Damsel On the Tracks

She supposed it was like a race. There she was, alone on the racetrack, and through the darkness she could hear footfalls coming her way. She wasn't in her track clothes, having gone straight to the athletic field as soon as the last bell had gone. But then again, she usually wasn't sitting on the tartan, and she usually wasn't tied up.

In a silly sort of way she wished that what ties her wrists behind her were actual rope. Partly because the material that bound her was much too soft to make this a stereotypical kidnapping, and partly because she had really like the sweater that had been torn to make her bindings. The sun had set maybe an hour ago, and she began to wonder how long she'd been sitting there.

What had first sounded like heavy running steps slowed and quieted to a calculated walk. There were maybe four or five people approaching, and she had no idea who they were. Clearing her throat she managed to somehow croak out, "This isn't funny you guys." A sixth sense told her that this definitely wasn't a joke, even though she tried to ignore it.

A warm sensation began to trickle down the back of her ear. She tried to rub it against her shoulder, but did little to alleviate the feeling. It was like one of her cartilage piercings had just been freshly pierced, but she knew she had gotten that done years ago, at thirteen. Another phantom wound began to bleed its intangible blood on her knee, then at her lips.

For most of her life she had experienced this sensation. Old wounds would feel like they were bleeding, but the skin would always appear whole and untouched. At times the flow of blood down the back of her ear would reach her neck, and begin down the rest of her body. She had always managed to ignore it, since it didn't hurt and often faded away. In this case, however, the feeling intensified, and it felt like every cut and scrape she had gotten since birth had opened up.

The steps had almost slowed to a dead stop, but she knew that whatever it was stood right behind her. She felt like she was covered in blood, but her clothing remained dry and unstained. Cold breath wafted across the back of her neck, and her hair stood on end. Who has cold breath? What has cold breath?