Hate Being A Rockstar! (ON-HOLD)

Chapter 9-The Nightmares.

A/n: Hey readers! Sorry for the super long wait! I was concentrating on Colors?, my short story, the only one I was proud of...XD So, yea, here is it...About Chloe's life. Don't hate her anymore, please..

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Chapter 9

Willing my feet to run faster, I crossed the road without stopping to glance left and right to check if there was any cars at all. I shut my eyes when a drop of big fat rainwater splat on to my face and my brain froze when I heard a car honking at me. I didn’t know how to react as the spotlight of the car blinded my eyes when I opened them.

I knew on that moment, that car will hit me and I will be flying into the sky and land on the hard ground with broken bones.

But the impact never met me. Instead someone had their arms around my waist and pulling me away from the road. The car stopped beside us, and the driver’s window rolled down, revealing a bald man.

He was scowling and shouted something in French and I don’t understand. He drove away, tires screeching on the wet ground. I pushed my savior away, knowing who was that as his scent clouded my nostril. I ran again, to find myself lost in the place.

I didn’t know how to get back to his house.

I dropped to all fours in the middle of the walkway, regretting that I didn’t try to memorize the surrounding. Dion was behind me instantly, pulling me to a stand so that he can stare at my broken self. I have never thought that the nightmares were taking its toll on me.

“Take me back to your house.” I ordered with as much as authority I can put in my sobbing tone. He nodded without having the need to tell him twice. It was raining and he was holding my hand while we walked; his hand was incredible large and it felt warm against my cold skin. I could not help but feel safe under his hold although he was the one that awoke my nightmares I have been dreading to forget.

As soon as we reached the front of his house, I pulled my hand away from him and dashed into the house, thankful that Leon didn’t lock the door. He was absolutely shocked when I went into my room –he was in the living room, watching SpongeBob Square pants in French on TV-.

I slammed the door and lock it. I took out my luggage and started removing my clothes from the shelf. There was knocks on my door but I ignored it as I throw every clothes into the bag; I didn’t care if it’s crumbled or anything because I want to leave this house as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to stay in a house that a gangster was staying.

“Chloe!” Dion called, fear was collecting in his tone. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t answer as I busied myself with the clothes but after a moment, I couldn’t see anything because tears were flooding my eyesight. I rubbed them away with the back of my hand. I was almost finished when the knocking stopped.

I let myself slide down against the bed side and hit the floor with my butt, wrapping my hands around my knees, I crushed my legs to my chest and started crying with my clothes soaked wet. It was after a few minutes, I heard keys clattering and the door being unlocked. Damn, never thought of that!

I rose to my feet and shut the lid of my luggage when Dion burst through the door way. I didn’t even look at him at all when he enters. I grabbed the handle of my bag and stormed out of my room. Dion closed the door before I could leave. He jerked the luggage out of my hand easily like I was a ghost holding to an item I shouldn’t even be hanging on to. He placed it on his feet and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t name at all.