geist candy

Candy's parents told her that she would die out there on the streets. Maybe, secretly, they hoped she would. Honestly, though, she never thought it was that bad. The quiet was refreshing. The sound of passing cars and idle conversation from passerby was blissful silence compared to the constant screaming and bitching that underscored her life before. She could handle the smell of exhaust and garbage, as long as it wasn't stale beer from thrown bottles or mold growing in the filthy shag carpet of the trailer. How could two people live in such filth and constant anger? Maybe it was easier for her to understand than most. Constant noise and aggression meant never letting her guard down, not seeing anything but what's right in front of you.

If there was one good thing it had given her, she was well-equipped for her new life. Any other girl would have ended up with some awful fate by some guy who said just the right words. Not Candy. Even the boldest potential predator didn't want to deal with getting shanked in the stomach, and the second she made her intentions clear by flashing her knife, they would back off. She was hard, already trained to never show an inch of vulnerability or the whole would would descend on her.

Which is why it was so strange when she met the one who would eventually kill her. He seemed so innocuous at first, a big, awkward man that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. He didn't do a single thing that would out him as someone dangerous, but something about him just /disgusted/ her. His movements were wrong, his voice grated even though he barely spoke. She never knew if it was just her imagination, but even when he did say something, it seemed somehow insulting, no matter what it was.

She tried to avoid him, but no matter where she went, he was there. He had to be stalking her, she thought. He never did a thing, oftentimes didn't even look at her, but she could feel him drive her out of her mind. This uncomfortable man was planning something. He had to be. But where could she turn? No one would care about the safety of some homeless girl. There was only one thing to do. At first it seemed insane, but the more she saw him the more something whispered to her that it was the right thing to do.
She would track him down, and she would kill him herself.

It was easy to find his hiding spot. The next time she saw him out somewhere it was her turn to stalk him. He noticed pretty quickly, waking faster, but she didn't let up. There was something satisfying, seeing him have that same fear that he'd inflicted on her. He tried to shut the door of those abandoned apartments behind him, but she picked the lock. She drew her knife and he just stared at her with that dumb, horrible look on his face.

He didn't even fight back when she drove the knife into him. Didn't flinch. Barely showed any pain. She plunged it into him, again and again but he wouldn't die. The only thing that changed was the look on his face. The idiot fear gave way to something darker, like fire and smoke and pure hatred behind his eyes. Only now did she notice the immense strength bristling through his body. In those seconds as he wrapped his hands around her head, she swear she saw sparks jump across his form.

She only had those few seconds to feel fear, because soon the world went dark as he snapped her neck.

--
She woke back up to the feeling of those same hands on her body. She was stripped completely naked, but there was nothing sinister about his touches. They were gentle, reverent, and as the sight returned to her dead eyes she could see an intense sadness in his face. In his hands he held a large needle that trailed some thick leather thread, that he was tracing along her skin, from the base of her neck to under her arms in some careful, deliberate motion.

It took him a moment to realize that she was breathing once more. He yelped, dropping the needle as she sat back up, alive as she'd ever been. Even as she herself screamed at the sheer shock of the situation, she looked at him and, for the first time, he didn't repulse her. She was still terrified of him, since he killed her and all, but he wasn't inherently disgusting like he had been. He didn't make a single move to stop her, even setting out her clothes for her as she hastily put them on and bolted from the room.

It was halfway down the street that she realized that she wasn't alone. Something followed her, something she felt before she saw. It was like a roiling thundercloud surrounding her, static electricty and frustration flooding the air. It wasn't merely a feeling, there was an intent and intelligence behind it, thought even if it was rather base. She had to look for a moment to find the source, but eventually she found it.

It was surprisingly still for the intense emotion that was pouring out of it, a simplified figure of a lion carved from amber, sitting down with its mouth wrapped around a rough, unshaped ball of copper. Within its golden body rue and nasturtium were frozen in stasis, as absolutely motionless as the rest of the creature. And yet its eyes were very much alive, the two points as bright and fierce as a lightning bolt, and she shuddered when she looked into them. She tried to pick it up and it disappeared from underneath her hands. But she could still feel it watching her, staring straight through her.

Everywhere she looked, the thing would be somewhere within vision. It didn't take long to put together that this thing, whatever it was, was what had returned her to life.

And it would keep watching, seeing what she would do next.