August

August is a troubled adolescent. At home, his drunken stepfather makes his life hell, and at college he suffers at the hands of bullies. But August has never been one to break the law...until now. With a new taste for violence and a desire for vengeance, he begins to stalk 3 young women in a complicated and twisted search for power. [Rated 'Y' due to potentially disturbing/graphic content and frequent swearing]

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6. Chapter 6: The Pursuit

​We leave the college premises and begin a slow traipse along the roadside. I make sure that I stay at least ten metres behind them at all times. Lily, Jess and Meg are totally unaware that their every move is closely observed. If they were to look behind them and see me, then the tables may easily be turned. They might attempt to harm me, or simply try and rid me of their scent. Either way, I can't let them see me. I know that Meg's house isn't far from college, and so I try not to fuel my anxiety too much. 

I keep hearing odd snippets of their conversations, but a part of me wishes that I could be deaf so that I don't have to hear them droning on about the shit in their lives.

"He literally bought me the cheapest makeup he could find. It wasn't even a colour I liked!" Lily moans in her irritatingly monotonous voice.

"Seriously? And he calls himself a boyfriend? Disgusting." Meg exclaims, Jess nodding in agreement. I grimace in disgust; is this really the extent of their worries? I spend my days worrying about whether or not I'll survive another night's abuse, and they worry about the quality of their makeup?

We take a sharp right turn down a quaint little avenue. I slow my pace a little, falling behind another five metres or so; it would be disastrous to be spotted now. I decide to stop momentarily by a lamppost so I can watch which house they enter. They pause for a moment while Meg finds her house key, and then continue to her door. Number 52. I squint intently as they enter the house, but I'm too far away to see if they locked it behind them or not.

I gulp in the fresh air, trying to calm my nerves. ​It's ok. There's nothing to panic about. Calm, collected and deadly, remember? ​I reach inside my rucksack and crack open a beer with a satisfying fizz. ​I throw my head back and drink the entire thing in one go. I suppress a belch and contemplate my next move. I had planned to go through the front door assuming it would be left open, but I don't know what I'll do if they've locked it. Break a window, I guess.

I jog towards the house, wincing at the rhythmic pounding of my rucksack against my bruised back. I skid to a halt outside the door. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I fear that I might pass out. ​Don't you dare, we've got too much riding on this, you bastard. Pull yourself together.

"Right. Come on." I compose myself. I reach inside my trouser leg and retrieve the large kitchen knife without cutting myself in the process. I clutch it in my right fist, feeling the thrill and excitement banish the anxiety. This is it. No going back.

I grasp the door handle and push.

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