Trust | 2 |

Chapter Twenty-Four

My right leg dragged on the ground, blood slowly dripping down it and leaving a trail on the floor. On the walls, my right hand left bloody handprints as I tried to stop myself from falling over with how fast I was walking. My gut stung and blood was rushing out of it. Everything ached and I felt dizzy.

There was a piece of wood sticking through my right calf. I don't remember when that happened. Glass shards were also sticking in my hair and even in the side of my face. I don't really remember that part either. I had a vague memory of getting slashed with a large shard of glass. To be honest, I don't remember much of what went down. All I know now is that they were dead in that apartment.

I had a gun in the waistband of my jeans. An idiotic agent had let me grab his handgun and keep it. Now I had it. I had no particular use in mind, but one could never know what they might need.

People sitting in the hallway and going up the stairs gave me terrified looks. None of them dared speak to me though- I must've looked like a wild animal with my wide eyes and bloodied body. I'm glad they didn't speak to me because I don't know how I would react.

My bags were also awkwardly slung over my right shoulder- my left arm got awkwardly broken so I couldn't really use it. You would think that after years of having a metal arm, I'd know how to maintenance it. Well, I didn't. The bags would smack into the injured part of my leg every now and then, causing me to groan in pain.

On the first floor, I basically body slammed the door open, scaring some of the druggies sitting around on the floor. Like the other people, they stared at me with horrified expressions. One girl- no older than eighteen- was brave enough to approach me.

"Hey, dude, are you okay?" she asked. She tried to reach out to me, probably so I could lean on her, but I jumped away and kept going. "Hey! You need an ambulance!" she yelled after me. I didn't give her a response and just fell into the front doors and stumbled onto the sidewalk. There was nothing nearby. I had to go into a more public area if I was going to get a taxi and get to Doctor Strange's hospital.

That was the destination. In reality, that was my ultimate destination anyway, I just had to cut out the middle step.

So my crime scene was continued on down past a few more buildings onto the more populated city blocks. People steered clear of me, giving me looks of disgust as I passed. There wasn't a single care in the world. When I got to the big crowds, they moved away from me as if I were in a bubble that pushed them away. Well, I guess my bubble was my bloody appearance.

I wanted to drop to the ground and lose consciousness so bad, but my stubbornness pushed me to keep going to the street.

"Ma'am, do you need me to call 911?" I spun around to see another teenager, a boy this time, looking at me worried with his phone out. The other people around us looked scared- again- and kept their distance. I was so detached from reality that I didn't know what was going to happen. I felt so lost and scared.

It was at this moment that I stopped to think about what was going on. I was bleeding out on a New York City sidewalk with nowhere to go except a hospital where I'd more than likely get turned over to the authorities- no, to Ross himself. Nobody would know that I went back there. Wanda wouldn't be able to get me out, same with Sam or any of the others. I'd fry away in the Rift without a single hope of seeing safety or freedom ever again.

When the man started to reach out to me, I snapped back to reality and jumped away. "Don't touch me!" I nearly screamed. My broken left arm swung awkwardly at my side, and I clutched my bags to my chest with my right arm. "Get away from me!" That time I did scream, but it wasn't in anger- it was in terror. I was scared shitless and I didn't know what to do about it.