ITLE: Oh My Darling
AUTHOR: Late March
GENRE: Suspense, Horror
CHAPTER: 2/7
SYNOPSIS: What if Ellie and James were never married? What if James was just born that way? What if they were just two strangers... An alternate version of 'Honey I'm Home.' Just two strangers, who locked eyes, who saw through each other, who connected?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I didn't get too much of a response for the first chapter, but hopefully someone can review for this chapter? Actually, more than just one person.

This chapter is dedicated to my made-of-awesome beta reader, Megan, who laughs at grouses with me, and to Eddie Izzard. Simply because he is pure awesomeness.

"Wide Eyed Watching"
"Gasoline & Matches" by Buddy & Judy Miller

She stumbled over a half crushed soda can three-quarters of the way down the main street. Darting shadows peeking in at the corners of her eyes haunted her as she ran. Her legs, in their tights and pumps and knee-length skirt, struggled to eat up the damp pavement. She had to get home and lock the door. Get home and lock the door. Home. Door.

That would stop him.

Back in the alley, the man, Pierrot, smiled. He licked his lips, but grimaced and spit when the taint of his own blood lingered on the inside of his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cracked his knuckles. He shook them out like a boxer, then curled them into fists and remembered how the woman had done the same thing. She had a decent right cross.

He smiled hellishly and pondered whether he should whisper that to her while she cried. It would make the scene more memorable, theatrical – something to distinguish it from the others. He set out after her, and savored the pursuit.

Ellie whipped around a corner and the knuckle of her right hand grazed the rough brick wall. It was scraped and sore as she sprinted for her life.

She skittered to a stop in front of a police car that was halted at a red stoplight. Her purse, still dangling from one arm, banged on the hood as she leaned on it to rest. The officers got out of the door quickly at the sight of her, but stayed behind their doors, wary. "Please…" She gasped between gulps. "Please, you must…"

Her words trailed off as the angelic figure of the madman appeared at the end of the street, lit sepia by the old streetlights. And though he was still relatively far away, the contrasts of his mask were still clear as day to her.

The police officers asked her questions in guarded voices, but their words were lost on Ellie. She tripped over her own feet in her hurry to get away, her flight mechanism surging through her blood stream, and left her black high heels lying forlornly on their sides in the street.

She was sprinting again before the police could reach her at the front of their car. Ellie dodged a lone Honda turning onto the street, letting out a startled cry when the brights blinded her and the car honked its horn at her. A mother exciting her minivan with her child frowned at her, turning the small boy's face in the opposite direction, and quickly ushering him into their apartment building.

Her feet, shoeless and frozen from the puddles littering the street, couldn't gain anymore traction on the ground and she went sprawling in the middle of the deserted street. Her head banged on the pavement painfully and the world spun in dizzying of black, white, and silver. She sat up on her knees when her head had cleared marginally and put a hand to her head. She prayed that there wouldn't be blood.

Something pale whizzed past her head, a tornado of energy and malice. From the opposite direction came Pierrot's hot breath on her cheek, hungry, covetous. He placed his cold, gloved hands flushed against Ellie's cheeks and held her head in place. His much larger body, with her back pressed unwillingly against his chest, was more than enough of a cage to hold the rest of her body down. In any case, the waves of emotion – danger, anxiety, sadness, insanity – radiating from his flesh, was enough to alert her to his extreme proximity.

"Nice." His graveled voice rumbled from behind his mask as his fingers dug into her cheeks. "Right." Tighter and tighter they pressed down. "Cross." Ellie screamed shrilly as his fingernails broke the skin on her face, drawing blood. His chuckle sounded in her ear – low, throaty, and pleased.

"What do you-"

His hand left her cheek to lay over her lips. "Shhh…don't speak. Just….watch."

As soon as the words left his mouth her eyes caught sight of something at the other end of the street. A car – an eighteen wheeler big rig. The headlights blinded her, enlarging the black pupils till they nearly touched the very edge of her eyes.

Its horn blared, a warning to stay out of its way that was unheeded. Ellie began to struggle in his strong hold, her body twisting wildly, the muscles in her arms bulging in their attempt to break free. She struggled to push up out of her kneeling position, but it was useless.

Her neck creaked ominously as her head broke free of his hold. Pierrot swore elegantly as her pearly white teeth sunk into the hand that had covered her lips. His grunt of surprise and pain gave her little satisfaction. Even with such an attempt, he was strong enough to hold her in place.

By then the big rig was close enough for her to see the driver's eyes – wide with fright and uncertainty. Ellie squeezed her eyes tight, letting the silver grill of the wide truck be the last image she saw. Her body tensed in anticipation, waiting for the moment of impact. The horn blared again, like a ship lost in a fog, and her fingers curled into tight balls of fear and –

She was flung to the side; the jolt of her body hitting the sidewalk was bracingly real. Her captor rolled with her, dragging her out of the way of death at the last second. He still had not let go of her.

Her mind latched onto the hope that the truck driver would stop and help her. He would call the police and fight off her attacker and she would be saved. Saved! But the truck crushed that hope, powering on down the street, the driver too scared of the dark citizens of Bay City. Ellie watched the Maine license plate grow smaller and smaller.

Pierrot sat up, pulling the woman with him so that they were facing each other. Her eyes were as expansive as the truck's hub caps had been, and she seemed frozen in shock. He placed his hands on her cheeks again, rubbing his thumbs against the already scabbing over wounds, and smiled. "We couldn't have you getting squashed, now could we?"

Her eyes flickered at his voice, his taunt, his play to mess with her mind. They stared at each other for a long time, the tension of hunter and prey thick between them. His grin gradually faded underneath his mask till his face was as dead as when she'd found him in the alley.

He awoke from his staring because of the sharp pain in his thigh.

His captive took advantage of his surprise and lunged to her feet. The glint of metal in her hand told him that she'd dug her keys from her purse and stabbed at his thigh with them. She'd cut across the street by the time he'd gained his feet. "Well, if she wants to be the mouse…"

Ellie sprinted for all she was worth, down the next street and up the stairs, into her building to finally charge into the elevator in the lobby. But it wasn't the ride of relief that she had expected – there was no feeling of safety. The ride up to her floor turned out to be brutal – at ever moment she expected the madman to pop up from some impossible place and finish his night in blood.

As soon as the metal doors opened she burst out of them and ran down the hall, not caring that she tripped her cranky, cat-loving neighbor, Mr. Furinball. His yells beat at her ears as she fumbled for her keys and unlocked her front door.

She slammed it shut and locked it with shaking fingers. Her back pressed against the wooden door as she slid down it and sat on the floor, her hair pooling about her in a rumpled mess. She put her head in her hands and tried to push the night away, over an abyss where it could never reach her again. With that not working she walked into her living room and switched on the TV. Ellie turned the volume all the way up, blasting it, not caring that her lease forbade doing so. 'There has to be something here to knock me out for the night…'

Pierrot watched her from the ledge of her living room window, his legs folded underneath his body casually. "Oh, what a lovely game." He announced to himself, and laughed, placing a hand over his chest in true mirth.

Come one guys, please tell me what you think!