The Hooded Girl

IIX

The girl stared up at the barrier. Her arms were crossed, shoulders tight. Her hood was still up, more out of habit than need; she felt safer, even felt a little bit braver with it. She continued to combat the reluctance that gripped her, a hesitation that she had determined wasn't entirely natural.

She was going to do it. She was going to walk right past this sign, and down Harroway Boulevard. But no, she couldn't. Why would she? There was no reason, no need, no –

It was hard to fight off those negative thoughts. They were coming from a place outside herself, beyond her control. Like somebody thumbing bulletins into her brain. Each little odd thought was like a pinprick; they were just noticeable enough. New and strange ideas filled her brain each time she felt the sensation, all of them dissuading and frightening. She almost believed them, too.

But she hadn't come back to stand there and argue with herself. 92 Riethoorn Way, the guy had said. Dexter. If that was his real name. He had known what she was, and she had felt much the same about him. His heart, his eyes – like the other one she'd stole from. She couldn't let this go. No matter how scared she might've been when she'd ran into this "Dexter" guy. The name her mother had told her to seek rang through her mind. Alexander var Reven.

She'd gone through that final conversation with her mother, over and over again, first thing when she woke up, in the final moments before she fell asleep. She had ideas as to what her mother meant. She knew some things about her past. But there was so little that made sense.

If there was even a chance Alexander var Reven could make her understand...

She had nothing to lose. She sucked a breath, held it. Her lungs tightened. Her stomach felt queasy. She closed her eyes. She stepped past the sign

It was the oddest sensation she'd ever felt. Her whole body tingled for a split second, like all her nerves had flatlined. For an instant, she thought she was dead. But then she heard the birds. Birds she'd heard in the woods that surrounded her home, but never in the city. The whooshing of the cars on Yonge Street had died, and replacing it was the crisp rustling of leaves. The air was warm and humid, like she was in the thick of summer. She smelt flowers, sweet and savory.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see a meadow, or a forest. She was also about ready to freak the hell out about the blank spot she'd be drawing between where she'd just been and where she now was. She was ready to realize that she had gone insane.

But no. Instead, she just saw three guys standing in front of her. Two looked almost exactly the same, exactly like the Dexter guy. But that wasn't what really made her stomach twist and flutter.

It was the fact that the guy whose wallet she'd stole mere hours ago stood at the forefront, eyeing her with a look that made her perfectly aware that he knew damn well what she did.

It was a brief, lightning-fast oh shit moment. One that they would laugh about years later. The hooded girl twirled around, taking one and a half steps towards the barrier. Only the tips of her fingers made it through the other side, before the guy she'd stolen from had her.

He'd leapt after her, looping his arms around her midsection and yanking her back, half through that nerve-tingling sensation of the barrier. He hadn't expected much, clearly, because the girl, hood half-fallen down her head, managed to push her way out of his grip. But only for a second.

The guy quickly grabbed her again; she was sloppy, although she didn't realize it. He looped a strong hand around her forearm, twisting it around and behind her. She cursed; she kicked his shins, hard, harder than he'd thought she could. But all it did was make him angry. He pulled up tighter on her arm.

"LET GO OF ME!" the girl screeched, loud and desperate so that all could hear.

"Can't... can't do that..." he growled, struggling with her as she started to kick. "Can you two – OW! Fuck! Help me!"

"You seem to be doin' alright on your own, boss," the one guy said. Already, the girl knew this was none other than the Dexter guy.

"LET GO OF ME! LET GO OF ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW! HELP! HE—"

The girl had never felt so scared, nor so ready to chop someone up than she did in that moment. She would bite, kick, punch, tear, kill. She thrashed, and almost broke away, when the other Dexter looking guy locked gazes with her. Before she knew it, she couldn't look away.

She felt the strangest sense of serenity envelope her. Like she was melting. She felt her heard start to loll, like she was about ready to sleep. She felt so blissful, so relaxed, all the while reminding herself that clearly, these guys were not planning on letting her go.

They're going to kidnap me. Kidnap me and torture me and rape me and kill me and bury me in a shallow grave. I'm going to die. Those thoughts extended into the worst possible scenarios, all the while maintaining a sick, sweet air of relaxation. They were casual. She knew she should've fought them, screamed, did everything in her power. But she couldn't bring herself to. It was like waking up to an early alarm, and lying in bed for the next while, knowing you had to get up, but feeling perfectly content to just lie there.