Pink is the Color of Revenge

My heart races as I glide through the halls. I can feel someone watching me, but I don't care. I know that if I can escape, I can find Mr. Elite and tell him that I have new information concerning the lost member. Heavy footsteps thud behind me. I jump as I realize I am trapped in a dead end at the end of the hall. I squint at the approaching character, my brain working up a frenzy. I was calculating every movement, every possible opportunity there was for escape. Slowly, the silhouette stepped into the light. Malachi.

"Oh, it's you," I breathe a sigh of relief. Malachi stays stone cold, his beady gray eyes boring into the side of my head. I hold my breath as I wait for an answer. I shift a little to my right, and catch his eye. He's afraid. I slide towards him cautiously, one hand on my dagger hidden in the contents of my cloak. I creep towards Malachi's back and muffle my scream. A gash the size of a dragon egg was etched into his skin, the edges bleeding with pus and a foreign purple liquid. The smell is atrocious, even from my angle and have to keep myself from gagging. Shivers quake up the sides of the mark and I am caught in another whiff of the horrid stench. It's almost too much for me to bear. I run in the opposite direction, bile clogged in my throat. I swivel around and see that Malachi is no longer in my presence. Calling out, I find that it appears that there was no one there in the first place. I sprint to the door and rush out, carefully following the directions Mr. Elite gave me. I was running out of time.