“What’re You Doing Here?” I Mumble Over My Shoulder. Although I’m Not Looking, I Know Without

Hanna looked at her watch. Usually he was here by now.

The people she had trapped and tied up whimpered, pleading. She ignored them, scanning the rooftops for any sign of Kyle.

After a whole half hour had passed with no sign of him, she sighed and released the captives with barely any marks on them, not even hearing their cries of thanks as they ran.

Hanna set off, slipping through shadows and alleys as she made her way to Kyle's apartment. He lived only a few blocks from the community college, am easy landmark to remember. To top that off, his front door was bright red.

She settled into a shadow behind the dumpster nearby and waited, watching for any sign of him.

The shadows grew longer. Hanna's eyelids drooped and she slid down against the wall, yawning. A few minutes later, she sat bolt upright, her sensitive hearing picking up a quiet sound coming closer.

She peered around the dumpster, her eyes widening as she saw Kyle limping toward his door. There was dried blood everywhere, a few places still bleeding. The weirdest part...

It hadn't been Hanna.

If it wasn't Hanna who had attacked Kyle, who had?

Hanna snapped out of her thoughts as Kyle struggled to unlock his door. He dropped the keys as he swayed, reaching out to steady himself on the doorframe.

The villian hesitated. On one hand, he was her enemy. On the other hand, they enjoyed the time fighting so much that they were practically friends (in the loosest sense of the word, of course). Mostly, there was something that didn't add up about Kyle's injuries, and Hanna wanted to figure it out.

She stepped forward.

Kyle noticed the movement and sighed as he turned, mumbling, "Someone beat you to it today. Sorry."

Hanna ignored him, stepping closer and picking up his keys, unlocking the door for him. She turned just in time to watch him crumple to the ground.

She took Kyle inside and laid him on the floor, hunting around for a first aid kit. Hanna pulled off his shirt and froze.

Kyle stirred. When his eyes opened a Crack and he observed the scene, he quipped, "What? I'm amazingly ripped and flawless?"

Hanna's face was positively white as she started cleaning and bandaging some of his wounds.

Kyle's face was concerned as he watched her. "What? I think I'll live, most of this is superficial."

"I know who attacked you." Hanna's voice was barely above a whisper.

He waited, holding his breath.

Hanna pointed to a small symbol burned into Kyle's shoulder.

"That's my father's mark."

You are a Villain who has always had The Hero to stop you. At first, it was a true rivalry, soon it became a bit more like cat and mouse, you even found yourself enjoying it. One day, The Hero isn't showing up to stop you.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. I can go all day."

"No. I can do it myself."

*wince* "Well, not so much."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not giving it to you."

*shrug* "Fine." *nods at Character C*

*Character A turns in time to see Character C hit them hit something heavy, knocking them out*

*Character B takes the object from Character A* "Sorry. It's for your own good, you know."

Writing Prompt #2880

"Stop trying to help me. I can do this myself."

"Quite frankly? You can't. You're one mistake from having a nervous breakdown or hurting yourself because you can't think clearly. Now, swallow your pride, and give that to me."

“Today has been pretty good. Not many visitors. I started a new book about-” My voice cuts off abruptly as I stare at her. “You…you just wasted your question. Why would you do that?”

She smiles gently. “I didn’t need it.”

“But…” I am lost. Confused. “Why?”

“Because,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my arm. “I thought you could use a friend. So could I. What’s your book about?”

Numbly, I start explaining the intricacies of my book, offering her some refreshments.

And that is how the strangest friendship I’ve ever had began.

You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you’re sure you’ve heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, “How are you doing?”

Why do you do it?

The little voice in her head never left her alone.

Why do you torture yourself over and over again?

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, trying to drown out the noise.

You don’t have to suffer like this. Just walk away.

“No!” she shouted into her empty house. She curled into a ball on the floor, whimpering.

They wouldn’t care. They barely notice you anymore. It’s been almost two hundred years, Emmeline. Give up already.

She burst into tears, sobbing on her living room floor. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, only that the shadows had moved a great deal when she finally sat up and wiped her tears.

Emmeline stood, hearing a knock on the door. When she went to answer it, she looked down and saw Jules, the youngest child of the current generation. He grinned up at her with the toothlessness of a six year old.

“My mama let’th me come all by mythelf now!” he exclaimed proudly. He flung his little arms around Emmeline and gave her a tight hug. “I mithed you, Aunt Emma!” 

She knelt and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Jules. What are you doing here?”

Jules pulled away and looked at her gravely. “It’th a thecwet,” he said, trying very hard to not spoil the surprise. He only lasted a minute before he blurted, “You have a biwthday pawty tonight!”

Emmeline looked surprised. “A birthday party? For me?”

He nodded eagerly. “That’th why you got to come ovew to my houthe tonight!”

Emeline was stunned as she handed Jules a cookie and then sent him back home. She sat at the table and tried not to cry again, this time with happiness. They weren’t forgetting her after all.

She looked over at the lone picture on her mantle and smiled at the young family in the picture. In the months after taking the photo, she had hidden it away, not liking it. She was blinking, her husband was looking at her instead of the camera, and her son was trying to walk away, held in place by only her arm. She had brought the photo back out the day after her husband died, needing to see his face again. They never had a chance to take another.

Emmeline grew to love the photo over the years, especially as her son grew and had children, and then they had children, and so on.

Jules looked so much like her son.

She wished they could have met.

You don’t have to suffer. Just walk away.

“No,” Emmeline said softly, hugging the picture. “This is my home. This is my family.

“I will protect them.”

Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.

The first few times, I didn’t understand why everything felt so familiar. I would wake up at 16 with nothing but vague dreams from every time before. My room sometimes looked different than I thought it should. Eventually, I started to keep a diary. Strangely, it always stuck around when the clock reset. 

That was how I figured out the timeline. 30 whole years. I lived from 16 to 35, and on the morning of my 46th birthday, I would wake up at 16 again. 

Once I realized what was happening, I tried to make the best of it. I lived each time out differently, reading about everything I had done before in my diary.

One time, I married my best friend. The next, I married someone I met in college. A few times, I didn’t get married, once I didn’t go to college.

I had four kids after I graduated, then one kid during college, then no kids at all.

Once, I had a kid before I was even out of high school. 

Saved my father’s life, didn’t get there in time.

Got arrested (only made that mistake once), became a bad influence, became a good one.

Got an office job, worked as a police officer, tried my hand at acting, singing, dancing, tried graphic design.

Made friends, lost friends, made more.

I made plenty of mistakes, especially in the beginning. But then, doesn’t everyone? Some of them I made over and over again, but some mistakes you only make once.

I never figured out what was causing me to reset my life. 

But I didn’t really care.

See, most people only get one life, no matter how long or short it is.

My life may have only been 30 years, but I got to do it over and over again, however I wanted.

In my opinion, that’s a gift.

I love my life.

You are caught in a time loop but instead of resetting you daily, it resets you every 30 years

Katie flung the door open and ushered the young king inside quickly, apologizing profusely.

King Dominick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m inside now. Thank you.”

Katie stared for a moment as he took off his coat and hat and hung them by the door. 

“Uh, what can I do for you, Your Highness?” she asked awkwardly, gesturing for him to sit down.

The king sighed. “Truthfully, I just need a place to wait out the storm until some of my men can find me. Stupid storm came out of nowhere and my horse…couldn’t make it through. Stepped in a hole.”

Katie winced. “Is he…still out there?” 

King Dominick shrugged. “Couldn’t let him suffer out there for who knows how long.”

The wind howled outside, startling them both. Katie walked over the window and looked out. 

She turned back to the king slowly. “I hate to have to tell you this, Your Highness, but you might be stuck here longer than you thought. Snow storms especially are pretty bad here in the valley. Could last for a few days. And if no one knows where you are…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

He sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “Call me Dominick. If I’m going to be here for a while, we might as well dispense with the formalities. And your name is?”

“Katie,” she mumbled, slightly shocked. She shook herself out of her stupor and rushed into the kitchen, bringing back a bowl of soup for each of them. 

“Glad I made extra,” she joked with a half-smile.

They didn’t speak as they picked at their food. Neither of them said much as Katie showed Dominick to her guest room for the night.

They weren’t sure how it happened. One day, they were barely speaking, their relationship strained from proximity and difference in social class. Then the next day, they were laughing together like old friends.

It took two days for the snow to stop. Another two days for it to melt enough to travel. By then, Dominick was all too happy to wait for someone to find him, praying they would take their time.

Almost a week after the snow melted, the dreaded moment finally came with a pound on the front door of Katie’s cottage.

The two looked at each other, their eyes wide with a mixture of relief, fear, and sadness. 

Katie slowly rose and trudged over to open the door without a word, reverting back to the beginning when they barely spoke.

Dominick lunged and grabbed Katie’s wrist. “Wait,” he said desperately.

She looked at him, taking a deep breath and redrawing the lines they had slowly torn down. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Dominick winced. “Wait,” he said again.

The pounding on the door resumed, startling them.

Katie moved toward the door again. “We’re out of time. You need to go back to your life and I need to go back to mine.” She gently pulled her hand away, turning so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Dominick reached for her again, but Katie pulled the door open, and the guards on the other side erupted in cheers.

They were all so busy thanking Katie and bundling Dominick onto a horse, that every guard missed the look Dominick was giving her.

Katie ignored the burning in her eyes as she watched them ride away.

A week later, a letter arrived for Katie. She burned it. For the next several months, letters kept arriving, sometimes, days apart, sometimes a week, but all from Dominick.

Katie burned every single one.

"who's this?" "it's the fucking king of England, that's who it is. Now open up, I'm drenched and I'm cold" answered a voice from the outside. "really funny sir. And original, I haven't heard this one since… Oh I'm sorry your highness"

Jane sighed. “Fine.”

Andy frowned. “Huh. I thought you would put up more of a fight.”

“Well,” she shrugged. “I know you. For you, that was as close to an apology as you’ll probably ever get.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong.

“And,” she added, throwing him a small smile. “I forgive you.”

Writing Prompt #2862

"Don't you have something to say?"

"Well, I don't like to apologize, so no, not really. I feel like we can comfortably just move forward from here."

The little girl watched as the kind man held her brother. 

A single tear ran down his cheek, and she felt one on her own face.

Even the kind man was crying.

The little girl looked out the window of his shop and surveyed the scene. The blood, the cars, the flashing lights of cop cars, ambulances, and firetrucks alike. 

Behind her, her brother sobbed, “I’m sorry, Ella.”

Ella cried into her hands silently, wishing she could make a sound, touch him. She felt a tug, deep inside her, but she fought it.

A paramedic was tending to her brother, wrapping his wounds and scolding him for putting himself in danger.

“Ella was in trouble,” he said stubbornly.

The kind man held his good hand. “Is the girl going to be okay?”

The paramedic stayed quiet.

Ella ignored the tugging, sobbing silently, screaming into the soundless void.

He spoke again. “Did they catch the man who hit her?”

Ella watched as the paramedic shook his head slowly, and her brother screamed in anger. 

More people came in and out of the shop. Police officers wanting to question her brother and the kind man, medics checking on him, and finally, their parents made it through the backed up traffic and yellow tape, bursting in to hug their son tearfully.

“It wasn’t your fault,” they whispered over and over again.

Ella agreed with them, trying to join their hug.

This time she couldn’t fight the tugging. She was pulled away from her family.

Forever.

Writing Prompt #2822

"Kid, sit down." The man held a hand on the injured teen's shoulder. "You almost died twenty minutes ago. Take a breath."

"But someone has to go out there and save her! It's my fault she—"

"It's nobody's damn fault but the bastard who did this. You're not responsible for everyone else. The sooner you learn that, the better."

Lilith watched gleefully. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. The stupid hero who had been tormenting Lilith's band of mercenaries and assassins. Amelia was finally under her control, and she could do whatever she wanted to her.

Of course, she wouldn't actually do it herself. That was beneath her. Instead, she watched as her second in command, Carson, tortured the annoying girl.

Lilith laughed as Amelia screamed. When she plead for mercy, and Carson looked to Lilith, she just shook her head. When Amelia passed out, Lilith motioned for people to revive her. When the sun crept lower on the horizon, making the clearing dark, Lilith finally sighed and allowed several people to lock Amelia up for the night.

They would resume in the morning.

... ... ... ... ...

Amelia couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She could have kicked herself as she was dragged into the camp, except for the fact that her feet were bound tightly together.

She looked away when she saw Carson's face. The horror was well hidden behind his eyes, but they both knew what would come next. They both knew that they couldn't blow his cover. Which meant, they both knew it had to be done well.

And he did. For hours, Amelia was chained to a tree while Carson - her Carson - tortured her. She couldn't look at him while he yelled at her. She bit her lip when he whipped her. She looked away when she screamed as he cut into her.

She met his eyes only once. She lifted her head groggily when she heard Lilith shouting something. Carson hit her again at Lilith's urging, and Amelia moaned in pain. Carson flinched, but thankfully, his back was to Lilith and Amelia was the only one to see. She looked at him, meeting his eyes and giving an almost imperceptible nod.

When he hit her again, she finally fell limp, blackness claiming her.

... ... ... ... ...

Carson hated himself. When they dragged Amelia into the camp, bruised and bloodied, he had thought she was dead. When she moved and saw him, they both knew the moment when they realized it would have been better if she had been.

Carson floated through the day in a daze. He retreated into himself while he hurt Amelia, the one thing he had sworn to never do. The only time he snapped free and realized what he was doing was when she let out a moan. They had looked at each other, and he had known that he had to keep going.

He had to get her out. When most of the camp was asleep, he sneaked into the tent where Amelia was kept and cut her loose.

Carson shook her desperately until she stirred. He handed her his knife and spirited her away to the edge of the forest. She was barely awake, but she managed to rasp out, "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. They won't know."

They both knew that wasn't true. Amelia resisted, but finally Carson convinced her to leave him, agreeing that it was time to pull him out.

... ... ... ... ...

A week later, Amelia arrived back at camp with a team to extract Carson, only to find out that he was gone.

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well