The Boy in the Bushes.

“Who sent you?” The breathing on my ear increases as the voice speaks in a raspy tone, his horrid breath taking over my nostrils.
“Wh-What?” I muttered out, keeping my eyes shut.
“Who sent you?!” He hits the back of the knife against the log, my guess is to try and startle and answer out of me.
“No one sent me! I come here very often!” I closed my eyes tighter, trying to imagine if I keep them closed long enough, this rabid man might disappear.
“Then why haven’t I seen you here before!?” He demands an answer, pressing the blade back to my neck.
“This is the first time I’ve come in a month!” I cowered under him, obviously this man is much stronger than I am and could kill me whenever he wanted.
“Open your eyes.” He hisses at me. I keep them close and he repeats with a heated slap to my face, knocking off my hat. He gasps and I hear a thump along with the weight of him falling off of me. I blink for a moment before turning to my side to see what is not a man, but a boy. About my age, maybe a year or two older, slight scruff on his face, bright blue eyes that are filled with fear and madness, along with confusion in the mix. He has full lips, his shirt is torn from the chest down to his rib cage where a gash in his skin matches the tear and I see obvious blood stains. He staggers back, hitting a tree and I could swear I almost hear a whimper out of him. Maybe it was out of pain or maybe the tree scared him.

I stay still for a moment, as if he were some sort of wild animal that could attack me at any given time before I realize he’s not moving. He’s too stricken with fear and pain to try and get up again. But he doesn’t take his eyes off me, still scared I may hurt him.

“You..” He mumbled from between his chapped lips.

I stood quiet, eyeing him over a bit just as he’s been eyeing me and furrow my brows, just as I do when I’m confused or upset. I slowly get up from the log and he flinches a bit. Maybe he did whimper because he’s afraid. But of me? Why? I’m surely much smaller than him and he’s even a bit bigger than Ronin from what I can tell. I move cautiously to my left ready to make a run out of the jungle before I hear him whimper again, “Don’t go.”

Don’t go? Isn’t he afraid of me? Wouldn’t he rather me gone than still here? I just stand still, looking at him and my throat becomes dry. But I want to know more about him, what his story is and why he’s so afraid of me. So I obey to his demand.

“Deshae.” He struggles to get out, his voice is shaky and he closes his eyes, trying to use the same technique I did before when he was on top of me with the knife but he pulls his hands up, pressing his palms to his ears. Why is that this rabid boy knowing my name is such a shock to me when surely, everyone in the country knows who I am. “Tell him I’m sorry, tell him he can kill me. I’m sorry!” He pulls up his knees, wrapping his arms around them and hides his face. Who?

“What?” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear over the buzzing from the birds and the bugs around us.
“Your father.” He says once more before I notice the tremble in his body. I slowly make my way over to him, knowing this move could mean my life. But something tells me he has his guard down and he seems to be more afraid of me than I am him.
“I don’t have a father.” I say slowly before I inch closer to him, standing over the trembling frail body. He doesn’t answer, he just stays hidden. Slowly I move myself to kneel in front of him, placing a hand on the top of his head to try and work him out of his make believe den he’s created with his arms.. His arms are scarred. From either blades or being burnt, I can’t tell. “No one’s going to kill you here.” I try and muster up the most soothing voice I can to assure this boy who remains nameless knows that I’m not a threat. I’m the exact opposite. I couldn’t kill a person if I really wanted to. “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” I lower my voice, stroking my fingers slowly over the scars on his arms to try and comfort him and to make sense of what they might have come from. It must be working because I see the trembling stop. “What’s your name?” I raise my voice a bit, curious, so very curious.Before I knew it, an arm pushes me back and he looks at me, trying to look defensive but his eyes give away that he’s still scared.

“Why?! So you can tell your daddy? So HE can kill me?” He tightens his grip around his legs and I see his upper lip snarl slightly.
“No. I told you, I don’t have a father. That man isn’t my father!” I say again, moving near him, eager to gain his trust even if it’s just for the moment. I don’t know for what, maybe I just feel really bad. But there has to be a reason why he’s so scared, why he keeps bringing up my step father, and why he’s so beaten up.
“I know who you are. The President’s daughter, Deshae Mandeville. You’re seventeen, you have bright red hair” He gestures toward my hair which was the dead giveaway to who I was when he knocked off my hat, “And you’re not very tall, curved, tiny figure which sends the rich towns boys into frenzies.” He lets out a soft, hallow chuckle as he looks at me and my mouth is slightly agape. “Am I right or am I right?” His terrified expression quickly turned into something of enjoyment.

I know why he hasn’t killed me yet. Seeing as I’m the president’s daughter, killing me will only cause the need my Step Father has for him dead stronger. He may not even kill him, but torture. Obviously, he’s not a stranger to torture. He knows this, which is some of the fear I can see built in his eyes.

“No, he’s not my father!” I retort, hissing the words a bit. “He’s my step father!” I growl, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Same thing. You’re still going to turn me in.” He spits at me.
“No, I’m not! I don’t even know who you are! I don’t even know your name!” I release my arms, pushing myself to stand up. He takes this as a threat because whatever was paining him before doesn’t hold him back from standing up as well so he can keep a better eye on me. He’s bigger than I thought.

“That doesn’t matter. You probably have this place swarming with guards! He probably sent you out here because he thinks a boy like me can’t resist,” He steps closer to me, pressing the blade to my chin, “A rich, gorgeous girl such as yourself.” He allows the blade to trace over my jaw.
“Check for yourself! I came here alone.” I let out another growl, allowing the blade to graze against my skin as I motion one of my hands to the jungle.

“I will.” He grins slightly, and a chill is sent through me. “After this,” He moves the blade and quickly raises his elbow, not giving me enough time to react and shoves it right into the side of my head. First pain then darkness.