I pushed her away from me, feeling her teeth tear from the skin of my shoulder, the moisture that was more blood than anything else. I glanced down at the jagged wound, the blood that stained the crisp, white fabric of my shirt and was momentarily consumed with rage. I glanced back at her and caught her defiant look, my hand raised on its own, she wasn’t the first to feel the sting of my hand, nor would she be the last. My fingers curled into a fist and I moved.

I don’t know if it was the instant fade of her bravado that stopped my hand, but her arms curled protectively over her head, her body sinking to the ground in a crouched fetal position. I sneered, angry at myself for holding the blow, as much as I was at her for giving in so easily, being so afraid of the pain. I stood there above her for a long moment, my chest rising and falling as if I had been jogging for a fair bit. I spat out a single word even as I shoved her back onto her ass with my foot.

‘Bitch.’

My hand went to my shoulder as I turned, my fingers feeling the jagged edges of skin under my shirt. My fingers were moist, I could smell the blood, my blood, as I pulled the shirt open forcefully, sending the buttons in every direction. I tossed it on the ground, casting a glance at her before I opened the small medicine cabinet behind the bar. She was as I left her, her eyes looking at me with a defiance and wariness that wore on me, I watched her rub her mouth, as if she could wipe away the lingering flavor of my blood. I cursed softly, more from frustration than anything else when I applied the gauze to the wound which leaked crimson steadily.

I threw the stained cloth into the sink and moved my arm slightly, watching the skin move. It was already clotting, a pattern of teeth could be seen amid the stain of blood and torn skin. She had made her mark on me first, it would seem. I snapped my fingers and pointed to a place a few feet in front of me. ‘Come here, Annerire.’

Her head tilted at an angle that would have been amusing had the circumstances been different and I, not been bleeding and angry. She didn’t move, the tilt of her lip suggested even that she thought to best me. I regretted again not striking her. Pain translates to fear and fear is a powerful bargaining chip in these negotiations. I carefully closed the box and slid it further onto the counter, my voice was soft, a cold anger was starting to harden in my gut.

‘Make no mistake that I will retrieve you if you do not come. Make no mistake that I will do so with any measure of force required. Do not have me repeat myself.’

She pushed back a strand of her hair and stood, circling around one of the club chairs that was near her. I watched her, turning as she moved, keeping my gaze steady on the caged animal before me. My shoulder stung and I clenched my jaw, she was frustrating me, moving as slowly as she was, moving in no forward pattern, but in a semi circle around me. I mentally measured the distance between her and the door.

It was only a moment later that I moved to place myself between her and it. She wouldn’t have gotten far, but the chase tends to send me where I did not want to be at the moment, in violence. I should have recognized that was a lost battle. I already smelled blood, that it was my own was merely a minor setback and would ensure that she spilled that much more.

Her hair was wild, a mass of black that I remembered her pulling back more than once in a pony tail. It’s odd how memories assail you even as you force yourself to make these new ones. I took a step towards her and she bolted, darting over one of the chairs. I moved, unwilling to allow her another moment of calm to steady herself. This was now my time. I had allowed her enough time alone, enough patience, enough God Damned peace. It was time to pay the piper.

My price was high.