chapter 7: the taking

The semester had flown by to August's surprise.

November went by slowly, probably because she spent every waking moment on the lookout for her daily stalkers. She began to recognize them, realizing that there were about five of them who would each take turns watching her. Her friends never noticed them, the hooded figures constantly following shortly behind them everywhere they went.

Willow never showed up again. August cursed herself for feeling disappointed that her near-murderer had vanished, but the night on the rooftop had made her feel somewhat safer. Willow didn't just stalk her like the others did—she actually talked to her. She had a personality and a darkness that for some reason drew August towards her. She found herself late at night dreaming about the way she handed her the cigarette and the way she had spoken her name off her tongue like it was dripping honey.

Every time August was dragged to a party by Peyton and Emilia and a guy would get too close for comfort, she would reach into her pocket and squeeze the green lighter. She never had to pull it out on anybody, but she always squeezed it when she felt unsafe, even as December rolled around and she began seeing the stalkers less and less everyday, until by the end of her semester she was seemingly no longer being stalked.

"When are you going home?" Peyton inquired as she packed her clothes into her dark purple suitcase, trying to stuff in every last pair of ripped jeans and Converses.

"In a week," August mumbled and adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose, holding a book above her face as she mentally returned to her reading position that had been interrupted by Peyton—for the fortieth time. She would have the next seven days in her dorm by herself to read in peace, since she couldn't get a plane back to Texas until the very eve of Christmas.

Peyton turned towards August, donning her ugly Christmas sweater that was covered in fuzzy peppermint-colored balls and a red fuzzball in the middle of Rudolph the reindeer's face. "What do you think?" she excitedly asked August.

The brunette glared at the blonde through her reading glasses, her roommate's excitement about the sweater making her sick. "It looks like you kidnapped an elf and forced him into being a laborer in your Christmas sweater-making factory and he made that under intense pressure at the sweaty, crowded, poorly air-conditioned factory. Then he probably got very drunk after a meeting from the worker's union and went back to add the peppermint balls."

Peyton rolled her eyes and turned away. "What a ray of sunshine you are."

August suddenly remembered when Willow had called her "sunshine" on the rooftop almost two months ago. She cleared her throat as if it would also clear her mind, not wanting to remember that woman or the situation she put her in. She was far over the whole deal, simply ready to go home for Christmas break and then return and start another semester brand new.

After finally finishing packing all her clothes and makeup and other accessories that she needed, Peyton sighed and wiped the back of her hand against her sweaty forehead. "I'm all done." Looking at her watch, she looked back to August with puppy eyes and pouted lips. "It's 4:15... I have to leave to catch my flight in time."

August set her book down, sitting up and taking her round glasses off her face. "Well, have fun in Indiana, wherever the hell that is."

"Hey! We provide you with bountiful and beautiful corn, alright. You should be thanking my gracious and fruitful home state." Peyton raised up on her toes, adding the effect to her sarcasm.

Simply chuckling as she set her glasses down on the nightstand, August sat up and walked over to Peyton, immediately wrapping her arms around the slightly taller girl and giving her a hug. Peyton hugged back tightly, and the two stayed like that for a few moments before releasing.

"Try not to suck too much dick while you're back at home," August joked with a straight face, plopping back down on her bed.

"I mean, I'll try. I'll be too busy dealing with my parents who are signing their divorce papers literally tomorrow," the blonde grumbled, picking up her bags.

"Ew, have fun with that." August watched as her roommate, who had grown to be her close friend, gathered all her things.

"I won't." Peyton began walking towards the door before turning to August. "Remember that you, Emilia, and I have to group FaceTime at some point!"

August thought of her other friend who left earlier that day dressed in her own ugly Christmas sweater, donning the two black buns on top of her head that had become a usual style of hers. "I will. Have a safe flight, Pey!"

"Alright, bye, Auggie!" Peyton sang as she opened the door, squeezed herself and all her bags through it, and then closed it.

"Bye!" August had yelled right before Peyton closed the dorm door.

Looking around her now half-empty room, August sighed and felt a loneliness wash over her, something she rarely experienced. She usually loved being alone, but she had grown accustomed to Peyton ripping open the curtains at 6:30 A.M. every morning on the dot, and her singing along to the Beatles every time she took showers—which were always very long and left August impatiently waiting for her turn. But now, August was left alone, and she knew she should feel happy to not be bothered or pestered by anyone, but she still couldn't shake that lonely feeling.

Reclining against her bed frame, August thought about her dad and sister whom she would be flying to on Christmas Eve and staying with until New Years. She missed them very dearly and also missed her home state of Texas. December in New York was not very fun for the Texas-native girl who craved to feel the beating Southern sun and warm afternoons again.

The soft afternoon sunlight drifting through her window beat down on her thick sweater, giving her that feeling of being in the sun again. She softly smiled, as a drowsiness accompanied that warm, tranquil feeling.

Remembering that she had nothing better to do, she pulled her sweater over her head, leaving herself in just a black tank top since she had the habit of overheating in her sleep, and allowed herself to drift off into slumber, dreaming of seeing her toothless Daisy and being in her old room again.

♠

"August," whispered a fluidic voice in the distant. The voice was familiar and so was the way it pronounced her name. It sent a shiver down her spine, even in her sleep.

"August," they repeated, except more urgently. August's eyes were glued shut, and her body was limp from sleep. She was awake, right? Or was she dreaming? She couldn't figure out which was one it was, or why there was someone calling her name.

"August!" the voice now yelled, and August's dark eyes appeared beneath her long eyelashes, wide-eyed at the sight in front of her.

The green cat eyes that she hadn't seen in nearly two months were staring right into her own, boring through her soul the way they did the second she had first saw them. She noticed the arched eyebrows above them and the small nose and plump limps below them. Strands of black hair outlined the face and tickled her own bare shoulders, making her shudder.

"Willow," August whispered, her eyes squinting. She hadn't seen the woman in so long, and her mind clamored as to why she was there in her dorm at night. The only way she knew it was night was because of the blue shadows on Willow's face and because everything was much quieter than it was in the daytime—much too quieter, in fact.

A cold, slender hand slithered up and pressed against her lips, pushing them down so that they could not open. Her senses began to wake up, as fear tingled every inch of skin that the older woman touched.

"Shhhh," Willow hushed the young girl, pressing her knee down against the girl's thighs in case she freaked out and tried to thrash like she did before.

"Willow?" August incoherently mumbled underneath her hand, her eyes finally awakening and widening at the force with which Willow held August's legs down.

"You have to be quiet," Willow urgently whispered, watching as fear began to sink into the young girl's eyes, causing a hint of guilt to rise in the pit of Willow's stomach. She didn't want to do the alternative option she brought along with her just in case August wouldn't cooperate, but she wouldn't be surprised if she would have to use that alternative option—from the times she met August, she had observed that she was not the type to go down without a fight. It was a respectable but incredibly frustrating personality trait.

August started trying to speak under the force of Willow's hands, but her words were muffled. She brought her free hands up and started pushing against Willow's shoulders, trying to get loose. The girl was pushing as hard as she could, and Willow did have to put in an effort to stay put over the girl, but the girl was, nonetheless no match for Willow's strength.

"I'm sorry, August," Willow muttered as she picked up a rag, having no choice but to use the alternative option.

Still thrashing about, August felt Willow's hands remove themselves from her mouth, and of course she was going to take this opportunity to scream as loud as she possibly could, but before anything could even leave her voice box, a rag was placed right under her nose, replacing the hand and again silencing her cries. She glared at the woman who hovered over her and only stared at her with slight hints of concern in her cool green eyes. August kept pushing roughly against the woman's muscular shoulders, even digging her nails as deep as she could into her skin, but it was all to no avail as the woman didn't budge or even flinch.

Suddenly, her arms began to slow down. They felt heavy, as if they gained a thousand pounds within one second and were swimming through a sea of thick molasseses. Her heart rate and breathing even began to slow as the heaving of her chest eased up.

It was then that August could smell the tartness of the rag. Having been too busy thrashing about before, she hadn't noticed the bitter chemical smell of the cloth pressed firmly against her nostrils. She had been breathing the smell in for the last fifteen seconds without even realizing it.

It was then that she realized what the rag was there for.

But before she could further comprehend anything, her eyelids turned to weights and drooped over her eyes, her small body suddenly becoming limp underneath Willow's. The older woman kept the rag beneath her nostrils, making sure that the girl was completely unconscious before removing it along with her knee from the girl's now slightly bruised thigh.

"Shit," she hissed, running a gentle hand over the red and purple marks. The girl had bruised faster than a peach. Sighing, she placed the rag back into her bag and stared down at the limp girl. She looked very still—more still than most people were when they inhaled chloroform. Worry began to take over Willow's mind. What if she used too much chloroform or had the rag at the girl's nose for too long? What if she suffocated her?

Stepping closer, Willow found herself afraid of the tiny person in front of her. She was, for the first time in her life, worried that she had killed somebody. She decided it was only because the girl was very young and was more innocent than most girls her age.

Either way, she didn't necessarily need this person dead, so she placed two fingers at the top corner of the girl's soft throat, holding her breath as she waited for a heartbeat. When she finally got one, and after making sure August was properly breathing, Willow backed away from the girl and sighed, turning around to look around the dorm. She didn't have very much time to do what she needed to do.