05-Reality in Question

His hand, which was now a brownish colour with sweeping fingernails and elongated bones swiped at. I snapped out of my shrieking and slid down the wall, curling into the fetal position. Having ducked his swing, I expected him to be infuriated and try again. Instead, he threw his arms out and laughed, which just scared me more. He made a deep rumbling sound, then grabbed the collar on the back of my shirt and yanked me up off my feet. I kicked out and pulled at his hands, trying to breathe better.
"Now now now... this ain't no fun." He chuckled. "What happened to all the fight you used to have in you.There used to be days when no Resident would touch you. But now you're just a scared little girl, hardly the trophy you were."
His voice was slimy and he clicked some of his words. It only made me shiver. I scrambled, loosing air every time he jerked me. My mind grasped at the fleeting plans I came up with, but they were soon beaten down by overwhelming fear.It was the only thing that had control over me, other than the waking instinct prowling inside me. I realised that if I was going to get anywhere, I had to choose one or the other.
As if it understood, as soon as I made the conscious decision I felt calm seeping back. My eyes went cold and hard. Self defense had taught me to aim for the groin in situations like these, but an unknown source of knowledge told me that the weakest spot was the knee. I kicked again, this time aiming for his knee cap. I heard his leg flick back with the impact and a crack burst out as the bone snapped. He screeched, dropping me roughly and backing away, part of his leg obviously broken. I shuffled back to the wall, my instinct having disappeared with that act. I knew he was hardly finished and knew he would be livid. In a futile attempt to block him out, I put my hand over my eyes.
Howls of pain and fury echoed, along with fast footsteps. Something smashed against the wall above my head and gravel rained down on me. The man creature silenced, but was soon replaced by that of something else. My attacker grunted and water splashed on my face. Air whistled through flying claws and though I was curious, I dared not peek. I flinched when more drops landed on me, sounds of fighting continued. When I finally gathered the courage to start moving my hands, I searched along the ground until I came across a chunk of rock. I gripped it.
The skirmish ended with a hollow moan. The concrete shuddered as something fell. My erratic breathing became the only sound. I tightened my fingers on the rock, waiting a few seconds. When nothing else happened, I peeked out from under my lashes. Deep blue eyes stared back at me, only a few inches in front of my face.
"Isadore?"
I gasped and flung my hand out, catching his arm with what I now realised was a shard of brick. He gasped and fell back, not expecting my attack. Before I knew it, I was up off the ground and running away down the alley. The colour streaked past, blurred in my panic. I don't remember where I dropped the brick.
The only thing that stopped me from escaping the terrifying ordeal was the body.
"Isadore! Wait!"
It was more than my body could take, so I simply shut down. Luckily, hands caught me before I hit the dirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing I was aware of was cloth under me. Then the ticking of my clock. Then the breathing of someone else near me. I stayed as still as possible, trying to glean the more information before I betrayed myself to the visitor.
Peeking out from under my eyelashes told me I was in my room, and confirmed that there was someone sitting in my desk chair. From what I could see of him, he was leaned back, my writing journal in his hands. He flicked through a few pages. I carefully opened my eyes further.

It was him.

He lounged back, reading, probably waiting for me to wake up. The more I looked at him, the more questions arose. What happened back in the alley? Did he carry me here after I fainted? How did he know where I live? Why was he still here? Who was he? Was he really as gorgeous as I imagined my character?

I shook my head, scattering my thoughts away. With a slight turn of his head, he looked me in the eyes. I took a sharp breath. He put my book down on the desk, the turned to face me.

"How are you feeling?"

My imagination went wild, noticing all the similarities in his mannerisms. His voice, like silk and salt. His eyes were gentle but warning. He moved with slow grace, telling of his lithe killer instincts. There was no difference between him and the character of my imagination.

"Isadore, are you all right?"

"What? Oh, ah... Yes."

He let his head sink forward in a sigh. "Good. You gave me a scare there, that's not an easy thing to do. But the way you acted when that Resident showed up, you didn't even begin to defend yourself. You had me worried."

I continued giving him a perplexed look. He suddenly became concerned again.

"You do remember what happened, right?"

I shut my eyes, shying away from the memories of the body. After I had made my escape, I had almost tripped over it's leg. The Officer, if he ever was one, had had his throat slit and was lying in a pool of his own blood. Orange blood.

"Yes. I remember. I just don't understand." I managed. "You... killed him."

"Yes. He was going to kill you. And you didn't seem to be doing anything about it, even though I know you could have."

"What are you talking about? I don't know you."

"Isadore, you can stop pretending now."

"Isabel. It's Isabel."

"What?"

"My name is not Isadore, it's Isabel."

He stared at me for a long time, searching my eyes for any sign that I was lying. Eventually, he let out a ragged sigh and began mumbling under his breath. I chose to ignore this, as a more concerning question rose up. After thinking about the events of the day, I realised I still didn't know one thing.

"Okay, I'm going to overlook all the weird things that have happened today. How you know so much about me, especially that... but, first I want to know." I moved closer expectantly. "Who are you?"

"My name is Arin."

Before he said the words, I had already known. There was no difference between him and the boy of my imagination.

They were the same.