It was cold and drizzly and dead on Route 9. Leigh leaned back in her seat, and listened to her older brothers, Cory and Dan, talk about video games in the front seat. They would probably talk about that for the next two hours, and Leigh didn't really want to listen to them until noon.

She studied the backs of their heads, something she hadn't done in years. Cory had dark, almost black, hair, and pale white skin. Dan on the other hand was a redhead, with so many freckles on his light brown arms they looked like a second tan.
"I don't know why you insist on always playing in Trammel with your crafter," Cory said lightly, one hand on the steering wheel and one spread open out the window.
There was a hint of playful sarcasm in Dan's response, "As opposed to?"
"Fel, of course. You'd get double leather and wool. It'd be so much easier."
Dan sighed, "Yeah, I'd get double if I could ever get around to killing any sheep and cows in Fel. Reds would find me before I could even get to the farm."
"Not true. You could always make Leigh bring Aradia to protect you," Cory looked at Leigh through the rearview mirror. "Right?"
"No," Cory raised his eyebrows at her. Leigh sighed and continued, "Why would I bring my Blue alchemist? I'd bring Chelsea, she's my Red mage."
"Whatever."
Dan turned to look at his sister, and grinned when she rolled her eyes and pointed at Cory. She snickered, and Cory shot her a look, which only made her giggle harder.
Then there was a crunch and the car leapt forward and over, skidding off the road into a ditch. Cory slammed on the brakes and barely managed to stop the car from sliding into a river. Dan and Leigh were pitched forward, but no one was injured.
The other car, an F-150, was stopped on the road. The driver got out, and walked around the front, a frown on his face. He started shouting, and Cory threw open his door, angry.
"You fucker!" the driver yelled. "Look at my bumper!"
"Me? Look at my trunk!" Cory screamed back. "You're the one who hit me!"
They continued, and Dan unbuckled his seat belt, turning to look at Leigh.
"Are you okay?"
Leigh nodded, and the two watched their brother and the other driver in silence. Cory was trying to calm him down, but it wasn't working. The man just got angrier and angrier. While they watched the passenger's door of the truck opened, and a young man jumped out. He was tall and gangly, with a shock of unkempt brown hair and pale skin. He wore a pair of black trousers and a very cliché black trench coat.
His eyes scanned Cory and then turned to Cory's car, passing lightly over Dan and landing on Leigh. His look was cold, fathomless, and Leigh felt her soul shrink under his scrutiny. He walked up to the car, circling around the back, and approached Dan's window.
He made a fist, and rapped on it, motioning for Dan to step out of the car. Dan obliged, and Leigh followed, not wanting to leave Dan alone with the strange man.
"You know, it was his fault," the man said to Dan, pointing at Cory.
Anger clouded Dan's eyes and he frowned. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out; Dan had never been good with confrontations. The strange man smiled again, a sick, twisted grin that made Leigh's stomach lurch into her throat.
He reached inside his coat, and Leigh's insides froze. Time suddenly seemed to be going in slow motion, as the man pulled out a Cobra (see, she thought as she watched this, there is a reason for playing video games. I know my guns) and aimed at Dan. He pulled the trigger and as the bullet, a howling, spitting, deadly entity, entered Dan's head time caught up. Leigh found herself standing next to his corpse, slumped against the car, spattered with blood, brain matter, and bone fragments.
She was too shocked to hear Cory scream, as the driver pulled a fishing knife out of his belt and disemboweled him. She didn't see him twitch in the pool of his own intestines. She didn't see his eyes glaze over, his mouth frozen in an O. The man who had shot Dan wrenched her head up, and swung something at her. It connected solidly with the side of her head. The force of it plus Leigh's already fragile emotional state forced her mind into overload and she blacked out.

The first thing Leigh noticed as she began to wake was a throbbing pain just above her left ear and a milky greyness in her sight. Soon her ears registered a steady clacking noise, and the grey began to brighten, revealing the lines of her veins. She managed to force her eyelids open, and bright light hit her eyes. Her mouth opened and let out an involuntary groan.
"Shut up!" a harsh voice barked at her, and Leigh winced.
She struggled to a sitting position, and rubbed her eyes, trying to get them accustomed to the light. She soon found out that it was only bright in comparison to the black she had been swimming in before. Leigh twisted her head around. She was in a rectangular room, filled with boxes and small moving slits of light. There was no sign of the person who had spoken to her. Pressing her palms against the gritty floor, Leigh tried to stand, but with the movement came a sudden wave of nausea and she plopped back down.
With it came a quick succession of images: the toothy grin of the man right before he shot Dan, Dan's skull coming apart, bits of blood and brain flying everywhere; images she hadn't even known she'd seen: the other man, the driver, pulling a knife from his waistband, coils of Cory's intestines, grass stained red. Leigh shuddered and couldn't stop a sob from escaping her lips.
Then there was a blade at her throat, and a voice from above said, "Shut your mouth you little tramp before I cut out your cords."
Leigh stopped up her throat and tried to place the voice. It was hard; her head ached and something wet and sticky kept dripping into her left eye. But she focused, and then it hit her, like a ton of bricks, like the club: he was the one who had killed Dan.
Thousands of questions swirled through Leigh's mind in a thick sludge of thought: Why hadn't he killed her? Where was she? Why did he bother bringing her here? What was he going to do with her? Why had they killed Dan and Cory? Where was the other man, the driver?
Gathering all her strength, and all her courage, Leigh asked the man, "What do you want with me?" Her voice came out weak and shaky, and Leigh knew immediately her act hadn't been courageous, only foolish.
He answered her with a bark sound, coming from deep in his throat, which Leigh took to be a laugh. "'Cause I have plans for you sweetheart. Big plans."
Leigh didn't ask him what the plans were, but the man went on:
"I'm going to hurt you," the tone of his voice was light, even merry, "I'm going to take a blade as long as your thigh and as thin as your pinky finger and slide it through your belly button. I'm going to slit your throat, and drink your blood right out of your veins. And as you die, as I'm taking you into me, you're going to take me into you. Too bad you won't feel it."
By now Leigh felt as though she had ice water running through her veins, and she shivered, and curled up into a fetal position. The man spoke no more. She lay like that for what seemed to her like an eternity, but could only have been a few hours, before the train slowed and stopped. Sitting up, she watched as the shadow that was the man cross the car and slide open the door.
The light from outside hit her, burning her eyes. Leigh forced herself to look at him, to try to see more of his features. But all she could see was his silhouette, outlined by the outside light.
"You stay here. I've got to do something for a bit," He turned and jumped down. The door slid shut with a scraping sound and a slam. On impact a chill ran down Leigh's back.
She struggled to her feet, using the cold metal wall to support herself. Her legs were numb and watery and she had to wait for them to become useable again before making her way to the door.
Using her right hand to brace herself against the wall Leigh placed her foot on the handle and pushed as hard as she could. The door didn't budge. She kept pushing, but it was futile; the door wasn't going to open for her. Tears of frustration and anger filled her eyes but she wiped them away quickly, and searched the room, looking for another way.
Nothing, there was nothing. Leigh screamed and stalked over to a pile of boxes. She tore at them, ripping them and tossing them about the box. All her energy gone she dropped to the ground, exhausted, and that's when she saw it.
Twenty odd slivers of light, close together, in a row. A grate. Leigh crawled over to it and fit her fingers into the slats and tugged. It gave a bit, and she pulled harder. It flew off, throwing her backwards. But she didn't care. There was a small window, just big enough for her to fit through, to outside. To freedom.
Leigh shimmied through it, landing lightly on the gravel beneath her. The train whistle blew and Leigh heard the door to the car open. She took off into the woods, running as fast as she could, without even thinking.
Praising both her cross-country and camping experiences, Leigh managed to run parallel with the train tracks, in the opposite direction of the way it was going. She hoped that would bring her to some sort of road.
Luck was with her. After about 20 minutes of running, and Leigh estimated around 3 miles, she reached a dirt road running perpendicular with the train tracks. She stood at it, glancing right and left, not knowing which way to go. Looking closely, she could see what looked like a hill coming out of the forest, with a house sitting on top of it.
She began to run, but only made a few feet before she had to stumble to a halt. Her head throbbed, and she was dizzy and nauseous. There was no way she could keep running. She would have to walk.
While she had been running through the woods she hadn't bothered to wipe the blood out of her eye, and it had caught up. The blood was gummed up around her eye, effectively gluing it shut. As Leigh walked towards the house, thanking some God for the cool, cloudy weather, she picked at it, trying to peel it off.
By the time she reached the beginning of the driveway that she knew must lead to the house on the hill, Leigh had managed to pick most of the blood off of her eye, allowing her to open it, at least partially. She would have to ask for some water when she reached the house.
The driveway was the same dirt as the road, and it rose at a slight angle, twisting and turning. Leigh followed it until she reached an open circle. At the far side of the circle was the house.
From far away the house had just seemed like, well, a house. But now that Leigh was up close to it she saw that it was huge and imposing. It was three stories, plus an attic and two round towers, and all the windows were barred. The shingles were a drab grey and the house was painted black, or what used to be black. It had faded into a dark grayish greenish color.
Leigh approached the front door. It was made of solid mahogany, and there was no doorbell, only a heavy iron knocker in the shape of a gargoyle. Reaching out tentative fingers Leigh grasped it and slammed it against the door one, two, three times. She stood there, waiting, for a little over five minutes before she decided no one was coming. She turned to leave, but as soon as her back was to the door she heard a creaking noise.
Turning back Leigh saw that the door had swung open a smidgen. No light shown through the seam of air between the wall and the door. Leigh took a step towards the door and peered at the lock on the edge of the door. It was made of what looked like iron. Taking the edge in her fingers she tested the weight of it. It was heavy, durable; there was no way a gust of air could've forced it open.
Drawing a deep breath into her lungs Leigh slid through the opening. The inside was dark, and it took her a few seconds for her eyes to become adjusted. When they did she found herself standing in a dusty foyer. On her right there was a round ornate mirror, and Leigh peeked into it.
She saw a ghost, and yelped, throwing herself backwards. Looking closer she saw it was no ghost; she was looking at own reflection. She was dirty and bloody, and the sweat from running had made everything smear together. Her hair was tangled with twigs and leaves, and on the left side was a gaping wound. Leigh reached up and poked it gently, wincing in pain. She was a mess.
"I should find a bathroom," she whispered to herself, just for the sake of hearing someone speak.
The foyer opened into a wide hallway. As she walked down it, Leigh had the strangest feeling, like something was wrong. She kept going, puzzling over what it could be. Then it hit her. There were no doors. The walls, other than the decorations, were smooth, unbroken. And what decorations there were. So she kept going, until she reached the end of the hall. There were two doors, one in front of her and one to her right.

Leigh opened the one on her right first, and it opened onto a dusty spiral staircase. She closed the door, and tried the other one. Turning the knob she tugged on it, but it only moved slightly. She lowered her head till her eyes were level with the lock and peered into the crack between the door and the wall. Light shone through except for a dark patch: the door was locked.
"Damn it!" Leigh cursed. "Now I'm going to have to searching this house for a key. Well forget it; I'm just going to go back out front."
She went back the way she had come, this time not paying any attention to the hangings on the wall. All the way she muttered to herself, trying to keep the silence from drowning her. When she reached the foyer her fingers reached out and grasped the handle. She jerked it open, looked out, and slammed it shut.
Outside, on the other side of the circle, was the man. He had just been standing there, staring up at the house. Leigh slid the bolt lock shut, locking it, and raced back to the other end of the house. Her head pounded and her breath seemed stuck in her throat. She launched herself at the other door, but it wouldn't open.
Her only other option was up the stairs, but that would trap her in the house.
The front door rattled.
Leigh flung the other door open, and it shut hard behind her, as she climbed the stairs. They were made of metal, and clanged with every step. She prayed that he couldn't hear her. The stairs ended abruptly with another door. This one was rounded on top, and covered in metal. Leigh threw herself into it, and surprisingly, it opened without much difficulty.

The room she entered was huge, and must've spanned the entire house. There was nothing in it; it was empty. There were a few windows on her left, and when she heard a door slam downstairs, Leigh knew she had one choice. She opened one, and looked out. There was a piece of roof underneath it, and she slid out, landing with a crash onto the shingles.
She lost her balance, and slid down the roof, the rough shingles bruising the backs of her thighs and her buttocks. Leigh winced, but didn't cry out. She was too worried about the fall that she could see coming up. Turning, she clawed at the roof that was speedily about to disappear, but only succeeded in ripping up her fingernails. She flew off the roof, and sailed through the air for what seemed like forever.
As soon as she began to fall the ground came up exceedingly fast. Leigh landed in a pile of leaves, luckily, only bruising her back and hips. She lay there, her breathing fast and heavy, and tears of pain leaking out of her eyes. She was there for awhile, unable to move, shudders moving up and down through her body.
But she knew she had to keep going, before he realized she wasn't upstairs. Before he realized she was gone. Leigh pressed her palms against the ground, and managed to clamber to her feet. Her legs were shaky, and the blood pulsed through her head painfully. She could feel it spill onto her forehead and cheek and run down her neck. The heat of it made her nauseous, but she had to keep going.
She hobbled around the back of the house, which was a messy tangle of overgrown bushes and undergrowth. Leigh had to fight for every step she took, ripping up her skin on thorns and sharp branches. Her fingernails leaked blood all over her hands and it smeared on everything she touched, but Leigh didn't care.
She finally came out into a clearing, a campsite of some sort. Around the edge were large stones, shaped like, Leigh realized with a fair amount of shock, chairs. There were three stone chairs, and what looked like a couch and two tables. Leigh wobbled her way to one of the chairs, and sank down into it. For a chair made of stone, it was surprisingly comfortable.
In the midst of everything she'd been through, Leigh felt a hint of amusement bubble up in her, and come out of her mouth in the form of a small twitching grin. It grew into a giggle, and then a deep down belly laugh.
She sat there, laughing, until she threw her head back and nicked it on the stone behind her. It sent a shock of pain through her system, and she winced, and turned, lying on the chair. She put her feet over the one side and let her head hang over the other, and massaged the new bruise with the heel of her hand.
It was in that position, looking up, that Leigh saw the house. Well, it wasn't really a house, it a tree house, up high, spanning a good five or six trees. She stared at it in amazement, her mouth slightly open.
Leigh scanned the strange sight, searching for a way up into the aerial abode. It took her longer than she had expected to spot the green twine rope ladder that was a little more than twenty yards away from her. She slid her legs over the side and they hit the leaf-blanketed ground with a slight thump.
After a slight bit of hesitation Leigh hobbled over to it, slowly to keep herself from becoming lightheaded. She stood underneath it, craning her neck to see up. Her fingers curled around it and tugged down, testing the ladders' durability. It seemed sturdy enough, so Leigh placed her foot on the first rung and began to climb.
The going was slow; the ladder wasn't attached to the ground, and it swung around as Leigh climbed up it. She finally reached her destination, and wrapped her fingers over the edge of the wooden platform. Leigh hauled herself up, throwing her body onto the floor. She lay like that, panting until she had the strength to drag herself to her feet.
Leigh pivoted slowly until she was facing the main room of the tree house. It was round, and stained a dark brown. The roof was composed of green stained boards, decorated with fallen leaves. Leigh started to walk around it, to look for a door, but then paused and turned back. She knelt at the opening, grasped the rope in her hands, and pulled on it till the entire ladder was coiled on the floor next to her.
Standing, she resumed the task of finding the door. It was a third of the way around and set around five inches into the wall. Leigh stretched her hand out against it, and pushed with her back muscles. It creaked open, and Leigh squinted into the darkness. She waited until she could see the outlines of the furniture inside the room before she looked around.
The furniture was all wicker, light colored, and there was no one in the room, but there was another door. Leigh opened it, and before her was a covered hall, stretching forwards. She placed her foot on it and pressed down, testing its strength. It didn't move, so Leigh set her whole weight on it. As she moved cautiously down the passage, the wood creaked and sank a bit, but didn't give.
At the end there was another door, different from the entrance. This one, unexposed to the elements, was made of smooth bamboo bound together by leather cords. Leigh raised her fist and rapped lightly. At her touch the door swung inwards. This room was also round, but well lit. Leigh entered, and closed the door behind her.
The light in the room was a soft gold, and came from four oil lamps on the wall, and three sweet-smelling candles that sat on the table in the middle of the room. The table itself was strange. It was made in the form of three circles, molded together, and was low to the ground. There were no chairs, only pillows arranged on the ground. Leigh stared at them hungrily; they were plump and shimmery, with small beaded tassels. The sight of them made Leigh suddenly acutely aware of her lethargy; her eyelids drooped and her muscles sagged, heavy.
Leigh took a step forward and turned slightly, leaning against the counter that circled the room. From her new vantage point she could see that there was yet another door, right next to the one she had entered in. This one was built like the first one, sturdy, as though it had to deal with the weather. Leigh suspected that it led outside.
Then the hinges groaned lowly and the door began to open. Leigh felt a gasp rise up in her throat, but she caught it, and only a tiny breath of air escaped. She swiveled and lunged for the other door, but the voice that spoke to her stopped her.
"Wait, I'm not going to hurt you," the voice was female, clear as a clarion and light as a feather. Leigh froze.
"Please," the voice said softly.
Turning, Leigh saw who the speaker was. She was short, no more than five feet and of Asian heritage. Her eyes were curved almond shaped, her hair was so black it was almost blue, and fell in silky strands almost to her waist. Her chin and cheekbones were high and her nose tilted slightly upwards. Freckles were sprinkled over her cheeks and nose.
She was dressed in jeans and button up flannel shirt, and when she saw Leigh she gasped and dropped the spoon she was holding. Her lower lip dropped slightly and her eyes grew big.
"What happened to you?" she asked as she rushed over to Leigh. Her fingers reached out to brush Leigh's bruised cheek, causing Leigh to recoil in pain. "I'm sorry."
They stood there for a couple seconds, with an uncomfortable silence building up. Finally the woman turned away, towards a shelf with dinnerware on it. From it she took two plates, two mugs, and two forks. These she arranged on the table.
"Sit," she motioned at one side of the table. "Dinner will be ready in a minute. Are you hungry?"

Leigh nodded slightly, and the woman waited for her to sit. When she didn't, the woman slid back outside. Once she was gone Leigh sidled over to the pillows and sat down, her muscles tense. Her stomach growled, suddenly aching for food.
The woman came back in, a small grin on her face at the sight of Leigh sitting at the table, and placed two large bowls on the surface. Leigh waited for her to leave before glancing inside each of them. One held leafy greens, covered in a sweet scented dressing. The other was full of roasted potatoes, peppers, and onions. Leigh held her head over it, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The aroma of it made her lightheaded, giddy, and she let out a soft sigh.
"So you are hungry," there was a touch of amusement in the woman's voice, and Leigh sat up, alarmed.
The woman set down the platter she was carrying with a clacking sound and settled on the pillows across from Leigh. She took the serving fork off the dish and stabbed a large chunk of blackened meat. Leigh watched as she shook it off over her plate, and then supplied her with potatoes and vegetables.
As soon as she was finished being served, Leigh began to eat, slowly at first, but then ravenously. The woman watched her, picking at her food, amused, until Leigh had cleaned her first, and then second plate.
When she had finished the woman stood and took the plates, placing them on the counter. She rummaged through a cabinet until she found a box, took two bowls and two spoons off the shelf, and brought it all back to the table. The lid came off of the box easily, revealing a rich chocolate vanilla swirl pudding pie.
As she sliced into it she spoke, "Well, now that you've sat at my table and eaten my food, I think you could at least tell me your name."
"I'm Leigh," Leigh's voice was barely a breath of air, but the woman pretended not to notice.
"Well, Leigh," the woman set a piece of pie in front of her, "My name is Skye. I suppose you've been wondering why I live in the trees?"
"Actually, not really," Leigh responded quickly. Skye picked it up and cocked her head quizzically.
"Why?"
Leigh felt a lump form in her throat, but it dissolved when she saw the compassion in Skye's eyes. "There's this man-"
She was interrupted by a deafening clap of thunder, and the sudden sound of rain beating a tattoo on the roof. Leigh shivered; the thought of rain made her cold.
"It's just rain, sweetie," Skye paused for a moment, "Tell me about the man. Is his name Jacob?"
"I-I don't know," Leigh's voice grew with strength as she got used to Skye, "He never told me his name. H-He killed my b-brother."
At the thought of Dan, and Cory, Leigh felt her chin quiver and her throat catch and tears spilled down her cheek. She placed her spoon on the table and buried her face in her palms. Skye waited for her to stop crying before continuing.
"That certainly sounds like Jacob," Skye mused. "Was he with another man?"
Leigh nodded, and Skye knit her eyebrows together in thought. "That would've been Ben."
Sniffing, Leigh said, "He wasn't there, in the train."
"What train?"
"After the accident-"
"Accident?" Skye was puzzled again. "Why don't you just start at the beginning."
So Leigh related her story, from the car to the bullet to the train, and then the road and the empty house. When she reached that part Skye stopped her.
"I suppose you don't know who lives in that house," the look on her face was almost amused.
"I went inside; it didn't look as if anyone lived there. It was dusty, and there weren't any rooms."
Skye chuckled. "No rooms? You must not have been looking hard enough. There are plenty of rooms in that old place," she shrugged, "Just need to know where to look."
"Oh," Leigh bit her lip, "Where do you look?"
"On the third floor, where you jumped out the window. If you had looked around the room more closely, you would've found trap doors all over it. They lead down to the rooms."
Leigh didn't respond, and they sat there, the rain on the roof the only sound, for a long while. Finally Skye stood and looked down on Leigh:
"That wound on your head could use some antiseptic, and bandages. Come with me; we'll get them, and go somewhere where you can rest."
She pulled a large umbrella off the wall and motioned for Leigh to follow her outside. They walked sedately through the pouring rain around two curves and one straightway that led them to the biggest round room there was.
In it was a large pile of blankets and pillows and again Leigh grew tired at the sight of it. Skye pointed to it, nodding, and Leigh sank down gratefully, relaxing into the blissful softness. Skye disappeared.
She came back with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, bandages, and a brown jug. She dipped the washcloth in the bowl, raised it, but then put it back. She stood, offered Leigh her hand, helping her to her feet.
"You need a bath, sweetie," She took Leigh by the shoulders and led her to the bathroom.
The only thing inside of it was a large tub, with an open pipe above it. Skye plugged the whole in the middle of the tub, and then pulled on a chain on the wall. There was a loud gurgle, and steaming water began to drip into the tub. Leigh was reminded forcefully of a coffee pot, only this liquid was grayish.
"It's filtered and heated rainwater," Skye explained. She chose a bottle of blue liquid off the floor and poured it into the water. It bubbled and foamed as the tub filled. Skye placed a washcloth on the edge and a towel on the floor, and then left Leigh, closing the door behind her.

Leigh peeled off her soiled and ripped clothes, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the floor. She gripped the edge of the tub and placed one foot into it, and then the other.
She carefully lowered herself into the water until she was submerged up to her neck. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she allowed the scalding water to strip the grime and blood off her body. It unknotted her tired muscles and massaged her worn joints. Slowly she slid down into the water and then came back up again, her hair soaked. Leigh ran her fingers through it, working out the kinks and knots. When she was satisfied, she plucked the washcloth off the side and scrubbed her skin, rubbing it until it was a fresh pink.
Her face was last, and she did that delicately, careful not to touch her head wound. Every time the washcloth passed over a bruise she winced but didn't make any noise. She didn't want Skye to hear her.
When she was finished Leigh climbed out and wrapped the towel around her body. It was fluffy and soft, and Leigh smiled gently. She glanced down at her dirty clothing, and scrunched her nose. There was no way she was going to put that back on.
She padded into the room, to find that Skye wasn't there. However, there were clothes laid out on the blankets: a pair of dark jeans, a soft cotton tee, a stretchy undershirt, and panties. Leigh dressed slowly, and had just pulled the shirt over her head when Skye came back in.
She sat Leigh down, then cleaned and bandaged her injury. While she was doing it Leigh mustered the courage to ask her the questions that had been building ever since the conversation over dinner:
"Skye," she began, biting her lip, "How do you know so much about the house? And about, Jacob?" The name tasted bitter on her tongue.
Skye leaned back, and turned her eyes away from Leigh, "I used to live at that house. With Jacob.
"You see, I used to date Ben," blood spread across Skye's neck and ears, "He ran a ring of assassins. We were called the Chupacabras."
At the sound of the nominative case Leigh's head snapped up, and Skye gave her a watery smile:
"Yes, I used to be an assassin. I used to be a Chupacabra," at the last phrase Skye's tone grew wistful, with a slight hint of resentment. "I was one of the best. There was no job I couldn't do. But we disbanded, after Jacob's girlfriend, Isabella, was killed during a run."
"How?" Leigh asked, suddenly eager to know more about the life of her savior.
"I wasn't feeling well, or that was my excuse. By that time I was sick of the life. Anyway, Isabella jumped at the chance. She begged Jacob to let her go with them; she told him she was ready.
"He had been training her; in between their rounds of fucking, of course," Skye snorted at the memory, "And he doted on her. So that night, Jacob allowed her to go. She wasn't ready, of course, and the target that night, the daughter of some mob boss, wasn't alone. Her boyfriend was there, and after Isabella killed the girl he killed Isabella. We split up, and I was the only one who stayed here, watching the house. Out of the original six: Jacob, Ben, Crystal, Adrian, Dorian, and I, Jacob, Ben, and I are the only three left. Jacob went to New York, and Ben went to the mountains in the south somewhere. I wonder why they came back."
Skye turned her eyes to Leigh, and stared, until understanding dawned in her eyes, "Oh!" she said softly. Leigh lowered one eyebrow quizzically, and asked her what was wrong.
"Now that I think about it, you look a lot like Isabella. She had the same hair as you do: dark and curly and long. And your face is the same shape, with the same look to it. Other than your eyes, you two could've been sisters," Skye paused, amazed, "She had the most startling blue-violet eyes, while yours are grayish-green. How did Jacob know."
She trailed off, and turned away, her downcast eyes hiding the tears that the painful memories had dredged up. Leigh opened her mouth to comfort her, but Skye threw her head up and pressed her finger over Leigh's mouth. Skye turned toward Leigh, fear bright in her wet eyes.
"We weren't careful enough," she whispered.
It was only in the hush that followed that Leigh heard what Skye's trained ears had been able to pick up through her sorrow. It was a very small rasping sound, coming from behind them. Leigh didn't want to turn; she knew who was standing behind them, who had been standing behind them the entire time, listening to their conversation. Her fingers began to quiver, and it spread up her arms until her whole body was a shaky mess.
She prayed that Jacob would be moved by Skye's story, by her sadness. She watched Skye stand and turn to face him in the corner of her eye, but no one said anything. Skye brushed her shoulder lightly, and Leigh looked at her. Skye motioned for her to stand with her.
Leigh did as she was told, and positioned herself a little behind Skye, facing Jacob. He stared hard at Skye, daring her to speak, and during the showdown, Leigh studied him.
He wasn't as young as she had first thought him to be, and Leigh had to admit, not bad-looking. But his face was set in stone, and she knew there would be no mercy.
"What a touching story, Skye."
Skye lifted her chin and straightened her back, keeping her eyes locked on his. She would not be cowed by Jacob.
"Why are you here?" she questioned, her voice steady.
"I just want the girl," he answered, almost gently.
"No, Jacob," Skye said sternly, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling and then back down again, "You can't have her."
Leigh marveled at Skye's bravery, but Jacob only grinned maniacally.
"That's where you're wrong, dearie," he snarled, but didn't move.
"Why, Jacob, why did you come back?" Skye sounded slightly desperate.
"I suppose I just got nostalgic for the old place," Jacob paused, "So I called up Ben and we came back. It was only luck that had us practice on her brothers.
"I would have killed her, too, but she looked at me like Isabella did the last time she ever did. A glance that was fearful, questioning, and wanting, all at the same time," his voice choked, but he took a deep breath, clearing out his lungs.
"Just give her to me."
"No!"
"Fine," Jacob threw up his hands, "I didn't want to have to do it this way, but Skye, you're forcing me to."
He launched himself over the bed and would have had Skye by the throat if she hadn't thrown herself into Leigh, knocking them both out of the way. She pushed Leigh up and towards the door.
"Run! Go!" she shouted, and Leigh didn't have to be told twice. She bolted for the door, running as fast as she could go. Once outside she turned and looked back.
Jacob was standing over Skye, a knife in his hand. It was long, curved, and lethal, and as Leigh watched he brought it down fast and hard, slicing Skye open from her belly button to her collarbone. Ribbons of blood spilled out, over her cut shirt and out onto the wooden floor. The puddle spread into the bed, soaking into the white blankets and pillows, dying them crimson.
Jacob pivoted slowly, toward Leigh, the smirk on his face sadistic. He opened his blood stained coat, and slid the knife into its leather case on his waist-band. Leigh turned and ran.
She had only gotten around fifty feet before he caught up to her. She heard his footsteps pounding on the wooden planks, and then they were gone. His arms wrapped around her and the full force of his flying weight hit her, knocking her off her feet. Opening her mouth, Leigh let out the loudest scream she could; through the echoing in her head, she could hear herself. The sound was inhuman, and had a banshee-quality: unearthly and resonating.
The sound must have shocked Jacob, because his grip on her waist loosened, and he fell back a bit. But he recovered quickly, and tightened again. She fought him, kicking and punching and biting. He managed to haul himself to his feet, and pressed one boot down on Leigh's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She choked, coughing, and fell back.
Jacob reached down and grabbed her, heaving her over his shoulder. She screeched, over and over again, beating her tiny fists against the small of his back. But he didn't pay any attention to her.
He carried her through the passages, to the tree he had used to climb into Skye's domain. Before he started down he threw her up higher, and ran one finger up her inner thigh as he spoke:
"Now you're gonna stop kicking, and screaming like a little baby while I climb down this," By now Jacob's finger had reached the top of her leg and he paused in his movement. "Understand?"
Leigh nodded against his back, but he either hadn't understood or hadn't noticed. He forced his hand up hard into her and she cried out, "Yes! Yeeeeeaaaess!!"
The pain in her voice made Jacob chuckle lightly, and he let his hand linger there for a moment before removing it and beginning the climb down. Leigh co-operated, her still damp curls swinging rhythmically, until they were halfway down. Her stomach roiled, and she was attacked by a wave of nausea.
"Jacob," she whispered.
He halted at the sound of his name coming from her lips, and asked in a small voice, "What?"
"I'm going to throw up."

Jacob let out an exasperated sigh, but he let Leigh down, placing her lightly on a branch that was perpendicular to his chest. She clambered to her knees and spun around just in time to puke into the air instead of on Jacob.
She felt his hands on her neck, and she shuddered, but he wasn't hurting her. His long calloused fingers were lightly gathering her ringlets into the palm of one of his hands. When she was finished she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then wiped that on the branch.
"Come on," he said, releasing her hair and starting to climb. Leigh almost laughed when she realized he was letting her climb herself.
She thought about going back up the tree, but that was just a dead end, and anyway, he was most likely a much faster climber. He'd overtake her before she reached ten feet. Leigh followed him down.
He reached the ground, and watched her finish. The last branch was high off the ground, and Leigh peered down apprehensively. Jacob saw her trepidation, and rolling his eyes, reached his arms out to her. She stared at him blankly; the idea of falling into Jacob's arms was just as terrifying as dropping the seven or so feet to the ground.
"Don't," he warned, and the menace in her voice told her the punishment for not trusting him, or at least pretending to, would be more painful than hitting the ground. Leigh closed her eyes and slid down.
Jacob's wiry arms wrapped around her legs and deposited her unceremoniously on the ground. She landed hard on her bottom, wincing. Jacob squatted beside her, and ran one finger through her hair.
"Now, can I trust you to walk by yourself, or do I have to tie you up and throw you over my shoulder again?"
"I can walk."
"Fine," he opened his coat, "But just to make sure you don't decide to, wander, we're going to become joined at the hip."
Jacob undid his belt, pulled it out of his pants with a quick snap of his wrist, and folded it in half. He slid the folded end through one of Leigh's belt looks, and then pushed the two loose ends through it, pulling it tight. The ends he slid through his belt loop, and then buckled again.

Leigh watched, chagrined, hating his every particle. He began to walk, tugging on the leather and jerking Leigh forwards. She stumbled, and let out a yelp, pulling a smile out of him. Mustering up the nastiest thoughts she could, Leigh proceeded to curse Jacob out:
"You are a fucking bastard. Do you know that? A bastard. You are the lowest, dirtiest of the scum, and you don't even deserve to die. You deserve to be strung up by your skin by tiny hooks, pulling in every direction. Then they'd skin your balls and staple it over your mouth and nose, with only two little holes so you'd have to breathe through your own blood. You would-"
Jacob interrupted her with a loud snigger, and without turning, pronounced, "Don't make me so horny out here; I hate fucking on bare ground. I always end up with splinters and burrs stuck in my ass."
Stopping short, Leigh made Jacob swing around, and she spat in his eye. He calmly reached up and wiped his face, throwing the spit on the ground with a flick of his wrist. Without missing a beat he reared his arm back and back-handed her face.
She stumbled, but caught herself. Jacob started to walk again, and she followed, this time quietly. They went like this till they reached a familiar thicket, full of brambles. Jacob went around them easily, by way of a small well-hidden path. It opened out onto the back of the house, and Jacob went to the backdoor, opening it effortlessly.
Leigh halted, and opened her mouth, stuttering what sounded like the beginning of the word, "but." He rotated, and grinned at her:
"What? You think I got rid of my key?"
Once inside the house, Jacob removed the belt, and motioned for Leigh to go up the stairs. She did, wondering whether jumping out of the window was an option. She decided against it; another fall like that would kill her, or worse, cripple her. She'd rather die than have to face Jacob's wrath.
They reached the empty room that Leigh only barely remembered. It was still bare, the dusk sun streaming in through the west windows. It sparkled on the dust in an infinitely sad way, and Leigh felt that if Jacob wasn't standing right behind her, waiting for her to break, she could've broken down and cried. He prodded her in the back, and she lurched forward.
"Where am I supposed to go?" she cried out.
Jacob threw back his head and laughed. When he had quieted down enough to speak, tears were streaming down his face and he was hiccupping. "So I guess you really didn't waste any time before jumping out of that window.
"There are doors, in the floor, that lead to the second level. Come on," Jacob shoved her to the right, and that's when Leigh saw it.
It was a trap door, dusty, set into the grain of the wood, and two parallel edges were lighter than the stain on the other boards. Jacob grasped one of these sides, and pulled upwards. It opened reluctantly with a groan, and Jacob had to lean against it to force it up and over. It landed with a crash, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. Leigh coughed, and Jacob rolled his eyes.
"Go," he said, pointing down the stairs that had been exposed.
Leigh obeyed, following his lead down the staircase. They led to the kitchen, and what Leigh had suspected to be filthy turned out to be a spotless example of linoleum perfection. Again, Leigh stared without abandon, and Jacob came up behind her:
"Ben's been here, cleaning, I suppose," he shrugged. "I wonder if he got groceries."
Jacob went to the refrigerator, opening it, and peering inside. He rummaged, and stood holding bread, lunchmeat, and a jar of mayonnaise. "I am starving," he murmured as he spread open two pieces of bread and slathered them with mayo. In the middle he slapped chunks of turkey and ham.
He ate it messily, leaning against the counter. Leigh ignored him, and wondered if she could get away with going into the next room. If she had to be around him much longer, she thought she might lose her mind. She edged towards the door, her back against the wall, and was almost there when Jacob saw her.
"Hey," he said through a full mouth, "Clean that up."
"No."
Jacob stopped chewing and narrowed his eyes at her. Leigh froze. She had forgotten how depthless his eyes could become when he wanted them to. Goosebumps popped up on her arms and legs and she quivered slightly. Without another word she cleaned up his mess, putting away the food and placing the knife in the sink.
"Good girl," he said silkily. He poked the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, and then came up behind her. She could hear his boots clomping slowly against the linoleum, and she hated the sound; she hated him.
He put one arm around her waist, and his face in her neck. She tried to pull away, but at her movement his free hand was at her throat, and he whispered, "Don't move."
They stood still like that, until Jacob released her throat. He swiveled her around, towards the door and walked through it, still holding onto Leigh. At first Leigh thought the room they entered was the living room, but then she noticed all the instruments.
There was a beautiful grand piano in one corner, and in the other a standing harp. Guitars and violins were displayed on stands on one side of the room, and all sorts of woodwinds and brasses. Leigh gazed, amazed, at what she knew was a Stradivarius to her left.
Jacob let go of her, but she must have been obvious about her staring because he took the violin off the wall. "Can you play?" he asked without taking his eyes off the instrument.
"Yeah," Leigh mumbled, praying that he wouldn't make her play. I should've said no, she thought to herself.
Her fears came true as Jacob wordlessly handed her the violin. She held it, dumbfounded, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of playing
"There's no bow."
Jacob snorted, and opened a cabinet that was set in the wall, "Take your pick."
Leigh peeked into it, and was disappointed to see an array of different sized bows. They ranged from quarter to whole sizes, and were made out of all different colors and types of wood and horse hair. On a small shelf were rows of resin cubes. Leigh chose a half size bow made of deep rich red wood and musky smelling linen colored horse hair. She took a bar of resin and rubbed it with the grain of the strands. It made a slight squeaking sound that was refreshingly familiar to her.
When she had gotten it to an appropriate level of tackiness Leigh turned her attention to the actual violin. She set it lightly on her collarbone, pressing down lightly with her chin. Her slim fingers found middle C and she pulled the bow over it. It echoed lightly, in tune, the most resonating striking sound she had ever heard.
She played the C major scale easily, up and down and then back up again. She didn't notice Jacob watching her, or when Ben came in the room, and would've interrupted if Jacob hadn't quieted him. The only thought on her mind was the sonorous notes that she was producing.
Pausing, Leigh tried to decide what she wanted to play first. She settled on a piece she had played with her school band, "Christmas at Sarajevo." It started slow, and she closed her eyes, letting her instincts guide her fingers. The song came out beautifully on the perfectly tuned violin, and it was only when she had finished the song did she realized that.
With that came the consciousness of Jacob. He had moved across the room and was sitting on the piano bench, staring at the keys. Leigh replaced the violin, suddenly aware of where she was, and who she was with. Ben was standing at the door, picking at his nails with a pocket knife and flicking the dirt onto the floor. Leigh watched, disgusted, until Jacob caught onto what she was looking at.
"Ben," he said sharply, and Ben paused in his action, tilting his head upward to look at Jacob. "Stop that."
Ben shrugged but discontinued. He sucked at his teeth with his tongue, and pointed at Leigh. "She's pretty. You gonna put her in the basement?"

"No," Jacob replied quietly. "She'll go to Isabella's room."
Ben was unable to silence the snigger that came out his mouth. As soon as it came out, though, a look of complete repentance came over him, but Jacob didn't see that. He was up and had Ben by the throat before Leigh had time to react.
"Don't you ever laugh at me," the tone of Jacob's voice was deadly.
"I-I'm sor-r-ry," Ben stuttered.
Jacob released him, and without turning stated, "It's late, and we've all had a long, trying day." At that he twisted his head slightly to look at Leigh. The glance in his eyes was not wasted on her: she knew there would be no way out of this house, at least not that night.
Taking Leigh roughly by the arm Jacob led her through the next room, the living room, and down a set of short stairs that turned to the left. After this was a hallway and he led her down to the very end.
Jacob placed his hand on the knob on the door there, and paused. Leigh watched him, puzzled, as he shuddered. But he overcame whatever internal struggle he was going through and opened the door.
The room was large, larger than Leigh's parents' room back home, but Leigh didn't care. She had been overcome by a wave of desolation that brought with it great exhaustion. Her shoulders slumped, and her feet shuffled against the thick carpet. Jacob noticed, and seated her on the bed. Leigh thought he would leave, locking her in, but instead he directed himself to a huge armoire on the other side of the canopied bed.
He swung the doors open and pawed through the clothes. When he found what he was looking for, Jacob shut the doors and went back to Leigh. Jacob silently handed her an elaborate nightgown. It was black, and consisted of two pieces of cloth. The first was the tight fitting bodice that turned into a flowing skirt that came only a bit past her derriere. The second was a robe, which was embroidered with the same absinthe colored thread as the bodice was.
"This was Isabella's favorite. Put it on."
Leigh stared at the concoction, thunderstruck. She hadn't worn a nightgown to bed since she was a little girl, and then only cotton ones with three quarters sleeves that reached her ankles. Now the only thing she would wear to sleep in was a tank top, and fuzzy pants.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes," there was no room for debate in Jacob's voice.
"Fine. Leave." Leigh waved her hand at the door in a sudden show of female control.
Jacob eyed her, but then laughed. "Alright."
He left, closing the door behind him, and Leigh let out a little chortle when she realized she had told him what to do and he had listened. She shrugged, comprehending that he wasn't relinquishing authority, but showing how dominant over her he was.
Leigh stripped off the comfortable clothes Skye had given her, and then attempted to put on the bodice. It fit tightly around the middle, but her hips and breasts were too small. She tied the laces as tight as they would go, but the bone strips wouldn't let the fabric stretch, and she was stuck with the loose fabric. The robe felt cool on her shoulders, and she closed it over her, to cover the see-through outfit she was wearing.
She tip-toed to the door and pressed her ear against it, but heard nothing. Her fingers went to the handle and gently applied pressure. Locked. Leigh turned and went the bed. It was huge, king-sized, and covered in throws, shams, and pillows that all matched the scarlet and sable canopy. She pushed back the covers and slid under them. As soon as her head touched the soft chenille pillows her eyelids shut, and she fell asleep.

Leigh woke to darkness, and softness, and was afraid. She had no idea where she was. Then it hit her, like it had before, with a throb of pain, the flash of memories of the previous day. Suddenly she was sick again, and she searched frantically with her eyes for somewhere she could go. There, a door hidden by the armoire.
She threw herself out of bed and across the room, kicking the door open. Luck was with her. It was a bathroom, and she threw up. She sat on the cool tiles for a long time, then got up and went to the sink. Leigh splashed her face and wrist with cold water, and then gurgled with it until she could no longer taste foul bile.
When she was through she went back into the main room, and without thinking, tried to leave. Her hand went for the knob, but stopped inches from it when her brain caught up and told it that the door was locked. However, her hand didn't care and it resumed its path to the handle. Surprisingly, the knob turned down, and clicked, and the door swung open.
Leigh shivered, wondering who could've unlocked the door. She couldn't imagine tyrannical Jacob allowing her such a huge window of opportunity, if not for freedom, for investigation. The lure of liberty was great though, and Leigh didn't waste any time standing in the doorway.

She turned to the door next to her, and opened it. Just as she had thought: stairs. Leigh skulked down them, keeping her steps as light as possible to avoid noise. It was only when she had reached the bottom, and they opened out, did she realize a light was on. She gasped and turned, but a voice called out:
"Stop."
Leigh froze. The voice hadn't belonged to Jacob; it was Ben. Although he wasn't the alpha in the house, she knew of his "talents." Thoughts of Cory flashed through her head, and she swallowed hard. A sudden urge rose up in her, an urge to face her brother's killer.
Her feet brought her into the light. Ben was standing by the wall, polishing a knife. When he turned he nearly dropped it at the sight of her.
"I thought you were Jacob," before she could respond he continued, "You're a nice surprise."
"Can I ask you something?" she said before he could speak again.
"Sure."
Leigh studied his face as she spoke, "Why did you kill my brothers?"
He was younger than Jacob by maybe four or five years, and his eyes hadn't taken on the same rock-like quality. There was still a hint of humanity in them.
"It was Jacob's idea. He said we should practice before we came back. I-I'm sorry about you having to see them die. He was supposed to kill you first. But you looked so much like Isabella, that I guess he just couldn't bring himself to do it," Ben turned away, ashamed at his willingness to go along with Jacob. "We shouldn't have done it."
"No, you shouldn't have," at the thought of the two brothers she would never see again Leigh felt tears fill her eyes, and she began to cry softly.
Ben cautiously placed one hand on her shoulder, from a good distance, and made shushing noises, "Now don't do that; you'll wake Jacob."
The sound of his name melted the cold grief into burning anger, and her tears stopped.
"Now that's a good girl," Ben whispered, and he led Leigh to a couch, sitting her down. She shivered; this basement room was chilly, and her gown did nothing to insulate warmth.
Ben noticed, and bent over slightly, pulling off his black hoodie. He handed it to her, and Leigh accepted it gratefully. She slid out of the robe, which was only a nuisance, and pulled the hoodie over her head. It was large, and reached past the bodice, so Leigh brought her feet up onto the couch and tucked her legs under it.
Sitting next to her, Ben began to twist his t-shirt in his fingers. "I really am sorry. I wish there was a way I could make it up to you."
"There is," Leigh said stonily, before her consciousness even knew the plot her subconscious had been concocting for a while now. "Help me."
"Help you? You mean, betray him?" They both knew who he was without naming him, and Leigh nodded in acquiescence.
"Exactly."
"Alright," Leigh turned, wide eyed, at his response. She hadn't expected compliance.
"Really?"
"Well, I'll help you stay out of his way, as much as I can," Ben shrugged.
Leigh sighed, exasperated, "No, that's not enough. Either you help me get out of here, or I'll tell Jacob you raped me."
Ben looked up at her, alarmed, and suddenly worried. The fear in his eyes told Leigh that he knew how atrocious the consequences to a front like that would be. Jacob would never allow for anyone but he to touch her, and Ben knew it. He pressed his face into his hands and sighed. It came out muffled and defeated, and Leigh knew she had won. When he tilted his head up he turned to her, the obedience evident in his face.
"We'll do it tonight. I just want to get it over with," Ben drew in a deep breath and then let it out again before continuing, "Jacob's asleep right now. I'll sneak you out the front. Come on."
He stood and stalked to the stairs, his head bowed and his back bent. Leigh followed quietly, but her whole body was quivering in anticipation. She followed him up the staircase and down the hall, up more stairs, and into the music room. There she stopped Ben by placing her fingers on his elbow and tugging on his arm.
"I want to touch it again."
Ben spun around, shocked, "You wouldn't dare!"
"I would," Leigh turned away from him and sauntered over to where the Stradivarius was hung.
"That was Isabella's violin!" Ben whispered loudly as he followed her. Leigh shrugged and held it up to her chin. Her fingers played over the strings, plucking them, and the notes rang out clearly.
Leigh closed her eyes and melted into the music. But her eyes opened suddenly when she heard the bare whisper of a sound coming from the living room. The sound of someone brushing against furniture.
"Come on!" Ben said, his voice panicky. He grasped Leigh's arm, and dragged her toward the kitchen.
Her grip on the violin loosened, and the precious instrument flew out of her hand. For the second time, the instant seemed to be caught in cold molasses. Leigh watched the violin pop up in the air, and then descend. Time again caught up, but this time with the crash of the violin against the floor. The carpet cushioned it a bit, but not enough to stop the neck from cracking and the body from smashing inwards. Leigh stared, horrified, but Ben only hauled her forwards. She turned and ran with him, and they made it to the stairs before Jacob saw them.
Leigh heard his roar from the top of the staircase, and it gave impetus to her feet. She raced for the other stairs, the ones that led out, Ben on her heels. But Jacob's anger gave him speed, and he caught Ben by punching him in the back, and knocking him over. Jacob stood over him, each foot planted on either side of his chest. As soon as he fell Leigh stopped, spinning around, and watched, unable to run.
Jacob's eyes were on Ben's, and he never moved them up as he calmly reached into his waistband and drew out his knife. He aimed for Ben's throat, but at the last moment Ben reached up and twisted Jacob's wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor.
"You fucker!" Jacob snarled as he tried to regain control, but Ben was fast, and he smashed the heel of his hand into Jacob's nose. It cracked soundly, and began to pour blood.
The sight of his own blood shocked Jacob into inaction. He reached up and dabbed at the crimson that was flowing over his lips and dripping off his chin. Ben jumped at the opportunity, kicking upward. His shinbone connected solidly with Jacob's crotch. Jacob moaned and fell sideways, landing on his knees and palms on the boards. Ben scrambled to his feet, and Leigh, crouched in a corner, finally saw the ruthless killer that had been lurking inside him. It was now, watching Ben flip Jacob over and beat him in the face, did Leigh remember Cory.
But she didn't have time to reminisce. Jacob had kicked Ben in the knees, knocking him over, and the two were now wrestling too close to her for comfort. Leigh sprung up and jumped over them. She raced for the door and tugged at it. Locked, of course. Cursing in between gulps of air, Leigh slumped against the wall, and watched the action in the middle of the room.
Much to her chagrin Jacob had taken control of the fight again. He was straddling Ben's chest, slugging him in the face and throat. His hands and face was covered in blood, and the breath seethed through his teeth, but he wouldn't stop hitting Ben. Leigh watched until she could watch no more and she opened her mouth, with the intention of telling him to stop. But just as she did this Jacob released his hold on Ben and sat up. His eyes flickered upward to Leigh for a split second and he grimaced. His hands went down to the sides of Ben's head and with a quick twist there was a snap, and Ben's head hung askew.
Jacob crawled off of Ben, wiping his bloody face with his shirt sleeve. His eyes found Leigh again, and standing, he approached her. She found herself frozen as he pressed his body against hers and ran his wet fingers roughly through her hair, knotting it up. Tilting her head back he lowered his mouth to her ear:
"You shouldn't have done that," He whispered fiercely, and before she knew it his other hand had gone to the back of her knees. A quick push knocked her to the floor, hard, on her back, and the wind rushed out of her lungs.
Leigh gasped and clawed at the air, but Jacob had already found her throat. His long powerful fingers wrapped around it, and squeezed. Immediately Leigh tried to suck in a breath, but it was in vain. Her fingers went up to his face and clawed at it, leaving deep red gouges, but he just kept wringing.
Her sight grew dim and fuzzy, and there was a fire in her chest that spread through her throat and turned into numbness on her lips. Blood pounded through her head, stomach, while her hands and feet grew tingly.
Jacob watched Leigh die, and when he was sure he had wrung all the life out of her he dropped her head to the floor. He went back to the kitchen and glanced at the clock. It read ten minutes to ten.
"I think I'll go get breakfast," he mused, and with that Jacob exited the house, leaving Ben's and Leigh's bodies lying on the floor.