Checkmate, Chamomile

She tiptoed towards the door. Five steps until freedom…

Two steps until freedom… One step until-

“Jade?” came an uncertain, groggy voice. She, forgetting all about stealth, bolted out the door. Dmitri's eyes widened as he realized that it was indeed Jade, and he threw on his tan coat and his black boots.

‘Another game of cat and mouse,' he mused as he burst outdoors.

‘This will be fun to play.’

Jade ran through the chamomiles as she passed the garden. Normally, she would have stopped to admire the beautiful flowers, but this time she had no time. She was the sheep, and the wolf was out to snatch her away from her life once more. She sprinted through the hallways, knowing Dmitri would catch up if she did not run like her life depended on it. Her legs burned, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins was unstoppable. She took a detour to throw Dmitri off course. She took turns, left and right, until she stood before a tall, metal gate. She would have burst through and she would have gained her freedom at last, but the gates… They were locked.

Desperately she attempted to climb the gate to get away, falling each time, leaving a bruise each time. She was never very athletic. Unfortunately for her, Dmitri was.

She grabbed the bars and began to make her way up once more. This time, though, arms were there to catch her when she fell. Strong, muscular arms. She scrambled away from her ‘savior’ and away she ran. She finally reached the white flowers and hid in the sea of chamomiles, hoping that he would not find her.

‘The flowers are blessed,’ she thought after a few moments, ‘they don't need to fret about freedom because they are free, in a way.’ She smiled faintly, a bitter smile of sorrow and self-pity.

After a few minutes crouching in the garden, she quietly stood up, assuming he would not be there. She was wrong.

“Jade.” came a monotonous voice. “C'mere, dear.” She stared at him, but did not dare budge.

His hair was messed up, his white shirt crumpled, and his eyes-

His violet eyes were wild, hovering over her body. She felt naked under his unyielding gaze. She stumbled back, into the field of chamomiles, trying to hide herself from him as if she really were unclothed.

Her eyes, glazed over with fear, could barely make out someone drawing closer, a hand roughly grabbing her wrist and pulling her shaking body close to his. She could feel strong arms envelope her in a tight embrace, and she could feel him tremble with rage, uncertainty, insanity, and-

He squeezed her tight, as if he was afraid she would disappear in front of him.

Fear, she realized. He was scared as much as she was. But for other, different reasons.

She was scared for her life. And he was scared of losing her to his own insanity, his dark side that threatened to creep out, just like the night he killed his brother, ten years ago.