Menace | Dylan O'Brien

1

"Run." Was all I heard before I started running towards the woods. Loud gun shots, people yelling and cars starting behind me as I ran as fast I can to the tall trees. "H keep running and don't look back. I'll find you." I heard Dylan shout back towards me.

I had a gunshot wound right on top of my shoulder and warm blood was running down my arm which is causing me to feel dizzy.

I don't even know how I got here or why I was even in the middle of this chaos. My life was so perfect until last month and this is the most shit that ever happened to me in my 20 years alive. What the hell.

I finally reached the woods and put my back to one of the trees. I needed a break. My feet are killing me and my head is pounding. I feel like if I would've kept going, I would've passed out while running and hit my head. Then I'll really be fucked.

I don't even know where I'm at or where I'm going. I don't even know if I should keep going or wait for Dylan. How the fuck is he going to find me in this?

A big bang goes off causing my ears to ring and I quickly covered my ears. A fucking bomb! All this shit for one person? Who the hell is this guy!

For a whole month straight I been running away from guys trying to kill us. Just two days ago I was kidnapped by these men trying to kill Dylan and I don't even know his last name.

You'll be surprised on how we met. You would think this is a fucking movie, the way all this shit unfolded.

Of course the day I decide to take a night walk, I run into this boy and now we running for our lives.

A small twig broke and then I heard foot steps getting closer to the tree I was resting at. I pulled myself closer to the tree and listened carefully. "H." A voice in a panic yelled quietly. How can you even do that?

I placed my hands on the tree to balance myself to look over and see Dylan walking low towards me. I step out from hiding and Dylan's face looked relieved once his eyes locked with mine.

"Come here." He had his hand out so I could take it. I run towards him without hesitating. He's really the only reason I'm alive. And why you almost died too.

He doesn't say anything to me while we walked through the woods. He seems a little calm so I'm guessing he was the one who threw the bomb earlier. He still had the gun he was using earlier in his hand too. He had blood on him but I don't know if it's his or someone else's. I start to scan his body to see if I see broken fabric on his clothes but I don't see anything. I could hear him breathe and it was so heavy that I thought he might have asthma. But he looked fine so I'm guessing he been through this. I looked down towards our hands and his hands have bruises all over them and I saw this big cut which looked like he needed stitches.

"I told you to keep going." He stated out of nowhere. He was still looking straight ahead but I felt a gentle squeeze on my hand. "Sorry." Was all I could say.

This whole situation has me in shock. You would think after a month I'll be use to the running and getting shot at. But I couldn't, all the blood and cries. It was horrific.

We finally reached a worn out cabin, it had boarded up windows and the front of the cabin was boarded up like someone tried to fix the broken wood holding up the roof. It was a place someone would walk up to and walk away quickly because you don't want to know what happens or happened in there. Unless you in a movie, you go straight in. And that's exactly what we were doing.

"You knew this was here?" I asked making sure he doesn't just want to hide in someone else's cabin and then get murder. Sadly he didn't reply and kept walking. I know he not mad at me.

We walk up the half broken stairs to the platform and a little creek sound comes from one of the steps. Great. He ignores it and continue to find a way inside, I guess he didn't know about this.

The muscles on his arms pop out as he tries to pull boards away from the door. I watch as they relax and flex again when he pulls harder. Okay. Let me look away.

I walk towards the side of the cabin and saw one window that wasn't boarded up. "Dylan here." I pointed to the window as I watched him get closer to me to see what I was looking at. Once he was by my side, we heard somethings break. Great.

"It's an animal." He said placing his hand on my side and guided me to the window. I guess he saw my face experience and tried to calm me down by putting his hand on my waist.

He places the end of the gun towards the window and breaks the window. The force made the glass fly everywhere and leaves one nice cut on his arm. This man is going to bleed to death. He pushes some of the glass on the floor and makes more room so I could climb up. He takes my hand and helps me into the window. I place my left arm to help me balance when a sharp pain makes me fall down. I had forgot that I had been shot at. I feel so weak. In a few seconds my body was off the floor and I was being place on top of the windowsill. I used my fine arm to help me turn around and get inside the cabin.

The place was dark, only light from outside was shining in. I walked around while Dylan climbed through the window.

"Someone was living here." I stated once Dylan was inside. I pointed towards the 'kitchen' and a small table with a chair. "You think someone died here?" I said walking around the cabin, trying to see if we going to die here. Dylan laughs and places the gun down on the little table.

"You have a bullet in your shoulder and you worry if someone died here?" He said laughing and looking at me. This is rare. He only smiles when I ask a dumb question or if I'm acting funny. He usually serious about everything.. Maybe I could make him happy. This is not a fucking movie!

But I really did forgot about my shoulder again and I was just on it. I guess I'm still in shock with this whole thing. I wonder how he going to take care of it. I been bleeding this whole time and I'm surprised I wasn't feeling dizzy anymore.

Dylan moves the single chair near the small table and starts to look around the small room. I go take a seat on the chair and watch him look for something.

Alcohol, not the one that you use on cuts, the one you drink. "Oh no." Was all I could say.