// Marcel Styles P.O.V //

Pain.

My foot caught on the estranged string of the rug responsible for my many previous injuries. I truly despise that work of fabric. Pain shot up through my knees as they took most of the blow. I bounded back to my feet, wincing in the process. Rug burns hurt like a unicorn horn rammed up your butt… wait, what?

“Marcel?”

Flinging myself towards the door after snatching my jacket off the coat rack, the draft of the September air sharply nipped at the damp skin under my eyes, my half-dried tears nearly turning solid.

I took the car keys from my pocket, starting the car as well as unlocking the car’s door with a single press of the button in my hand. Stooping into the interior of the car proved to be more difficult with blurred vision. Yanking my glasses off, I brushed the welling, hot tears from under my eyes.

“Marcel!”

I jumped into the seat. It took three jams for the key to actually make it into the ignition, and by the time Harry stepped outside, I was already pulling out of the driveway. Edward’s car was gone, his tire tracks left behind on the driveway and partially on the road. He had gotten a head start.

Harry’s hands dragged down his face in disappointment. He only stared longingly after me as I swerved around the corner and out of view.

Fresh air. Yeah, that’s all I need. Just some from fresh air. No more drama, no fighting, just me, myself, and I.

Droplets of tears landed on the console after I flicked them away. Coming to an intersection, I looked around and continued to keep in the path I was already travelling: straight. Where it was leading, I didn’t know.

The lurid, tree leaves that had not yet fallen due to it being only the start of fall, made me nauseous as I sped by thousands of them. I was thinking about turning back when the trees suddenly cleared. A road dissected into three paths. I chose the left one. It had many potholes and broken, crumbling asphalt compared to the other smooth, paved roads, but still, I chose it. It was different.

After many turns up the road, I was pretty confident...confident that I was lost and screwed. I should turn back, now... No. No more drama right now.

At last, I was able to see the scintillating daylight break through the higher thick bough branches of the trees. The place looked familiar, maybe I was going into a complete circle?

I cut the heat conditioning off to roll my windows down. The sound of rushing water in the near distance attracted me. Rocky walls surrounded either side of my view as the path became more narrow and winding, bending to the left and right every so often to reveal, I gasped, a rocky waterfall running into a white, water spring below. The mist that surrounded the downpour of massive water, gave the illusion of the white-water floating.

Children splashed in the small spring. Adults smiled, chatting with others in the clearing of long grass while they kept an eye on their little ones.

This seemed like a peaceful place to gather and collect my thoughts.



Less than a quarter of a mile further, there was a corroded space that resembled somewhat of a parking lot. I parked in a space making sure to keep at least two feet distance from any near car. Once I shut the engine off and stepped out, I heard a distinct voice.
“Tell Mama Euwella I can’t stay here. I have some errands I have to run." A car engine cranked up and roared to life.

“You sure seem fancy for some errands, Sharon," a low and mature female’s voice, replied.

“Shut up, Yvonne! You know damn well it’s my code for, “I have a date tonight.”

A child whined, and I could hear the soft patting sounds against their back. Travelling their way, I saw an off-black Toyota Corolla- to be precise, a familiar off-black Toyota Corolla.

“Sharon,” the woman with the sultry, warm, and colorful voice laughed, “when your man sees that dent in your car, you better hope he’ll stay. A man can surprisingly tell a lot about a woman after looking at how well they take care of their belongings.

“First of all, Ms. Brown, it ain’t no dent, it’s just a little mark. Second of all, I don’t see you owning any car, so you can’t stand there and tell me, “A man knows a lot about a woman who does and doesn’t take care of her belongings," when you don’t even own a damn car. Besides, you actin’ like men are psychic or some bullsh*t like that!”

“First of all, Ms. Black, it’s Mrs to you, not Ms. Brown. Lastly, at least I’m not paying interests and car mortgages.”

“Get out here with your free-loadin' ass!”

A cackle erupted from a woman with wavy, blondish-brown, long hair. She had an hourglass physique and carried a small child on her hip. Her voice sang a phrase repeatedly. “Not my fault I’m smart, eh! Eh! He-ey! It’s not my fault I’m smart! Sharon you know I'm smarter than yo-ou!”

The child on her hip went into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help but smile.
"Ain't that right, little man?" she continued to sing out.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever-”

“Aunt Fifi!” A familiar voice rang, running from the clearing of grass.

“What do you want, girl?”

“Benji needs his inhaler,” the voice I matched as Derora's, stated through heavy breaths.

“Look inside the car, it’s somewhere in there, ain’t it?”

Deciding it was best not to approach them besides the fact it would be creepy, but mainly awkward, I headed toward the clearing, trying to keep myself unnoticed...but then, I tripped on an upturned piece of asphalt. A string of long hisses fell from my mouth. Pieces of jagged asphalt had cut through the top layers of my skin, and it hurt like crap!

“Mama Mia! It burns! It burns!”
Somehow, the air surrounding me cooled a considerable degree or two, but I was so busy in my wallowing in distress, I didn't know a shadow was looming over me.

“Man, if you want to go pretending to be a ninja, take some classes in being stealthy! Oh, that sh#t was hilarious!” A voice boomed from in front of me. Byron.

I looked up to see him clutching his stomach, deeply tickled, and wiping tears from his eyes.

You know what? I think my cheeks were burning up way worse than my knees at this very moment.

“Byron! What the hell’s wrong with you? Help that poor man off that ground!”

Rough, strong hands reluctantly hauled me to my feet.

“There, I hel-”

“Boy, get your ass up to Mama Euwella’s and fix this man up!”

He smacked his lips. “But, mama-”

The woman holding the child on her hip cut him a “don’t try me” look, and suddenly I felt myself being tugged away-nearly carried.

“Byron-wait! I’ll assist you.” Derora stuffed a red inhaler in her back pocket. Her dark shoes soundlessly jogged to us in the high grass.



“Good. I wasn’t ‘bout to carry his ass all the way to Mama Euwella’s.” Once we reached the high grassed clearing, Byron let go of my arm and walked off.

“Um, Byron I think he’s about”- my knees buckled, producing moisture to overflow my eyes-"...to fall.”

“Then help him, Derora, duh,” he retorted.

“What am I supposed to do, give him a piggyback ride all the way there?” Derora gave him a crossed look.

Byron turned to give her a shrug. “Sure. Whatever floats you and Mr. Gay’s boat over there. As long as he doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” I huffed out.

“Unfortunately,” I heard him mutter under his breath.

Why did he hate me so much? He talked about me as if I were some object. Did I offend him in some way? Did I seem weird to him? I could only sigh. One day, I would be able to remove his thick layers of anger, or at least get a glimpse of the real “him”. I desperately wanted to get to know and understand the real Byron. One day...hopefully soon.

“Okay, Mr. M, hop on,” Derora said, looking at me over her shoulder.

I gaped at her. Then, my eyebrows scrunched together. She signaled to her back. Realization hit me.

“W-what? Oh, no, dear I much too heavy-”

“Take five steps without stumbling or falling.”

“Derora, if the man wants to walk, let him walk,” Byron almost growled.

Derora ignored him. “Well, go on, Mr. Styles.”

Sighing, I took my first step: shaky. I didn't see why I had to prove myself to her, additionally, she was a young lady and I was a grown man. I doubt her petite frame could take us two steps.

Grass crunched under my shoes as I stepped onto my left and then my right.

"AGGHHH!!"

Howling like I had dipped my toe in acid, I quickly hopped off of my right leg, toppling backward.
Derora caught me before I could hit the ground and put my arms over her shoulders. She twisted around. Her hands slipped around the back of my thighs and quickly pulled my legs over the curves of her hips. Man, this was embarrassing.

I was anxious to remove myself from Derora once we were on the porch of a small cabin. I must look like a bear riding on a donkey-not that she was a donkey-of course not- I’m just trying to say: I’m really huge compared to her. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered how on earth was she carrying my weight along with hers

“Um, you can put me down now, love.”

“Eh, you might trip over the threshold.”

“Haha, very funny.” Still, my arms tightened around her shoulders, my legs not removing themselves from her hips.

People approaching the cabin shot me strange looks. An elderly woman with a cane made from a sturdy tree branch hobbled out the front cabin door. She had long grey and white hair, knobby, but sturdy looking hands, and a set look on her wise face.

“Young child, who is you bringin’ to my porch. Hmm...looks a bit thin to be a sacrifice, don’cha think, Derora?”

“Uh,” I laughed, nervously, “what?”

Byron gave me a serious and tense look.

“Now where is that darn voodoo doll and my knife? Jar’din! Go fetch it.”

"Oh, sh^t..." Byron mouthed as he looked at Derora.

“Yes, ma’am,” a bass and monotonous voice filled the room.

I was a tad bit apprehensive. She looked like one of those superstitious types that took their superstitions seriously.

I heard the returning off footsteps. A broad African-American male handed her a white doll tied with sheets and rubber bands.

“Now, just of a snap of the neck should do the trick.”

Her knobby hands wrangled what was supposed to be a neck, and I waited for something to happen. Nothing.

“Give me my knife and bring that skinny twig of a man here. I need some of his blood for this to work.”

The broad man reached for me, but Derora backed away, shaking her head.

“Just slit his throat Jar’din, and get his blood on the doll," her croaky tone was exasperated.

The man grabbed the knife and aimed it at me, swinging several times but missing.

“NOOO!” I screamed, grabbing my throat, ducking every way I possibly could. Derora slightly lost her balance so I caught her shoulders instinctively. I closed my eyes, wetness rolled from my cheeks as I buried my face in the crook of Derora's neck for a sense of security as the man swung again.

Notes

Filler...

Wow...over a month for this lousy chapter...Man I've been brain dead.