Also sometimes I re-read the previous chapters and die a little on the inside, especially seeing as Myrnin is the only character I can actually write in first person?

/AU because of reasons/

I don't want you to go.

Myrnin's POV

"Oh, shit!" I shouted, rushing over to the canister as the gas inside as it bubbled over the sides.

Too late, I realised, as the blend changed from a clear substance to a milky white... gloop. Sighing, I threw it across the room, barely caring as it missed the sink and splattered all over the world.

Claire hadn't come in today. Really, she didn't have to come in anymore and I didn't have to pay her when she did, but we both did so anyway. And I was hoping- well, I say hoping, I mean urgently praying- that things wouldn't become awkward between the two of us.

Existing without Claire romantically I could deal with, just about.

Without her at all? I don't know if I could do it.

Back to Claire yo

Gasping, Claire regained consciousness, shaking as if she'd been submerged under water. Friction at her wrists and ankles told her she was tied up, the wooden chair causing her back to ache, and the swinging light bulb above her casted shadows so thick that she couldn't see more than a foot around her in any direction.

To be fair, Claire thought, what she could see did resemble a dodgy 80's horror movie. All they needed now was a mythical creature to walk in wearing a cape- and here he was.

Oliver strutted in (missing the cape, sadly, although Claire suspected that the elaborate clothing was more Myrnin's forte) carrying a small wooden box in his hands. He avoided eye contact with her, instead walking behind her, placing the box down with a loud-in-the-silence thud, and tugging the rope around her wrists tighter. Waiting, Claire wondered exactly what was going on, because of there had ever been a time for Oliver to kidnap her, it wasn't now. He had what he wanted- the Town, the control, Amelie- and there was nothing she could do to take that away from him.

Was there?

"You should proberly stay still," Oliver drawled, the faint British suspiciously empty of any inflection or cadence. "You'll just hurt yourself over wise."

Ok, now Claire knew something was off- there was nothing even remotely pleased in his demeanour about the probability of her shedding blood.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Claire shouted, trying (and failing miserably) to pull herself out of Oliver's grip.

Ignoring her, Oliver let go of her wrists, causing her to almost topple forwards and on to her face. Craning her neck around, Claire still couldn't see what he was doing so she listened instead; a small clicking noise, a rustling. The clicking noise sounded again, reminding her of a clock, or a countdown, before Oliver appeared before her again, holding a small needle inbetween his thumb and forefinger.

Straining away from him, Claire could barely make out his words, focused more on the tip of the needle pushing through the thin skin on her neck.

"I would say I'm sorry for this, but the truth is that I'm really not."

And then, for the second time since she'd woken up after the incident, it all went black.

Sorry that it's taken so long again! For some reason, I've been struggling to sit down and actually write for the past month or so- I have loads of ideas running around in my head, but typing them out isn't going down so well...?

This is a disgustingly short chapter too. I don't think I've submitted a chapter this short since I first joined FF. Oopsie.

Review or my cat will pee on everything you love

Chloe xxx