"I always had a desire to inflict pain on others and to have others inflict pain on me. I always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt."

- Albert Fish, was an American serial killer . He was also known as the Gray Man, the Werewolf of Wysteria, the Brooklyn Vampire, the Moon Maniac, and The Boogey Man. A child rapist and a cannibal, he boasted that he "had children in every state", and at one time stated the number was about 100. He was executed by electric chair.

Chapter 33

We drove until the sun began to rise like a blooming cherry blossom on the horizon, casting a hue of pink over the morning sky. Heart soaring with the birds that flew in between the trees, I felt as if nothing could shoot me down.

The car began to slow as Vans pulled into a small suburban park, across the road from a service station. Getting out of the car, he came to my door and opened it for me, offering his hand. My hand warmed with the interlocking of our fingers. It just seemed to me like I was destined to forever hold myself in his arms.

Taking two water bottles from the back seat, he pulled me towards a bench in the middle of the park.

"Why are we stopping? Shouldn't we continue driving?" I asked, squeezing his hand.

"We aught to stop for a moment. I am tired and need a break from driving. We will only be a moment, then we will continue." He smiled down at me and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. Looking upon his face, I realised just how exhausted he looked. Large dark circles formed under both of his eyes, his hair was clumped together with old sweat, and the bruise on his forehead looked green and tender. I didn't doubt that I looked the same, probably worse; with makeup smudged and puffy eyes from all the tears I had cried.

My eyes ached from sleeplessness, but I was not tired. I felt wired, like I was on a constant charge, waiting for the moment that my energy would be needed.

When we reached the bench, I sat on one side, leaving plenty of room for Vans. He looked at me as I cracked open my drink bottle and stared at the empty park and quiet streets; it was far too early in the morning for anyone but fugitives from stirring from their warm and comfortable beds. I swallowed the cold water, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid travelling down my throat and into my stomach, satisfying my thirst.

Vans slumped onto the bench and continued to stare as I drank half the bottle of water. I turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and waited for him to say what was on his mind. But instead, I was surprised when he leaned over and placed a delicate kiss on my lips and then placed his head upon my lap. He stretched his legs out over the other side of the bench and fidgeted until he found the squishy part of my thigh.

"Wake me up when you see someone coming." He mumbled, but he barley finished the sentence before he fell into a light sleep. I sighed and sunk my fingers into his thick hair, stroking his head to the rise and fall of his chest. It didn't matter much if someone did see us; he had changed out of his prison clothes in the car into some of my fathers old clothes, I had changed, and I had tied my hair back slick so it would look more brown than blonde. On top of that, we had passed not a single police car on our drive and the radio updated us constantly on their position. They were driving the opposite direction to us, pursuing a couple that had been spotted with a likeness to us in a café.

The sparrows chirped softly in the trees above me, the leaves brushed against each other, creating the language of the morning. Like the wings of the birds, my eyes fluttered shut.

Time passed and the sun rose a little more. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the trees, piercing my eyes and waking me from my slumber. There was no longer a weight upon my legs, Vans was gone. I had forgotten to keep watch for people and had stupidly fallen asleep; I began to panic, thinking we were doomed. I jerked myself awake and rose from the bench in a frenzy. But before I could stand, I was thrown back onto the bench, my arm screaming as my shoulder tore from its socket.

A screamed as pain as hot as fire burned through my shoulder and I collapsed back onto the bench. I looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the pain. And there it was; one of my wrists was handcuffed to the bench.

"Vans!" I cried out, hoping he could free me from the restraint and at the same time hoping he had gotten away. The police could take me away, but not him. I had made too many sacrifices for his freedom, and mine, to let him be captured and sent back to that hell.

I tried to pull against the metal strapped around my wrist, but my shoulder flared up once more. The bracelet only scrapped the metal leg it was wrapped around; the only way it was coming off was with a key.

"Vans!" I screamed again, my heart thudding loudly. My voice cracked and I frantically pulled at the handcuff once more before I collapsed onto the bench, defeated. My chest heaved as tears broke, my shoulders shaking. How could I have been so stupid to fall asleep? The police had found us, and had probably killed Vans.

A rustling came from the trees behind me. I spun around, ready to face the officer that had ruined my chance at paradise. A body emerged from the bushes; I tensed, and then cried out.

Vans stumbled through the undergrowth, dirt and blood covering one side of his face. My heart fell and a sob shook through my chest. The thought of what might have happened to him crippled me, for who would want to destroy such a beautiful man? He staggered over to me, eyes scanning the park for any signs of movement, holding the bleeding side of his face. When he reached my side, he fell onto his knees and cradled my face in his hands, breaths heavy and loud.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He turned my face to the side to check for any injuries but found only the remains of the bruise inflicted a few days earlier.

"I think—I think I did something to my shoulder." I stammered, a tear rolling down my cheek. Were the police going to appear and tear him from me once again? The thought of losing him causes my body to break down again and again until a hole appeared in my chest and I fell through, down through the earth and through blood, through the galaxy and through time, until I slammed into the darkness of the abyss.

"Emily!" Vans slapped my cheek and brought water to my forehead, throwing a fishing line down the hole and catching me once again. "Emily, stay with me!"

And just like that, I was reeled back in, drawn back to reality. A putrid smell engulfed my nose, like rotten food and burnt sugar, burning through my sinuses and drawing bile to my throat. I pushed Vans' aside and vomited the water, and stomach acid, I had drank earlier in the morning.

A cackle greeted my ears, much like a child's laughter does when one lives alone; sending great chills down my spine, immobilising my limbs, freezing my blood.

I turned my head slowly, not believing my ears or my heart, which had stopped in my chest. But I had to believe my eyes.

Vans crouched on the ground in front of me, head in between his legs, shoulders shaking with the laughter that bellowed from his throat. His blue eyes glistened with fresh tears, tears of laughter. I was frozen, with the exception of my aching shoulder, out of fear and uncertainty. What would cause a man to laugh in a time like that?

He slowly tilted his head up, chuckling softly, and gazed at me through the hair that fell over his eyes. Lifting up a finger, he dragged his index nail over his bloody cheek, leaving behind a streak of pale skin amongst the red gunk that covered his face. He waved the nail in front of me, and the same sweet smell invaded my nostrils, before delicately placing his finger in his mouth. He sucked the gunk from beneath his nail and sighed, a wild smile on his face.

"Don't you just love the taste of tomato?" He said softly, another fit of chuckles racking through his chest.

I blinked, confused, and leaned back into my seat. What was I supposed to think? Before I could question him, and everything I was feeling, he raked another finger through the blood on his face and shoved it into my mouth. I cried out, disgusted and spat the substance from my mouth, gagging at its sweetness. It only took me a moment to realise it was not real blood, but tomato, as he had said. He must have gotten it from the service station, risking our identification.

"Wha—why?" I stammered, yanking on the handcuffs.

He continued to laugh, doubled over and held his stomach. I sneered at his attempt at a joke. This was no laughing matter; because of his stunt, I had badly hurt my shoulder and nearly had a mental breakdown. I just wanted to be free and get back onto the road. We didn't have time for practical jokes.

"Oh relax, Emily! I was just trying to lighten the mood!" He laughed and stumbled back over to me, cooing.

"It wasn't funny." I spat, holding my injured shoulder in my hand. "Can you unlock my from these cuffs now? I want to go." I rattled the chain against the metal leg of the bench. But Vans just continued to smile at me.

"Come on, Emily. It was just a joke." He said, laughing, "But this isn't." His smile distorted, corners pulling crookedly up to his cheeks, eyes narrowing, and teeth glinting sharp. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled a gun from his pants and placed its cool metal barrel onto my forehead. Like a caged canary, I tried to flutter my wings and escape the soundlessness of my voice, but to no avail. I was caught in the cage I had made for myself, and I could not escape.

"I'm afraid I cant let you go, sweetheart."

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The next chapter will be long, as it will be the last.

xx Charli

(This chapter is not edited)