Angel With A Shotgun | 18+

fifty two

AMARA CABOT

I felt extremely weak as I failed in attempt to lift my head.

I had no idea where the hell I was or how long I'd been here for. All I know is, I'd rather be dead!

My hands were tied behind my back, the rope was tied really tight and had cut off all circulations to my fingers. I was wiggling them but I couldn't feel it. 

My ears were ringing and my entire body felt like it had been dragged across a bed of nails.

It hurt to breath, and the place smelt like gasoline and sweat. 

It was a concrete room with thick walls and single white LED light hanging from the ceiling.

My jeans were scraped up and I could see my bleeding legs through the dark fabric and if I looked down, I could see the blood soaked grey shirt that clung to my body, the cold liquid now drying.

I don't remember how I got these injuries because I kept passing out whenever someone would hit me. I don't remember their faces or their voices. All I remember is seeing and hearing is my own screams drowning out anything else.

I whimpered, my lip quivering as I brought my sore knees to my chest, shaking myself asleep as the aching began to dull.

But my sleep didn't last long because I heard a faint crash in the distance.

This time I did lift my head but I saw nothing. My neck had a kink in it and my vision was blurry from the multiple bruises on my face. 

"Hello?" I croaked out, my voice raw, "Who's there?" I shouted, hearing my voice echo in my own ears, "Please? Anyone?" 

There was no response. And I let myself cry.

I flinched when the large iron door creaked open and an item was chucked inside. I peeked an eye open after realising it wasn't a bomb.

A tape recorder? What the hell?

I leaned forward, using my foot to bring it closer to me. 

The small circular tapes were still moving and I tried to press it with my knee but nothing was working, why the hell would they give this to me? 

I gave up, leaning my head against the post behind me. 

"If you're here to kill me can you just do it already." I said when I heard footsteps stop outside my room. Although when no one entered, I braced myself for the worst.

The handle turned and I backed up into the corner, squinting from the harsh light.

"Amara?" A familiar voice whispered. I looked to the voice and almost cried from happiness, "Marco!" I said. He placed a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I did as he said, watching him go behind me and felt the restraints loosen.

I rubbed my wrists, looking down at the tape recorder, "Are you okay?" He kneeled in front of me, bringing his hands up to my face. I nodded, fatigue taking over me, "I- I think so. I don't know where we are or why I'm here. Nobody has come in!" I began to cry, "It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here." He whispered, moving my hair out of my face before he gripped my arms and pulled me up.

"It's always you that has to get kidnapped isn't it?" He joked, "And it's always you that saves me."

I bend down to pick up the recorder, shoving it in my back pocket before following after Marco, gripping his hand as we sneak through crowded hallways.

"Is it just you?" I ask.

He nods, "The others at back at home."

"Wait, you're here alone?" I said, "Kind of."

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Shh." He quickly says and I zip my mouth shut, "I'll tell you everything soon. I promise." 

Finally, we had made it outside without any interruptions and I sighed a sigh of relief, almost laughing, "You saved me, again." I said, feeling light headed as I bring my arms out to hug Marco.

"I don't hug." He grimaces, "You do now." I tease, pulling him to me.

Suddenly, he yells and I don't hear anything over the sound of a gunshot. I'm throw to the side and roll twice before stopping, opening my eyes to see a man dressed in all black scurry away from a now lifeless Marco who is laying on the ground. 

"MARCO!" I scream, crawling over to him, feeling gravel embed itself into my palms, "Marco?" I sob, rolling his body on his back as I examine him, "Oh my God, please wake up. Please, Marco?"

I see no bullet hole and only when I pull my hands away do I realise there's blood, "Where did they shoot you?" I cried, feeling anxiety settle in my stomach.

It's pitch black outside now and Marco is still unconscious.

I slide my hands down his body, feeling his phone in his pocket as I reach for it, my shaking hands fumbling to turn on the flashlight. There is bloody prints all over his phone as I hold the light over his body, realising he was shot in the shoulder.

"Oh my God." I sobbed, pressing my forehead to his chest.

I don't know the password to his phone, "Shit, fuck."

I swipe for emergency number and dial 911. Gripping onto Marco's non injured hands, I swear I saw his eyes flutter open, "Yes, hello I need an ambulance."

When they asked for my address I realised I didn't know. 

I hung up, "Marco, what's your passcode?" I sob, my tears dropping onto his blood soaked shirt, "Marco?" I screamed, shaking him.

As if an angel was sent from above, the phone rang, I answered it straight away, "Marco, what the hell? You were supposed to let us know what was happening. We have the address-"

"I need help." I screamed down the phone, "A-Amara, oh my God you're okay?"

"Yes- No. No, I need help. Marco's been shot. I need- y-you to find me, now! I need you, please." I squeezed my eyes shut, my headache worsening as I hold Marco's cold body in my arms while the snow melts into our clothes.

"Please find me."  

+ + +

:( Did you see that coming??

Poor Marco, I love him! 

Xx