racing hearts (Davey)

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"Last question for the day. Which war did the Rough Riders take part in?" the professor's voice rang out, eyeing his students. He always liked to conduct a game right before a big test. He had five teams playing against each other, and they couldn't look at the study guides, either.

Michaela could feel the eyes on her. She had been supplying her team with the answers. She closed her eyes, her thumb on the buzzer, and when it came to her, she pressed it. "The Spanish-American War." She answered the question before opening her eyes. The professor grinned and gave their team the winning point. As the class ended, she heard a voice. "Nice job, Michaela"

Michaela smiled at Wendell. "Aw, thank you. My daughter helped me memorize the study guide."

Wow, that's awesome. Hey, listen, I'm having a party at my dorm this weekend, and you're more than welcome to come"

Michaela bit her lip. Wow, the guy really didn't take hints, did he? She had mentioned her kid for a reason. With a sigh, Michaela looked to the left, trying to think of a way to let him down easily. "I wish I could, but I have so much to do this weekend. Sorry!" She waved him goodbye and left the room, heading for her next class. But she never made it that far.

She had gone behind the science buildings and into the agriculture department. She smiled at the goats and cows as she walked past their pens and gated off pasture. She didn't know that she wasn't alone in the deserted area of the school. After all, the only farming classes were on the weekends. She was too preoccupied with feeding her favorite goat, who she called Elsie. Next thing she knew, she felt a stinging pain in the back of her head and then she was waking up.

One quick blow to the head. That was all it took. She was then dragged to a car that was parked in the agriculture department parking lot and drove away without being seen. She was driven into the woods and taken back to the shed where Jack kept all of his victims. She was tied up and he waited for her to wake up.

When she finally came to, she saw only a man with a mask on. He talked to her in a very creepy fashion. When he started prodding her with needles, she winced and begged for him to stop. She was slapped with something...not a hand....Michaela couldn't remember what. And she was burned behind her ear. That was all he really did before he decided he had to leave. He pumped her with an anastehetic, left the needles in her stomach, and left

That was three days ago. Michaela's eyes fluttered open, trying to remember what was going on. Her head pounded, and when she tried to lift her hand to touch it, she realized that she couldn't. She was tied down. Michaela looked around and suddenly remembered. Her eyes shifted, searching for the man, but he was gone. "Help!" she yelled, but to no avail. She looked down at her wrist and bit her lip. Slowly, she wriggled a finger out from under the rope. She pushed on the rope while pulling the next finger out, and the next. She soon had all five fingers out. She then managed to grip the end of it with her thumb and index finger and pulled it loose. With that hand out, she reached over and untied her other hand, and then sat up to untie her ankles. Her eyes gaped open at the needles in her stomach. Biting the rope, she quickly pulled them out. They had only been under the first layer of skin, so it was very similar to pulling twenty tacks out of her stomach. With that out of the way, she freed herself and jumped up.

Where were her clothes? She searched the shed and finally found a pair of men's jeans amd a polo shirt. She put them on quickly and rushed to the door. It was padlocked from the outside, and wouldn't budge. Michaela looked around and spotted a hatchet. Gripping the handle, she axed her way out of there. She looked around once outside. It was mid-day, that was for sure. Michaela didn't really know where she was, though. When she heard a twig snap, she ran. Her heart and mind was racing. She had no shoes on, but it didn't bother her. She spotted a glimpse of a park and gunned it even faster. Once in the actual park, she stopped to catch her breath, when she heard movement coming towards her. With a whimper, she covered her head and ducked behind a tree

[Davey Callaghan]

Davey loved clubs; he loved noise, dancing, and the sounds of life loud and riotous pounding in his ear drums. But, it wasn't everything that defined the peroxide blonde man. In fact, it was only half of what he enjoyed, and there was silence in life too. As many partners as he had, and as many people as he surrounded himself with, it was almost funny to think that he was ever alone. Everyone needed a little time dedicated to themselves. And to be frank, Davey had a thing for parks. They were quiet, but still lively. He could occasionally pass a stranger, catch the sounds of dogs playing or birds fluttering in the trees. It sounded almost poetic when he thought of it like that and anyone that knew Davey knew he lacked a certain amount of poetry. He was a little too loud and messy. The chaos that surrounded him didn't have rhythm or verse. Of course, poetry didn't have to have that.

A noise startled Davey and he paused mid-step. It might have been a little piece of nature in the midst of a roaring city, but there were still people and he wasn't necessarily trustworthy of everyone that came close. When he caught a glimpse of someone ducking behind a tree, however, he blinked and slowly started to walk closer. His curiosity got the best of him and he knew it was silly to approach anything he was unsure of. Didn't curiosity kill the cat? Well, Davey hadn't died just yet, and if he was said cat then he had nine lives to use up. "Hello?" He called out, slowly approaching the tree. "Are you all right?" He was trying not to startle them and at the same time trying not to be too bold about rushing forward. If it was someone dangerous he really didn't want to end up being knifed in the middle of a Toronto park.

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Michaela heard the voice and blinked. She looked down and bit her lip. Clenching her fist in case she needed to take a swing at the man, she turned and peered out from behind it. Her eyes were terrified and ready to cry. She didn't cry, though. Instead, she pushed her blond curls behind her ear and swallowed before speaking.

"C-can you help me?" she didn't mean to sound as shaky as she did. But she was scared. True, she hadn't been murdered. But she had been burned and her stomach had been pierced with dozens of needles. She moved a couple steps closer, her bare feet resting against the cool grass. She felt weak but ignored it. As she fixed her gaze on the blond man, she hugged herself and stepped even closer. "Please?"