The Heartless Beast, Chapter 1

Helena Gleason stood at the bus stop and crossed her arms in front of her, freezing. It was still raining, and she had forgotten her umbrella on the kitchen counter this morning. She was all scatterbrained since David left her a week ago because he had fallen in love with someone else.

Her hair and her clothes were a mess, and she was sure her boss would fire her soon. She forgot about meetings, schedules, files. Her life was something she didn't enjoy much at the moment. She even considered ending it with sleeping pills, but she just knew she'd fuck that up too. Maybe I should take a hot bath and open my veins, she thought. That's how the Romans did it. Nice and easy. Just fall asleep and never wake up again. She had never been suicidal in her life, but there was something else now she had never been before: Pregnant.

How am I supposed to work my ass off and raise a child by myself? She wondered, not knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore soon.

She stood there in the pouring rain and thought about an abortion, or maybe she should tell David, and he'd come back or at least pay child support, or maybe she could get a better job or…she looked at her watch impatiently. Where was that bloody bus? It was almost ten at night, and this wasn't exactly the best part of town to wait for a bus, and she was all alone.

She could hear sirens in the distance, and glass shuttering nearby. Helena winced and opened her purse. She rummaged through it slowly and, as she heard approaching footfalls, more hastily and sighed with relief when she found her small bottle with pepper spray. She hid it in her palm and looked around nervously. She could still hear the footsteps, louder now, coming from the small, littered park she wouldn't set a foot in even if her life depended on it, but there was no one to be seen.

Helena shifted her feet and swallowed. Her throat had gone dry and her heart was racing. Something about those footfalls was very menacing. They seemed so confident, so…so fateful. I'm coming to get you, they said. Almost there, honey, almost there…

Helena laughed, a short barking sound that sounded like a choked sob. She was scared. There was no faking it, she was scared badly. She rose the tiny bottle of pepper spray and looked around wildly with eyes that seemed to bulge out of their sockets. The footfalls were still there and suddenly, they stopped.

Helena's breath came in short, harsh puffs. Where was that guy, dammit! A clanking sound on her right side made her jump and she screamed. Pull yourself together! Her mind yelled at her, it's just an empty can! Helena tried to gather herself. It was a can, all right, a can someone had kicked into her direction. And the short clanking made it clear to her that the one who had kicked it was only a few paces away. He's standing there, pretty close to me, watching me. He kicked the can to scare me. Helena's self control faltered completely when she heard another sound: a cold, cruel snicker.

Helena turned around and broke into a run. She ran to the right, away from the park, away from the place the footfalls had died in, and ran. She held her pepper spray in her right hand, outstretched and ready to be used. She turned her head and threw a panicky glance back to where she had been waiting for the bus. The dim streetlight illuminated the bus stop, now completely deserted. No one was chasing her.

I'm gonna run a few blocks and call a cab, she thought still frightened, fuck the bus. She even considered running into the small park, her life could be depending on it after all.

Helena snapped her head away from the bus stop and looked straight forward again, determined to reach the next street corner and get her cell phone out of her purse and call for the cab when a white face appeared behind a tree she was just passing and a tall, slim figure stepped in front of her with confident, elegant movements, but no haste. He was clad in black. Helena was sure she felt her hair turn white the very second she looked into his pale, gaunt face. It was that of a teen-aged boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, very handsome, and very crazy. He was grinning. Grinning like a shark. Like an insane shark. Helena raised her forgotten arm again, ready to use her forgotten pepper spray when the boy's arm jerked up and his fist crashed into her nose with terrifying speed. One second she looked into his face, the next there was a giant, clenched fist, a powerful blow, numbness, blood and darkness.

She wouldn't need sleeping pills or a hot bath, but her passing was neither nice nor easy.