Broken Away

Empty Shell

The feeling of complete despair was overwhelming her, but Chase refused to be  caught. Being caught would mean three lives left the world for no reason. They left her. Those drugs would only torture her more. She couldn't risk returning to an even worse state than what she had escaped from. She couldn't show any emotion that did not resemble satisfaction.

It didn't work. Tears were flowing down her face. These tears dragged down the days of dirt and grime along with them. They continued flowing silently, the pain that brought them only being acknowledged by Chase. Chase brought her hands to her face, swiping the tears away. She bowed her head down, shielding her face from the excited, bustling crowd. They all bumped into her, being unaware of the despair she was experiencing. They were not aware of the pounding in her head that was getting stronger with each sob she suppressed.

Chase hated Eric. He let it happen. He was selfish, sacrificing lives to save his own. They had so much to live for. Eric had nothing to live for. He would live his life in the prison of marriage. That's equivalent to death. Chase's sisters, on the other hand, could have graduated and lived a happy life.

"You're such a jerk, Eric Montague." Chase said as a cry strained out of her mouth.

Her legs wobbled, but she didn't fall to the floor. She kept on walking. She moved forward. She kept on going past the dirty houses. Past the dirty people. She put forward one step, then moved onto putting the next one forward. Her determination refused to waver regardless of how many boulders crashed into it. Chase crashed onto the wall of a house. Panting, she clutched her chest as the weight on her lungs increased. 

"Ma'am, are you alright?" The hoarse, aged voice of an old man broke through Chase's bubble. 

"Yes," Chase's voice quivered, "I'm perfectly fine." Chase kept her head down, staring at the man's bare feet. His feet were creased with endless wrinkles, but the countless amount of scrapes and bruises distracted from the elderly skin. The man wrapped his left hand around Chase's wrist—the arm that was not clutching the collar of her dress.

"Are you sure, ma'am? Your gown is extremely tattered and dirty. Your knees are dripping with blood. You don't look fine. I have medical aid at my house and my niece's clothes to lend you. Once you look presentable for royalty, I'll leave you alone."

"I don't want to please royalty." Chase said as she tasted the saltiness her eyes dripped into her mouth. She attempted to wrench her wrist away, but the man's grip did not falter. 

"I'm sorry, I should not have grabbed you like that." The man carefully returned Chase's hand to her side. Chase made note of the cut up knuckles the man adorned.

Chase let out a shaky breath, refusing to look up, "sir, I want to change out of this priso—pristine gown," the dress that was given to her when she first arrived at the experiment cell had been through a lot, and she definitely smelled. "But," she continued, "you seem like a very abusive man who kicks and punches things very frequently. Looking at those cuts, probably very recently as well. Please pardon me, but I will not be entering your house."

The man laughed; his croaky voice didn't prevent him from giving a big, hearty laugh. "The only thing I've abused is the sand bag hanging from my ceiling. I may be old, but I still have to keep in shape, right? These thieves see elderly as the best target."

"I'm sorr—"

"Chase Never, right? Right now the thieves see you as the best target. Imagine how much money they could receive if they turned you in. Or even better, they would be allowed to freely roam around causing hell for others, solely because they caught the famous fugitive: Chase Never."

Chase's head slowly moved up, shaking, to look at the aged man. "You're observant, Chase," he said, "its no wonder you've survived for so long. You use your eyes wisely. Then again, that's probably why you're a fugitive now."

Chase remembered the reason why she was running. The reason her sisters died. Everything happened because she was a threat. She was too good. She wasn't average. If she hadn't been such a show-off, her sisters would still be alive.

"Don't cry, Ms. Never." Chase didn't even recognize the continuous tears dripping down her face. They burned into her skin like acid. "Crying is only going to blur that beautiful vision of yours. I will not turn you in, but I need you to trust me, Ms. Never. Can you do that?"

Could she trust? Chase had trusted many people in her life. She had also gotten burned by those people. Some of them burned her twice. One of them burned her by killing what was most precious to her. Did she wanted to lose everything? Did she even have anything to lose? Everyone else she had depended on had already stolen everything. The only thing they left was a empty shell for Chase to use. Without much debate, she knew the answer to his question. 

"No." 

The hoarse voice said nothing for a few moments before speaking. "I apologize for having to do this." The antique, seemingly fragile man shot out his left arm. His hand hit her neck. Chase blinked. Jade and obsidian blotches blinded her. Then, she finally fell to the floor.