Along For the Ride

Chapter 1

"So, let me get this straight," I said with attitude. The same attitude that always seems to get me into deeper shit than I started with. "You're telling me you can't do anything? Not even let me tell you what I know?!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," The officer said. "Something has to happen in order for us to begin an investegation,"

"But the bastard broke into my apartment! What do you classify as something around here?! Are you trying to wait for me to get raped or murdered or both?!"

"If the break in wasn't reported, than there's nothing we can do,"

I had to resist the urge of stomping my foot, sticking my tongue out at him, and telling him it wasn't fair. "Fine, but when you hear word of a nineteen year old named Lacey Smith murdered, you'll be the one to blame," I turned swiftly, swishing my hair a bit and walked out of the police station.

Still radiating with the heat of my anger, I walked to my motorbike and shoved the key in the ignition. Riding my bike around always calmed me down when something was wrong, but now that I felt my anger draining, the fear set in. I didn't have anyone else to stay with for protection, I didn't have a gun or anything else, but there was someone out there that's been watching me. I didn't report the break-in, because nothing was broken or stolen. There was no way anyone would believe me. The only reason I knew someone was in my apartment, is because of my horrible OCD. I live alone. I have no friends. No body goes in and out of my apartment but me. And somebody left my bed unmade, left my kitchen drawers open, and almost every single piece of clothes I had in my closet were on the floor, unfolded and off the hanger. I have no idea how they came in, but if they did it once, they can do it again when I'm asleep.

It was obviously out of my hands. What choice did I have but to go home and at least try to sleep? It was the most rational thing to do.

~

I picked up Chinese food on the way home and settled down on my balcony with the current book I was reading, and ate. When I was finished with that, I did my nightly ritual of showering, doing dishes, picking up the apartment (although it was almost always spotless; a habit I learned from the orphanages and group homes I was always in and out of as a kid), and plopped down on my bed with my text books.

I was just opening my book and getting out my class notes, when I heard my doorbell ring. I never had company, therefore no one rang my doorbell except people begging me to go to their church, and people trying to sell things (I was interested in neither, being non religious and broke), so I didn't move to answer. I never did.

I waited for something else to happen, still being a little sketchy about being stalked, but nothing did. I let out a sigh I didn't realize I was holding in, and continued to get out my notes. About two minutes later, after writing out almost an entire paragraph, there was a knock at my door.

I curled myself into fetal position, putting my hands on my head so I could think clearly. "Think, Lacey, think,"

The idea popped into my head like a light bulb, and I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a lead pipe from under the sink that I found when I first moved in. I knew it'd come in handy someday. I moved slowly towards the door, peering through the peephole. "Who's there? It's late. I don't want to buy anything," I said out loud, but the man I saw through the peephole didn't look like your typical salesman. He had coal black hair that was dripping from the rain, dark clothes, and bright blue eyes that were staring almost directly into mine, and for a moment I wondered if he could see me.

"Lacey, I need to talk to you. We don't have much time. Please let me in and hear me out,"

I opened the door, but didn't take off the top chain lock so that it was open only barely. "Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?"

"I'm a friend," He said. Of course, to you readers, I'm going to sound like an idiot. I mean, I live alone, I have no friends, no one would notice me missing. Seriously, how could you let someone, especially a strange man, in your house at eleven thirty at night, just because he said 'I'm a friend,'.

But, you should've seen the look in his eyes. The bluest eyes I've ever seen, that seemingly peer right down to your soul with such honesty and good hearted-ness, I just had to let him in. Sue me.

And, it helped that he was attractive. Oh god, he was attractive. He looked in his early twenties, five o'clock shadow appearing on his chiseled features, his dark hair hanging low over his eyes, and a thin scar that stretched down the left of his neck and dissapeared under the collar of his dark gray, dripping wet button up shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to hint on a godlike body under those clothes.

I shut the door, took off the chain, and opened the door all the way, inviting him in. I frowned when he walked in with his shoes on. "Hey, you're tracking mud everywhere," I said, pointing to his shoes with the lead pipe I forgot was in my hands. He gave me a funny look.

"Lacey, are you aware that you're in danger?" He asked me, looking at me with those eyes of his.

His words unsettled me, and sent a shiver down my spine. "H-h-how do you know?" I said, trying to keep my voice strong, but failing miserably.

"You need to get your things together. We have to leave," And on that note, he turned his back away from me and started tearing up my apartment. Flipping over the couch, opening closet doors, looking under furniture.

It took me a few moments to wake myself up from my daze, but soon I ran after him when he disappeared in my bedroom. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get the fuck out of my house! Are you the bitch that broke in the other day? Are you the one stalking me? Hello?" He wouldn't respond to me, but a look of concentration was plastered on his face as he stared into my closet. "Get out!" I repeated, but still to no avail.

I lifted the metal pipe above my head as a warning that I was about to strike. When he still didn't even give me a glance, I brought the pipe down with all of my might. He grabbed it, snatching it out of my hand and tossing it easily across the room.

He was staring at me now, with those eyes. I was terrified, stuck in the same spot. I started to shake, his stare was unsettling. "Run," He said, urgently. Lacey did not compute. The single word wasn't processing in my head, sounding strangely foreign. Did he tell me to...? "Run!" He repeated louder when I didn't move. I was too stunned to move, and would be too stubborn even if I was able.

He sieghed heavily, then, took off running, grabbing my arm and swinging me, quite literally, on his back and grabbed my other arm to keep me steady, all in the same motion. I screamed, squirmed, and even bit him once on the shoulder in an attempt to make him drop me, but he held on. He ran down my hallway, and across my livingroom, out on my balcony of my third story apartment, and...

He dived off of it, sending both of us soaring into the cool, rainy night air.