Chapter Two (part 1) Chapter Two (part 2)
Comment to be added to the PM list.
This is my first fanfiction so any advice would be appreciated.
My hands burn and my head rushes. Everything is too hot. The woman is screaming, too loud, too bright, too strong, and someone is coming, too fast, too angry, too late.
I run, trees whir past. I need to go home. I cannot go home. He is dead. I am dead.
The screaming stops. She is dead too.
My name is Nina and for the past two months I have been having bad dreams.
I can smell it. I can smell the blood and it is strong, stronger than any I have smelt before. That was always piddling amounts, scrapes and scars and whisker-thin scratches that melt away under kisses and a gentle smile.
But that is a life I can never go back to. The blood will always be strong now. It will be strong or it will be my own.
They started, funnily enough, when I woke up. I woke up from a coma that had kept me lifeless for over five years. All my friends and family died in that time, in fires and raids started by a “Team Galactic” that were set up as I slept, but Marcus is still here, like he’s always been.
The man, the man is angry now. He screams and screams and it’s too loud, too much. A rock hurtles past my shoulder and I bolt, through more trees and bushes, thorns at my sides and his angry, stomping footfalls at my heels.
Marcus is good to me; I’m really lucky to have him. He’s always looking out for me and helping me, like today, when he’s giving me my first pokémon. He didn’t want to at first, he said I wouldn’t be safe, but now that his work with that laboratory in Veilstone is done and he has nothing to do, he’s warmed to the idea. He says we can travel round together, training up our pokemon, as a kind of pre-honeymoon before the wedding.
We’ve been planning our marriage since before the accident. We’re getting married in... well, I don’t know really. As I said, we want to train up our pokemon first and Marcus really doesn’t like the idea of getting married now, when Team Galactic is on the loose and so dangerous. He says a large number of people at one wedding would attract trouble and, besides, everyone would be nervous. We want our wedding to be a happy occasion.
The old baggage down the road says I’m too young to be married but I don’t really care what she thinks. Eighteen is a fine age, I’m practically an adult! Though, I suppose I’m not eighteen really. I mean, I’m twenty three technically.
I’ve never felt like it, though, never ever.
“Honey, come on. I’ve got something for you!”