Liam Chase
I was just about to close the sketchbook when I heard a small cough in the doorway. I whirled around. It was Gus. Her eyes were wide with fear, staring at the book in my hands.
"Y-your not supposed t-to be in here." She stuttered, face flushed. "Anastasia s-said so..."
I took a deep breath, felt a smile working its way onto my face.
"Oh, I know what she said." I replied smoothly, grinning at her. An idea occurred to me.
"In fact, you know what, Gus?" She shook her head.
"Let's go see how 'Stasia likes seeing the book, okay?"
***
Sounds of struggle and hoarse shouts made their way up the stairs. I bounded down faster, the sketchbook clutched to my chest, drawn by the sound of violence. Gus followed hesitantly. As I rounded the corner, the screams grew louder. They belonged to Mercy, her own voice arguing with herself. I cocked my head at the confusion. First she threw Skizzy, then went after the OCD guy. She swung around at the sound of my footfalls coming down the stairs.
"You!" her other self cried.
"Liam, knock me out!" her regular voice shrieked.
"Shut up!"
I raised an eyebrow, weighed the consequences...heck to that. I needed to hit someone. I approached her, avoiding her clumsy swing in defense, and delivered a swift punch to the jaw. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
I turned to the others and shrugged.
"She asked me to do it." I started, but was interrupted by Anastasia, who had just appeared on the stairway.
"What hap-" she spotted the sketchbook in my hands, eyes bugging in shock.
"Liam." She said, voice choked and soft. "Give that to me."
I grinned at her and wiggled the book tauntingly.
"No. I don't think I will." I sang happily.
Her hands clenched and released over and over, making fists. I could almost see the gears turning in her head, the memories returning, the ones she never wanted to hear from again. This was fantastic. This Seth character really had had an impact on her. This was almost better than that boy's eyes flying open when he realized I had set his clothes on fire. This was almost better than when the policeman realized that the innocent ten-year-old son may have slit his loving parents' throats. It was almost better than Gus's reaction when she saw me leaving.
I couldn't help it. I had to goad her on.
"What are you gonna do about it?" I laughed.
Before I could finish the sentence, she was on me. She looked like a demon, hair like flames streaming behind her as she leaped forward, hands curled like claws. She raked my arms with her nails, punched my face, yanked at my hair. I fell to ground, trying to shield my face from her blows. She hurled curses at me, but I couldn't hear them over the blood pounding through my ears.
It was over as fast as it started, and her weight lifted from me. The Scottish freak had her by the arms, and he too shot a warning at me, but I ignored him. Anastasia collapsed into a chair, sobbing, the book clutched in her arms. I must have let go of it in my attempts to protect myself.
I hopped back up to my feet, unfazed. The pain from the scratches on my arms only heightened my senses. Normally, I would want my revenge on someone who had attacked me immediately, but I was enjoying her suffering too much. I was in a very good mood.
I decided to stay for a while longer.
With a wink at the group huddled on the couch, and at the out-cold Mercy, I headed to the kitchen for a snack, leaving them to deal with all the beautiful carnage I had caused.
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