Look, run, repeat.

With my back pressed against the bricks of the run-down building, I stare across the alley at Angel, who has his machine gun aimed and firing at an exterminator.

I haven't seen one of them yet - Angel Dust has killed them all before I've had a chance. Not that I really want to see what they look like. Probably just a gross unique formation of flesh and fur, like all of the other demons here.

A long, silver spear soars through the warm air, almost nicking one of Angel's arms. "You little bitch," he mutters before sprinting behind the building to fight the monster head on with his spiky-death-ball-thingy.

I almost look into the alley, just to watch the action, and maybe catch a glimpse of the exterminator, but my stomach lurches with the thought. Instead, I dash across the alley, bending my torso low to avoid being seen. When I make it to the next building, I stop and take a few breaths.

After a moment of clanging, Angel comes around the corner, covered in multiple shades of blood. Black, red, and a sickening purplish mixture of the two.

His eyes are full of life.

"Holy fuck," he says, grinning. "I love Hell!"

I wonder if that's how he really feels.

Just then, we hear a scream. My head whips around to the buildings behind me. I wonder if that could have been Charlie. Or Vaggie. Without thinking, I run after the scream. Adrenaline is pumping through my body, forcing my muscles to move in ways they have never moved. Ever single nerve in my body is on edge, and when I shift the pistol in my sweaty palm, I feel every ridge along the metal.

I stop at a tall building with a bright, wide sign over the door that reads DRUGS. Angel stops beside me, following my gaze to the sign.

"I could use some of those right now," he says jokingly. I laugh with agreement.

As we are staring up at the sign, I hear a quiet, smooth whirrr begin from behind me. I know what it is before I turn around to see it, and I know that we are too late to stop it. A spear, just like the silver one Angel almost got hit with earlier, zooming through the air with the speed of lightning. Time slows at this moment. I begin to turn around, to look at the thrower of the spear that I know is coming, but before I can see them, the spear hits the side of my arm. It goes in - deep. Cringing, I feel my flesh part to make way for the foreign object. The blow forces me to step back a bit.

It goes in one end of my arm, then out the other end.

From one end. All the way to the other.

I scream, staring at my arm with absolute terror. Looking up at the thing that shot at me, I feel the blood rush out of my head and down to my stabbed arm.

And I see it. The exterminator.

I swallow hard. It's tall and grey, with a dull, emotionless face. Flickering white lights, almost glitching, resemble the features on it's face. Eyes flat and dead. Mouth humorous. Like it is laughing at me. Thick, curling horns on the top of it's head, like a ram's horns. A pulse of fear, disgust, and rage flows through me, but I can't move. I feel like I am paralyzed.

Just like when I was in the car. Teetering on the edge. Muscles gone still and cold with fear.

The creature starts walking closer. Angel runs for it, club raised, and begins to whack the living shit out of it.

White spots speckle my vision, but I can still clearly see the spear sticking out of my arm. It is at least two feet long. I have to pull it out. Or push it out. Something. I can't leave it in there. It hurts too much.

My stomach rises to my throat and I vomit, all over the blood-soaked concrete below me. When I'm done dry heaving, I start to sob.

Angel is standing over the exterminator's dead body. I look at him helplessly.

Then I begin to laugh. I don't know if it's because of the loss of blood in my head, or the wild pain in my arm, or the memory of what I just saw replaying in my head. The laughter comes from deep in my chest, making my head feel even fainter.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask, staring up at Angel. My voice is high and wobbly, a pitch I have never heard myself use. "What the fucking fuck was that-that-that thing?"

Angel is giving me a look. It hurts me, because it is the look I used to give to mean people at school when I walked past them in the hallway or saw them at lunch. A look of pure pity and disapproval.

"Angel," I wheeze. I'm out of breath. My cheeks are wet. So is my arm, but only a little bit. It will bleed more when I take the spear out. "Take it out. Take it out of me."

Angel blinks. "The spear?"

I roll my eyes. "No, the brick. Yes Angel, the spear! Take the MOTHER FUCKING spear out of my arm." The words spew from my mouth. My voice is thick and fiery. I can tell that I must look crazy, but I don't care.

"Okay," he says. "I'm not a doctor though. Don't expect it to feel good."

"Of course!" I laugh. "Of course it won't feel good. It's a spear! But never mind the spear, Angel. Tell me what the fuck that thing was? Answer me right now... o-or... or I'll shoot you in the head." I raise the pistol to Angel's forehead.

Now his cockiness is thrown off, but he regains it quickly. "Woah there, hunny. You don't want to do that. Please just calm down."

I laugh again. Then I sob. My good arm is shaking so bad that I almost accidentally drop the gun with each passing second. "What was it?" My voice is softer now.

Good Lord, I am crazy.

I lower the pistol as my legs give out, forcing me to fall to my knees.

Angel sighs, poofs his gun and swinging club away, then crouches beside be. I don't look at him. My eyes are glued to the shivering pistol in my hand. "It was a damned exterminator. You already knew that, though," he says. I did know that, and I also know that he has that look in his face again. Pity and disappointment. "Don't worry, Barbie doll. You'll get used to it soon. I was wondering when you'd get the insanity. It took a little bit longer to get to you than most of the other demons. Especially me. I gave in right away," he says. I feel the pressure of his hand on the spear. He keeps talking, and it's a good distraction. "It comes to everyone, and you will get used to it eventually. It feels like a friend once the trauma wears off."

He yanks the spear from my arm. Surely, that is not the correct way to take a spear out of a living person's body, because it hurts so much I think I'm going to pass out.

After taking a second to register the violent pain, I screech loudly. Blood spews from my arm like a water hose. It feels like someone has stuck a blazing hot blade into my arm and left it there to disintegrate my bones.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it's not that bad," Angel says. "Shush! You'll attract every single damn exterminator in the city!"

His words go in one ear and out the other. I am breathless. The pain is so strong. I bite my lip until I can taste blood, then I bite some more. It hurts so bad. Unconsciously, my good hand drops the pistol and reaches up to close itself around my stab wound. I groan. My vision is white. So is the pain. White hot. My stomach is whirling like a tire on a race car driving 200 m/h, and the fingers on my right hand feel numb, but I barely notice because the horrible feeling in my arm is so strong. My left hand closes tighter around the wound.

Forgetting about Angel, I close my eyes and try to focus on anything else but the pain. I focus on my dad's sweet face. I allow memories of my life before Hell to flash across my mind. Wrestling Marco when he got home from school, playing with my dog, taking my mom out for lunch at Panera.

My vision is white. So white. So hot.

ᯬ

When I come to, I am laying on the street where I had passed out, in a puddle of my own vomit, sweat and blood. Red light fills my pupils. Angel is nowhere to be found.

I sit up, but it takes a good few minutes. My bones ache with every inch. Eventually, I sit upright, leaning against a wall. I look down at my arm to find that it has been tied shut with a random piece of grey fabric. The blood around it is dried and crusty.

I don't have time to examine myself. I need to find help. Although my body is hurting everywhere, I can still feel the fear of being alone blossoming through me from my core.

"Angel?" I call, but my throat is so sore and scratched that it comes out much quieter than I intended. "Angel?" I try again. This time, it's louder.

I realize that my hands are empty. The Glock is on the ground beside me, so I reach over to grab it. It takes time and a whole lot of painful effort. Staring at the concrete, my fingers finally close around the gun. I breathe a sigh of relief, closing my eyes and letting myself sit back against the wall.

When I finally open my eyes, there is an exterminator three yards ahead of me. My breath hitches in my windpipe and I almost choke on it. The exterminator's flickering white eyes get big as it stares at me. Fresh prey, sitting helpless on the ground, bleeding and weak and foolish.

I raise my pistol and shoot. It hits the exterminator's shoulder, but all it seems to do is make the creature's coruscating eyes to turn red. A whole new fear seeps down my body.

"Just kill me," I tell the soulless murder machine. "I don't care anymore. Just make it fast."

It's true. I really don't care anymore.

My family is gone. My life is gone. My sanity is gone. I am gone. Letting go of the fear, I realize how much love and life I used to have and how much of it is gone now.

I wish I had a blunt and a bottle of vodka to enjoy before dying.

But instead of stabbing me, the exterminator jerks back and falls to the ground in a heap, as if my words were really bullets shooting out of my mouth, aiming to kill the thing. Craning my neck up and backwards in a whole twisty mess, I see Angel standing on the roof of the building above me. He waves down at me. "Funny seeing you here!" he shouts cheerfully. I grin. My mouth is full of blood - I can taste it mingling with my spit.

Angel leaps down and lands swiftly on his feet. Then, he drops his gun (which was a sniping rifle, to my surprise) and scoops me in a tight hug with all of his arms.

Giggling, I hug him back. "I thought you were dead, Barbie! Don't scare me like that again."

"I scared you? That's an accomplishment."

He laughs.

My arm is still aching, as if someone had punched it to oblivion and there was nothing but a massive bruise there. In reality, there was a huge bleeding gash in my arm. A bruise would be quite a nice replacement. Muddled thoughts are floating through my head, and if I try really hard, I can make out a few of them.

"Vaggie," I say. "Did you find them?"

Angel shakes his head. I nod in response.

"Let's go then," I say.

We jog silently down the street. There are cars, most unmoving. Occasionally, a vehicle will zoom by, and Angel and I will have to dive out of their way. Other cars look like they've crashed to a stop.

The humid air is quiet. There aren't many sounds, other a few screams and crashes here and there, but they are distant. I hear lots of gunshots, though. Some quiet and rapid, others loud and slow.

"Vaggie, stop!" I hear someone shout. I can't recognize the voice, but it must be coming from Charlie. I look at Angel, see the familiar rush in his eyes, then feel the adrenaline buzz in my own body. My vision is still fuzzy from the loss of blood, and my running is slower, but I still follow Angel as he darts towards the shouts.

Between two short buildings, in a skinny alley, we see them. Three exterminators, one aiming at Vaggie, who is standing guard in-front of Charlie. Behind Charlie is a round egg-looking thing. He was probably the citizen Charlie was trying to protect. The other two exterminators look up to stare at us with uncertainty.

My face turns hot as I watch the center exterminator's eyes go red. With a hateful grin on it's face, it hurls the spear into Vaggie's stomach. I gag as Vaggie falls forward onto her knees. Charlie cries out and falls down beside her friend.

As the exterminator is reaching to pull the spear from Vaggie's gut, I make a split second decision and shoot the ugly thing square in the head. Angel already has his machine gun and is firing wildly at the other two. One of them has shot at Angel, but missed. How Angel always dodges those spears is a mystery to me.

Once they've all fallen to the ground in lifeless piles of limb, I remember that Vaggie was hit. Blood is pumping through me, hot and vile and filled with energy. Running to Vaggie, I ignore Charlie and fall beside her. Her mouth is open, choking on blood. Her pale hands are closed tight around the spear in her body. Her visible eye won't move. It is trained on the ground, still and black and glassy.

"Vaggie," I say softly, grabbing her under the chin, guiding her gaze to me. "Hey, Vaggie. This might sound silly, but you look beautiful right now. Absolutely stunning. Listen to me now, okay? Nothing else. Tune everything else out. I'm going to help, alright?" I continue talking to her, just as Angel had talked to me. In all honesty, I don't know if what I'm about to do is going to help. It might just make everything worse.

It might even seal her fate. For good.

"You know, I have always been jealous of your hair," I say, snapping most of the handle off of the spear. Now there is just the head and a few inches of pole attached to her body.

"Don't push it through," Charlie says frantically. "It might puncture something important or cause her to become paralyzed from the waist down."

The spear isn't in too deep. I could try to pull it out the way it had come.

"I'll pull it out," I say quietly to Charlie. "Don't worry. It won't hurt anything inside of her, but have some bandages or cloth ready, okay? There is going to be a lot of blood." Charlie nods.

I'm not actually sure, though. About it hurting anything inside of her. I have no idea what I am doing, really. Just taking a wild guess.

My good hand grips the pole tighter. My bad hand rests on Vaggie's cheek. Then, although it hurts like a bitch, I raise my bad arm to brush hair away from the other side of Vaggie's face, revealing the spot where her other eye should be. There is nothing there but a large black X mark.

I blink, but it seems normal to me, considering the day's events.

"Look at me Vaggie. Look at me and trust me. Relax, you will be okay. You will be okay."

I cut myself off when I jerk the rest of the spear from her gut.

Her white dress is bloodstained.

Author's note:
this is the third chapter i posted today, so as you can tell, i have been writing a lot lately. for some reason, i have been in the mood to write a bunch. i like writing though, so it's good. thanks for all of the love and support you guys <3