Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 81
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Skylar’s hands worked faster than her brain. Even before she saw the face, her hands were already moving, but after she saw the face, the movement got sped up.
She twisted Marisa’s hair into her hands, tearing the woman away from herself, then she picked the shovel and slammed it into her face.
Marisa landed on the ground with a sharp, expected growl.
Skylar went down in a squat and began rubbing her lips on the ground till her mouth bruised up so bad and bled down to her chin
Marisa got up, reeking of fury as she watched her do that, but she didn’t make a move.
She remained motionless, watching.
Skylar kept rubbing her lips madly on the ground, as if trying to peel off her mouth from her face.
She didn’t stop till she felt her own blood flowing down her throat.
She slowly looked up at Marisa who still stood there like a doll master.
“Everyday, I unlock new reasons to hate you…” She muttered. “Everyday, I get new reasons to kill you and take your head to the lake!”
She stood to her feet, lips bleeding to her chin and chest.
“And I’ll do it…” She added. “Today…”
“I warned you,” Marisa’s voice seeped out poisonously. “I warned you to never open up to any man!!! Men are meant to be hated by you!!!”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do!!!!” Skylar cried out, dropping the shovel and going for the woman with her bare hands.
Marisa wasn’t ready to fight. She grabbed Skylar by the shoulders and tried kissing her again, but Skylar slammed herself forward, headbutting the woman.
Marisa staggered back for a second, and Skylar utilized the second, jumping in the grave and bouncing herself off the walls, slamming her feet into Marisa’s neck and face.
Marisa crashed down violently again, but she didn’t just stand and watch this time. Despite her dislocated back, she got up and caught Skylar by the face, trying to scratch her eyes.
Skylar slipped off, dropped down, punched the coffin and picked one of the wooden pieces. She stabbed the woman on the stomach twice.
Marisa’s thigh bled out, and she angrily kneeled Skylar below the chin, but Skylar only bled slightly from the mouth before turning around, going on a clean handstand and using the opportunity to gather two more wooden pieces.
She jammed the two into Marisa’s hips, bursting blood.
Marisa revealed a knife eventually.
She pushed herself off the grave wall and thrusted the blade into Skylar’s chest, trying to twist her flesh.
Skylar lifted herself off the ground, setting her legs on the wall while using Marisa as her stand.
She twirled when Marisa least expected and punched the woman thrice on the lips, breaking her mouth before pushing her face against the grave dirt.
Marisa responded with a pained grunt, and Skylar further used her back as ladder to climb out of the name grave.
Immediately she landed out, she took the shovel and began shovelling sand back into the grave, aiming to bury her alive, but her chest hurts.
It kept bleeding.
Especially the birthmark spot.
Her ribs still hurt too.
It was like the pains paused during her run here and during her fight with Marisa. Now it resumed.
But she kept throwing sand into the grave, nonstop.
Dust rose into her nose, and she coughed out. That single cough made her chest bleed out again.
She felt dead and cold.
She dropped the shovel.
She didn’t even look back before she bolted out of the woods, holding her chest and bleeding and even vomiting blood from the mouth.
Marisa lifted herself from the grave, sand and leaves shaking off her, but some still hung on her long hair, graining her scalp as a short, shrill chuckle escaped her throat.
—
Skylar was out of the woods now. With her damaged body, wobbly legs, and curling knees, she salvaged.
Yes, she won’t die, but that doesn’t mean she won’t land in a coma if she loses too much blood.
And this is so not a good time to be in coma or something else.
At a point, she stopped taking the straight road. She went through corners, alleys, short roads.
So she won’t get caught in this weak state. She has no idea what this occurrence is, but it’s a nightmare she definitely wants to wake from.
She entered another alleyway, trying to keep her consciousness.
Bleeding. Weak. Pitiful.
—
[Dread House]
There’s no morning trainings today. The last training will be tommorow with Satan and Midnight.
So…Dreads are littered around the house, resting against tommorow, but not the normal kind of rest.
It came with gossips and side talks about the masked guy that’s among the newbies. The one that’s always wearing a covering mask.
Right now, he sat in a corner, still masked, still not talking to anyone, holding a lighter which he kept flipping habitually.
“I just know he’s hot under that mask.”
“His face better not disappoint me when he finally takes off the mask.”
“Why does he wear a mask anyways?”
Even as the Dreads gossips reached his ears, he acted deaf to everything and maintained his silence.
From her spot, Rosita hissed.
“Who does he think he is? Acting like an alpha here?”
“I’m peeved by him too,” Renee said.
“Good.” Rosita faced her. “At least, we agree on something for the first time.” She stuck hands with her.
“He didn’t even do anything to you both, but you both are hating?” Quincy hissed, leaning beside them.
“Oh please!” Renee rolled eyes.
“God…” Rosita muttered. “I miss,miss, miss Skylar like shit.”
“That’s new…” Quincy said.
“She’s my friend even if she doesn’t want to admit!” Rosita frowned.
“When is Roselle’s burial?” Renee asked suddenly.
Rosita faced her.
“You know you have a way of ruining people’s mood, right? Roselle? Now that I’m in a good mood?”
Renee grunted.
“Am I the only one scared about Tuesday?” Quincy said. “I mean…. we’ve seen all the preparations, and it’s definitely not gonna be easy…”
“At least we know Renee is good, and we have our masked newbie.” Rosita turned around to look at the masked guy with another grimace.
Her phone made a bleep, and she stepped aside to check.
Blade: After the tournament on Tuesday. The salon storeroom, right?
Rosita smiled cautiously before typing her response.
Rosita: Sureee. I love you.
Blade: I definitely love you.
She smiled again, pocketing the phone before going back to join Quincy and Renee in the busy balcony, but before they could resume their talks, Dreads suddenly began gasping, jumping from banisters and standing.
Their eyes faced the same direction as if on compulsion, and when Rosita and the rest faced that direction, they finally saw what was going on.
Skylar.
In her bloody panty and singlet alone, bleeding from the chest and from her brutally bruised lips. Even from inside her mouth.
Her feet bled too as a result of walking rough alleyways barefoot.
She was staggering back and forth as she stepped into the house.
“What the fûck happened to her?”
“Shit! She looks cooked!”
“Gawd…I wouldn’t want that for my damn enemy.”
“Skylar?” Rosita’s eyes widened.
“Geez!” Renee covered her mouth.
Quincy ran downstairs immediately, holding Skylar by the shoulders.
“Skylar…”
Skylar looked at him through her drowsy, weak eyes.
“Skylar what happened to you?” He asked with already glassy eyes. “What happened…. to you?”
Skylar staggered, and he caught her by her upper back.
Rosita and Renee rushed down too, and Rosita quickly joined Quincy.
Each per a side, they guided her into the house while Renee followed them behind in a rush.
Skylar was taken to her room and dropped in bed.
She lay down despite the blood on her. Her white bedspread became deep red almost immediately.
“Skylar.” Rosita bent beside the bed and took her hand. “What happened to you? Tell me…I can go fight…”
Skylar shut her eyes.
“I need a blazer…”
“Where’s the blazer?” Renee asked quickly.
“My… wardrobe…”
Renee rushed over to the wardrobe and came back with one of El Crow’s blazers that Skylar folded there.
Skylar took it and wore it for the first time, then she dragged the duvet over herself too, completely.
Rosita exchanged glances with the siblings, and then their eyes went back to Skylar at the same time.
They waited for few more minutes before leaving the room.
Under the duvet, Skylar sniffed El Crow’s blazer greedily, taking in his scent as much as she could.
If it was before, the knot would make her smell him no matter how far he was, but now she’s not smelling him.
That just means wherever he is, he’s not on this earth crust.
He didn’t intentionally abandon her.
He’s probably in a tougher situation than herself. He’s probably suffering too. She could feel it.
She found herself wishing fervently for his safety.
She dragged the blazer closer to her nose, sniffing sickly again.
—
