The ground is cold, unforgiving, and covered in rocks that dig into the bottoms of Penny’s feet. Warm liquid rushes down from the wounds, grounding her as she runs for her life.

Her feet thump against the ground again and again, and once more she cries out in pain. It hurts—it burns—and while she desperately wants to stop, her mind screams at her to keep going.

She knows this isn’t a game that Sebastian wanted to try out. At first, when he came to her late in the night, she’d assumed he just needed a good run and didn’t want to be bored.

She just hadn’t known that that run would quickly turn into a chase.

And really, how could she have? Sebastian was perfect—dark hair, dark eyes, kind; everything she’d wanted in a guy. He had never given the slightest bit of a hint, never brought up a shadow of doubt in Penny’s mind.

Sebastian was the kind of man who opens doors for you, who buys you sweets without being asked, who smiles and just says, “you’re still lovely,” when you cry.

He’s the kind of man you look at and just know, deep in your gut, that he’s “the one,” as people say.

He’s also the man who’s currently chasing her down with a fucking knife.

Looking back on it, Penny can see some inconsistencies. The amount of past lovers he’s had—who, most of if not all, died in tragic circumstances. It was in the way his smile wasn’t quite right whenever someone sneaked in the name of one of those past people.

She doesn’t know how she had been so blind. Then again, people do say love does that to you, right?

Something cracks in the distance, just a short bit away from her. Penny stumbles, and in her pained and panicked state her balance grows unstable. Her feet have been cut up far too much for her to get it back, and the next thing Penny knows, she’s on her side, heaving.

The next few seconds happen in a bit of a blur, her mind being in the tangled mess that it was. She was confused, heartbroken, and more than a bit upset. Hell, she was furious. Furious at Sebastain, furious at her father for ever introducing them in the first place that night in April—

But out of everyone, she’s most furious at herself.

She can blame whoever she wants; her parents, her brother. But it won’t change the fact that Sebastian stands over her now, a knife in one hand and his face covered in the veil of shadow the tree above them provides, and it’s all her fault.

For trusting, for giving in.

For loving.

“Sebastian,” Penny chokes out desperately, scrambling to get away from the looming figure. Her back hits the trunk of the tree, and the rattle that the collision sends through her body makes her cry out in pain; her feet lighting on fire. “Sebastian, stop!”

And there’s a moment then—quick, almost unnoticeable—when that hand holding the knife grows just that bit slack. Just enough to tell Penny that, maybe, despite it all, there’s a chance.

So she goes for it.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” she hisses, her panic audible, “but I can help you figure it out. You want to go hunting for animals? Fine—that’s fine, Sebastian, whatever—but I’m—I’m not a fucking rabbit!”

And then, with her eyes locked on that hand, she sees it; the tightening of his hold.

“Maybe I don’t want a rabbit to chase,” he says finally, and his voice is more distant and foreign than Penny’s ever heard it. He crouches down in front of her slowly, and a part of his face comes into view.

And here, Penny feels that doom in her stomach tighten.

It makes her squirm under Sebastian’s gaze, and in her discomfort her feet brushed against some higher ground. She hisses, her face contorting, and she instantly snatches her foot back.

When she finally collects her bearings and looks back up, she whines in distress.

His dark eyes—so beautiful, so charming—are filled with something bitter—something so disturbingly, vividly hungry that it makes Penny whine in the back of her throat.

He keeps going, “Maybe, I want something that can love me,” and here, when Penny might expect a smirk, he smiles. It’s small, it’s sad, and it’s almost… resigned. “What’s the fun in chasing something if I can’t see the betrayal in its eyes when I catch up to it?”

And Penny… doesn’t know what to say.

She doesn’t know what to say, because her mind is too busy recalling every single encounter she’s had with this man—with her lover—and trying to fit the title of ‘TRAITOR’ where her heart would not allow.

Her throat is dry, her hands are clammy, her feet are bloody and wounded and she’s in so much pain—

And she’s silent.

She’s silent, because she doesn’t have anything to say to Sebastian. Silent, because even if she did, her body would not let her do otherwise.

Silent, because she’s hurt—and not all physically.

And that silence is heavy.

Sebastian just keeps looking at her with those eyes of his, that knife still in hand. That smirk has faded into a thin line, and what had looked to be joy in those depths of brown now seemed something more serious.

“Well?” he says slowly, and there’s a not quite right twist to his lips.

Penny doesn’t speak.

“Fucking say something!” Sebastian growls, and his open hand comes up to slam against the side of the tree, caging Penny in and making her take a sharp inhale of breath. “I’ve done all of this work, spent all of this time preparing—say something!”

Penny’s eyes are wild, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She doesn’t know why Sebastian wants her to talk so bad—after all, she’s just prey, isn’t she? Since when has anybody needed their prey to speak?

But that gleam in Sebastian’s eyes… it’s something dark. Something twisted, and wrong, and so out of place in those pretty eyes, and yet—

So, so right.

It’s like this is the true form Sebastian was always meant to take, and now that it’s in front of her, Penny somehow can’t picture a version of him without that madness.

Penny opens her mouth, and even when she does she doesn’t register she’s doing it. She doesn’t think, doesn’t even know she’s about to speak—but the words come out anyways; the question she longs for the answer to:

“Why?”

Her voice comes out weak, something small and scared.

For the first time, something softens in Sebastian’s eyes, and a different sort of emotion fills them.

This time, the silence is from his part.

For what feels like hours, the only thing Penny hears is their mingling breath. Inhale, exhale—inhale, exhale…

It’s a process that Penny has done trillions of times, surely. And yet, she finds herself struggling. For a moment, she thinks she hears her own heartbeat with her breathing, too.

Then, finally—Sebastian sighs.

His empty hand picks at the loose frays of his jeans almost nervously, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and his vice wobbles at the ends of his words. There’s worry there, Penny registers, and fear. “I don’t know why I need it, but I—I do. I’m sick, I know, but I just need this—I need to feel loved and powerful—”

His voice seems to catch in his throat. The hand holding the knife tightens again, but this time it seems to be more to center himself than anything. It’s shaking, and there’s visible distress in the way his veins pop.

It’s quiet once again.

“I need to be feared. I need to be adored. I need to be… better.”

Memories flood her mind at once, flickering and blurry. There’s one from their very first date, where the waiter had smiled at Penny and she felt Sebastian’s hand tighten around her thigh. When she went home that night, she found bruises on her skin.

She remembers a few weeks after that, when Penny’s father had mentioned her past lover and Sebastian had spent the rest of that day ignoring her, his jaw tightened and his eyes distant.

She remembers a time, only a month ago now, when she left the apartment in the middle of the night to get a drink at the gas station, and came back to Sebastian’s frenzied face. He’d been so panicked, so angry and nearly aggressive when he slammed his door shut then.

Not for the first time, Penny marvels at her own stupidity.

Her eyes sink shut, and she lets her head fall back against the trunk. Her feet throb horribly, but she only winces and extends her legs.

“And I was just…”

Penny’s voice trails off, and she doesn’t want to finish that sentence. Doesn’t want to hear the confirmation. Doesn’t, for the first time, truly yearn for the answer to a problem she asks about.

Her stomach churns. Her throat hurts. There’s claws coming up Penny’s throat, trying to grab for her voice box and just squeeze. She’s nauseous suddenly, bile joining those claws in its mission to keep Penny silent.

She swallows it all down and finishes it anyway, because if she’s going to die—she damn well should have this one last answer.

“I was just—just the unlucky soul who you decided to torture, huh?”

This time, her question is not answered with words.

Instead, it’s answered with cold metal pressing into her neck, a snarl on the love of her life’s face, and the liquid that trails down her pale skin when that knife digs in.

And it’s Sebastian’s voice—his deep, scared, confused voice—that says,

“I’ve never known how to love, Penny. But if anyone could help me—I think it would’ve been you. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m so fucked.”

There’s a crack in that sentence. Just a small one, but one Penny catches onto, anyway. She catches it, and she holds on for dear life—because in her mind, that crack is now the only part of the man she loves she has left.

And when the world goes black a moment later, Penny’s last flickering memory is of a time when they could laugh together. When Sebastian’s eyes were bright, his grin sincere and charming, and when her own eyes shined with something she’d thought would always be missing.

And it’s with Sebastian’s face in mind that Penny falls dead to the world.

Just another corpse.

Another victory to the gentleman she loved.

Another snagged piece of prey to a devoted hunter.

*My second story on here, yay!!!!!

This kinda got away from me, honestly. I just felt like writing something dark, idk :)

I hope you enjoyed! If it’s a bit choppy at some places, I’m sorry! It’s just late and I’m way too lazy to revise 🫠 but hey, at least it’s done?? That has to count for something!

Also, I really enjoyed this prompt. It was fun, despite my exhaustion. This turned out a lot longer than I had expected, but I mean, that’s sort of the joy of writing, right? The unpredictably of where your story will end up and all that.

Anyway, thank you for reading! If you have sticked around long enough to read this little rant, I hope you weren’t too confused by the story? Pacing is not my strong suit, guys!

I do hope you have a lovely rest of your timezone and wake up feeling really energized and happy! You’re always appreciated here :)