the small woman turned so quickly and threw a punch at the man’s face that Neta could barely register what had happened. Neta squeaked and staggered back a few steps to avoid taking any damage from the pair as the Pale Man grabbed Talea’s arm and threw her across the room and into the man and Shrieking Woman.

Neta found herself all alone suddenly. The others were busy fighting, and it was just her and the Stalker. He continued to walk towards her with a lazy gait. He clearly wasn’t in any rush and he certainly didn’t perceive her as a threat. An irrational little needle of irritation stabbed at her in the back of her mind. Why was she so insulted by that?

“We finally meet, Girl.” What a treat. Neta remained silent, watching him warily as he came closer. “What, nothing to say? No begging? No pleading for the silly little excuse you call a life?” That’s just unnecessarily rude… “Good. I’m tired of all the talking.” Then how about you shut up?

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or who you think I am but-” Belgarian laughed at her.

“The real question is, who do you think you are?”

“I’m a woman who really wants to go home.”

“Well, it looks like we’re in agreement, then.” Neta’s brow twitched, drawing together ever so slightly, the only outward expression she could muster right now. “I was going to do this gently, but your hellion of a friend over there has pissed me off. So now,” He reached up and pulled the scarf from his face, “it’s personal.”

A strangled cry erupted from her throat at that moment and she covered her mouth with her hands once more. Neta took in the sight of his ruined jaw. She didn’t know how to react. Should she scream, or vomit? His jaw was a raw and weeping mess of ripped flesh and exposed teeth and bone giving him a permanent snarl. The rage burning in his eyes had Neta backing up more quickly, his approach more rapid and ominous, and her ankle rolled over suddenly. As Neta tried to keep her balance an idea came to mind. Her shoes were going to hinder her escape anyway…

She kicked her shoes of and quickly scooped them up as she retreated further, eliciting another dark chuckle from the disfigured man in front of her. She curbed the instinct to run, trying desperately to ignore the voice in her head screaming at her to just run, and as he got closer, she swung out with one of her shoes, and brought the heel directly on to his vulnerable jaw.

Belgarian cried out in pain, doubling over and yanking out the shoe that had somehow become embedded into the weeping flesh. Neta wasted no time. She turned around and ran straight through the doors behind her and through the streets. She didn’t care that her feet were getting wet, she didn’t care that her feet might get hurt, she didn’t care that she must have looked like a mad woman, she just ran for her life as fast as she was able to.

She didn’t know how long she had been running for, and she didn’t know where she was, but when she stopped running, she realised she had a death grip on her remaining shoe. She searched around her wildly, looking for any sign that she’d been chased. The only disturbance seemed to be her, and so she tried to listen out for distant screaming or protests as a large man barrelled through them. Nothing. Nothing but her heard pounding in her ears.

Once she had caught her breath, Neta entered the nearest store and approached the desk, ignoring the customers’ protests as she cut the line. If she hadn’t been so saturated with adrenaline she may have been concerned about the fact that her tights were completely ripped from her sprint through the city, she might have been embarrassed by the way her hair was so windswept, and she might have been brought to tears by the way the people in the line were staring at her as if she were Hitler incarnate.

“Can I use your phone, please? I need to call the police.”