I watch as the old man's face changes from that of a cold stare to a rugged smile tinted with something not dissimilar to pride. "Clever girl," he's smiling at me and I'm not sure whether I want to run or attack him senselessly like a feral beast. "But as I said, The Vocatio hasn't finished yet and the God's are an appendix short from satisfaction. The boy was missing his you see. Now which one of you will give them yours?"

The further his smile stretches the further I want to recoil from his presence. The man isn't just crazy, he's certifiably psychopathic. The boy. Is he talking about the boy Lexi was playing with on the beach? Did he kill him too? Is that his crimson blood that stains the serial killer's shirt?

"Oh my God, help us," Zoe whispers it under her breath to her self.

I hear her private words between her and the man upstairs and suddenly I find myself praying for the first time in years. I pray like my life depends on it because there is a high chance we might not get out of this alive. Barely a second has passed but it feels far longer. The room, once cold, is now hot with unfiltered panic and sickly sweat that pours out of us from adrenaline. My heart skyrockets and for a moment I'm not sure if I'm going to faint or vomit.

Instinctively my eyes flicker over Zach's black mop of hair. He's not looking at me, rather at Roberto. I don't know what the immediate plan of action is. Do we push past him and out the door with the hope his decaying body will be unable to keep up with ours? Do we run to the back rooms Lucy explored earlier where, surely, there would have to be a secondary exit? Or do we scrap all that and just fight? Five against one with a large age and possibly fitness gap between us, the probabilities are definitely in our favour.

The second ends and it doesn't take long for events to further unravel without me having to contribute to the thought process. The man arches his hairy arm behind his back and in one smooth motion pulls out a wonky but distinctly sharp knife. Had that been tucked into his pants this entire time? Velvet red catches the fluorescent light and bounces it back into my pupils with sickening clarity. That must be it - the weapon used to kill Lexi and the other little boy. The nausea only increases as I take note of the angles imprinted on the blade - it looks homemade. Did he make it himself?

BAM. As soon as it's been pulled out Roberto sticks up a large foot to painfully collide with the man's chest. He goes flying backwards, propelled from the sheer force of it and collides with a nearby stack of chip packets. The rest of us erupt in a multitude of directions, each acting under sheer instinct with little advice from our stunned brains. I scuttle backwards with Zoe, avoiding the enlarging crash zone. Desperately, I search for some form of weapon.

"The fire extinguisher!" Zoe tugs my arm towards the red contraption.

I'm embarrassed to say it takes us longer than we can afford to get the fire extinguisher off the wall. Eventually its in my hands and I'm whirling around to hit . . . nothing. Nobody. Because nobody is there.

"Where are they?! Where'd they go?!" I'm screaming and I know I should calm down but my body is alive with panic and I'm high on adrenaline.

Zoe doesn't bother answering. She doesn't need to. The floor-to-ceiling glass window next to the door we had been standing next to barely a minute ago, has been obliterated to a thousand shards of glass as if a body or bodies had fallen through it. My breath catches as I catch sight of a small pool of blood amongst the debris. There's not enough to hint at oncoming death for one individual but there's definitely a distinct trail heading out into the dark of the eerie night.

My hesitation doesn't last long and the next thing I know I'm leaping through the remaining window in search of the very danger I want nothing more than to avoid. My head whips back and forth but I can't see anything. Under the carpet of milky stars and soft blue light from the petrol station, the world seems both peaceful and so, so wrong. The chances of me actually able to do something useful in the fight that's no doubt taking place now is not high but I have to do something. I can't do nothing.

A warm hand slams around wrist and I struggle not to release a loud yelp before releasing it's only Zoe. "Is that a house over there?"

"What?"

"I'm going to get help. I'll use their landline."

Focusing on the small building I see in the distance, I nod, ignoring the internal voice that reminds me of the psychopath we encountered last time we attempted to get 'help'. "Yeah, yeah okay. Good idea. I'm going to find the others, try to help them."

"Be careful."

"You too."

Like a bloodhound fresh on a scent, I return my attention to the blood trail. In the soft glow of light around me, it's difficult to see the dark route it takes but I can see well enough. In spots and dribbles I find myself running around to the side of the building towards the petrol pumps that sit idly. With my hands still tightly wrapped around the large canister that's too big to be comfortably carried, I must look a sight to the outside world. I don't stop though. I don't think I'd be able to even if I wanted to.

My next clue to their whereabouts comes in the form of loud screaming and the squeaking of rubber shoes against concrete. Who knew Lucy had such a powerful set of lungs on her? She's on the flooring crawling backwards, half-sitting half-lying. I run up to bash the old man but he's not there.

"Lucy?! Lucy? You alright?" My voice is urgent and I scan her for injuries. Despite the wild tornado that seems to have hit her hair and splattered her face with dirt and grease, I can't see any wounds apart from a deep cut on her palm. There's blood and it looks painful but not too bad and on our growing list of problems, I don't think it would rank too high.

With her uninjured hand, Lucy manages to raise a hand in the distance. Lucy's always had the tougher than nails aurora about her. Seeing her in shock scares me more than I'd like to admit.

I follow the line drawn by her outstretched finger to see the limp body of Roberto lying unconscious - I hope that's all he is - against the base of a petrol pump. Behind him lies a sight even worse: the old man and Zach fighting with bloody punches and flicks of a tantalising red knife. Zach kicks him in the shin, earning a retaliating swoop of the man's legs that brings Zach crashing to the floor.

I gasp and surge forward faster than I think I've ever ran before. Zach, still woozy from the fall, begins to crawl away but the man is on top of him before he gets the chance to go very far. Blood seeps through the cracks of the pavement and it takes me one mini-scream to realise it's coming from Zach's head. He must've hit it on the way down. I see him blinking away the spots as the man keeps advancing until he's practically straddling my ex-boyfriend.

"Shh, don't be scared. They don't need your life. Just your appendix." His words are soft and calming as if speaking to a small child, "Don't be selfish. You don't even need your appendix. It won't even hurt. Keep still, now."

My legs are burning and my arms are aching from the fire extinguisher but I force myself to run faster. My next actions are no longer dependent on saving my life, they're now dependent on saving Zach's and that's even scarier. One step. The knife raises. Two steps. The knife hovers. Three steps. The knife descends.

BANG. I hit the man's head with enough force that I'd be surprised if it hadn't shattered to million pieces just like the glass window. He falls off Zach and lies crumpled on the cold concrete. I'm not sure if he's dead or not but I don't really care either way. I don't want to be responsible for taking a life but I also don't want him to live. It's cruel and shocking how dark my thoughts have become but it's true.

When it becomes evident the man won't be moving anytime soon, I drop the canister and throw myself down beside Zach. He's groaning but he's still very much conscious. I want to hug him. I want him to hug me. I want to feel the sweet relief of finally being safe - a feeling strongly associated with his arms wrapped around me. Instead I'm careful of how much to move him. Hot red liquid oozes from his head. I consider giving first aid but to my untrained eyes, the wound isn't critical and I don't know what to do if it is.

"Are you okay? Are you alright?" My breath comes out choppy and the last droplets of adrenaline wash out of my body in the form of wet tears and hopelessly patting Zach's arm in an attempt to . . . I don't know what I attempt to achieve. Maybe it's a nervous thing. Either way, I can't seem to stop.

Using the palms of his hands, Zach pushes himself upwards until he's sitting upright, half leaning against my chest for support. His left arm hangs at an odd angle and I'm scared it's broken but he doesn't mention anything. "Thanks for saving my life," his voice is groggy but there's a smile present across his face.

Relieved that he's okay, I start doing some pitiful laugh that when mixed with the few tears that escaped my pooling eyes, creates a sight and sound that's sure not to be particularly attractive. As far as I'm concerned we all just escaped an encounter with the Grim Reaper. I couldn't care less what I looked like. "You're welcome."

I shift my body so we're both in a more comfortable position and wrap my arms around him a little tighter. I don't think it hurts him and if it does he doesn't object, so I don't stop. His black hair feels like feathers when he rests it against the crook of my neck and when he turns his head to look up at me, I find myself leaning in closer to him.

Zach's the one to travel the final small distance until our lips our touching for the second time that night. It's a much slower kiss this time and while the heat is on simmer compared to the last one that had been filled with roaring flames, this feels deeper somehow. It's deliberate and meaningful, something our other passion fuelled kiss lacked. His tongue slides across my lower lip and warmth courses through my body. I missed this. I missed him.

While, it's probably only minutes it feels as though we stay like that for a lifetime. With our arms tightly wrapped around each other, it would take another murderer for us to let go of each other. So that's how we stay. We ignore the nocturnal hoots of neighbouring animals. We ignore the destruction strewn around us. We even ignore the first splattering of rain to fall from the dark sky, heavy and satisfied.

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A/N:

It's been awhile since the last update but hope you still enjoyed.

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