Chasing Men

(written in 2021)

I hold out my knife directly in front of me as I slowly walk towards the loud panting coming from around the corner. I walk through the West Underground corridors every second day. I check for Strays; however, I don’t know what they look like. It is what I am trained for.

Is it actually one this time?

Or am I dreaming again?

I bite down on my bottom lip until I can feel the pain surge through me.

Definitely not a dream.

Steadying my shaking arm out in front of me, I pounce around the corner. I’ve had these tunnels memorised since I was four. I knew it was a dead-end; and whoever was there was not getting away. I find myself pointing my knife down at a huddled-up figure in the corner. They slowly look up at me and I take notice of the hair growing on their face. I had never seen this before. I should just slit their throat right now. All evidence points towards being a male. But a part of me is curious. I looked into the Stray’s eyes. I grab them by the scruff and press my knife into the front of their neck.

I am finally going to kill one.

I am going to kill.

I can’t.

‘What are you?’ I demand, mustering up as much confidence in my voice as I possibly can. I hope that it is just a runaway female.

The creature looks into my eyes. I see it now; the facial hair, the broad shoulders and chiseled jawline, all characteristics that I have been shown identify a male. He smirks at me, like he can tell that he should already be bleeding out on the floor.

‘I’m Chase. But what are you?’ he smirks at me. His eyes sparkle.

‘I’m a woman. And it is said by law that I must kill you now, male.’ I say trying to sound harsh, only for my voice to come out like a shaky whisper.

His disposition intrigues me. How can he be so confident at a time like this? I rule over him, I have the power. I literally have a knife. Suddenly I feel very aware how close I am holding him to my face, and I drop him out of my grasp. I try to hold the knife out at him, but my hand shakes. He notices.

‘So, kill me, I’m ready,’ he grunts. He stands up slowly.

My eyes follow him while he starts to grow into the tallest male – actually anything – I had ever seen. He holds his hands up in a surrender position; he smiles. He is not sincere. I can tell he is mocking me. I thought all the males were to be compliant.

I have the power.

My eyebrows furrow, and I catch his eyes watching me. I must stay calm and not show him how much I really don’t want to be here.

I am in charge.

‘Kneel down,’ I say with a sturdy voice.

I firmly kick my foot into his shin. I can feel the strong muscle of his leg against my boot. Are they all this strong? Kicking has never hurt like this. He falls to his knees. I should just pull this knife against his throat and watch him bleed out. I would be praised for doing a good job. I might even be able to rank up and get some extra graduation points. He looks up at me. Once again, I find myself intrigued by his facial hair. It is so prickly and unkept. Mustn’t it be so uncomfortable? The texture did not match the hair growing on his head. The colour did though, brown coarse hair seemed to emerge almost everywhere. It was such an unusual place for hair to grow. What was the purpose of such a thing? He notices me staring, and he brushes his hands through his sweaty, greasy hair, as if to get it out of his way.

‘What is it that you want to know?’ Chase asks and this is the first time I realise, truly, what state he is in.

Just like his hair; his clothes are also drenched in sweat. His white shirt, which now looks more like a disgusting brown and cream mix, had been ripped, as if once it had full length sleeves. His pants were fitted, but not to him, they weren’t long enough and stopped halfway down his shins. The waist of his pants looked like they had been tampered with and stretched to fit.

Say something! Be assertive. What am I doing?

I just need to kill him. It is just a Stray.

They deserve to die. He deserves to die.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask moving my knife closer to the middle of his eyes, to scare him.

Chase looks up at me still smiling and just shrugs his shoulders, like I’m supposed to understand what he’s saying.

‘I guess you could say I slept in and now I’m a bit behind on my usual schedule. So, you caught me today. Congratulations,’ He states with a sarcastic tone.

The last word was insulting.

‘Where did you come from?’ I give my knife a quick jab towards him, to scare him.

He didn’t even flinch. He looks as if he is curious about me too.

Why is he not scared? I’m getting humiliated. He knows I am a woman.

He knows what the law is.  

‘I leave and enter this way. You don’t think I know what your schedule is by now?’ Chase mocks.

‘Leave and enter? Where do you go?’ I give a quick glance around me as if I’m going to find where he escapes from.

‘If I keep giving you answers, I think we might have to come up with a deal that somehow gets you to not kill me?’ He then nods towards my knife that I’m still pointing at his head.

‘Unlikely.’ I slash at his arm, cutting his side, just enough to bleed.

Before I could get my knife back to its position in front of his head, Chase reaches behind his back and pulls out his own knife. He lurches forward, in an attempt to slice my throat. As he reaches at me, my whole body is cast cold by his enormous shadow. How could a creature be so big? I must not be intimidated. I catch my thoughts and duck just in time. He stands up and kicks me in the left side. Upon impact, all the air seems to have escaped out of my body. I can’t breathe. I am flung to the left side of the room. My body comes in contact with the wall. My ears fill with a gruesome crackling sound. As I hit the ground, my knife slips from my hold. I go to grab for it but freeze as I feel a cold metal against my throat. I know Chase’s knife is there. It is iron, sharpened today. Probably around 3 inches bigger than mine. There is no way I’m winning this knife fight. He pulls me toward him. I can feel the hot moisture of his breath as he leans near my ear.

‘You really think I come through here without some sort of weapon?’

I can feel the closeness of his mouth to the skin on my neck. The gentle breeze as he slowly breathes in and out.

Wow.

I must have hit my head really hard.

How dare he.

But how is he so strong? Why didn’t I kill him when I could have?

I feel my body going into shock. I’ve spent years learning the symptoms. We were told the rarity of this occurring. Does this really have to happen right now? I need to get out of my head and focus on him. But everything is happening so fast I can’t keep up. Chase looks into my eyes. He may be strong, but he is so easy to read. I see it now.

He can’t kill me either.

He grabs my collar harder in his fist and lifts me even closer to his face. I squint my eyes, hoping that whatever happens, happens fast. For a second I feel him relax, like he is breathing in all the oxygen in the universe at once. He has never killed anyone either. My eyes open, and I see the green reflection of his iris.

Huh. Green eyes. How rare.

His grip suddenly loosens, and my body crashes down fast to the ground. I fumble my hands around on the cold, wet concrete floor. I feel the familiar touch of my knife. I move fast and slow all at the same time. I have to be precise in my moves. He may not have been able to kill me, but he isn’t getting away with that. I quickly bend over, picking it up swiftly. I grip it so tight I feel the wood of the handle imprinting on my palms. My knuckles turn white, as my grip tightens. I stare at him. His eyes match mine.

‘Okay, so why didn’t you kill me?’ he asks casually, like he didn’t just have his knife sitting suggestively on my throat.

Suddenly the walls feel closer than before. My chest feels like it is being sat on. The heat rises up under my skin, as I begin to slowly boil red.

Why can he just talk to me like that, like I’m his equal? Why is he even talking to me at all?

‘I can see you’re conflicted. Do you think we could just have a conversation about things?’ Chase still holds that arrogant smirk to the bottom of his face.

He is so calm, so casual. He needs to stop. I want to punch him. I want to slap him across the face to remove that stupid smirk. Now is my time. I lunge for him, throwing all my weight and anger towards him. He is too fast; too quick. Almost gracefully, he stands to the side, as if to let me pass.

How does he keep managing to make a fool of me?

‘Make a deal? You don’t tell your people that you’ve seen me, and I won’t tell my people that I’ve seen you, how about we start there?’ Chase holds out his hand.

I shake his hand before I realise what I’m even doing. His hand is big; strong. I feel the warmth of his hand against mine. It feels nice, but a better version of nice. It feels as if I’m being hugged, if all the comfort in the world was wrapping around me. I feel safe.

No.

I don’t.

He takes his hand away first, much sooner than I had wished. He gives me a mocking salute as he runs off past me to wherever he is going. I try to suppress the heat rising in my cheeks, and hope that he doesn’t notice. His feet slap the floor in the distance, thundering the corridors.

‘You’ll be dead if I ever see you again,’ I echo down the chamber.

‘We’ll see about that, killer.’ His cold deep voice echoes all around me, and I stand there until I can hear it no longer.