Disastrous

11

The conversation turned to something lighter after that per Mitch’s request.  But it fell out as he started his run with me tagging along for as long as I could.

Maybe after fifteen minutes my side was hurting so much it was difficult to breathe and my legs felt like jello.

“I’ll catch up,” I panted, waving him on, “Just give me a sec,”

“You sure?” Mitch asked, turning around to face me yet he was still running in place

“Yeah, I just need to sit for a second,” I pointed to a boulder-sized rock that I could sit on.

“Okay, yell if you need something,” He said over his shoulder as he jogged off.

“Mhmm,” I hummed as I sat down, my hand gripping my stomach.

I brought my knees to my head, seeing if that made it easier to breathe and it did thankfully.

I had tried to push away all the questions and thoughts I had about the information Mitch gave me.

The three of them, Mitch and his friends, had told me they worked for Colby.  Did that mean I would be killed if they ratted me out?  Eventually I would die, and I would have to face the fact that I would never see my family again.

Why did this have to happen to me? Why did my grandfather, a sweet old man who had an obsession with the color purple, of all people have to be a mob boss, if that’s what it was even called?

I didn’t even know the terms that everyone here would be referred to.  I never really studied anything about gangs or cults or paid enough attention to the news to know about everything that was taking place in California.

Maybe I would have seen this all coming if I simply opened my eyes.

But if you were to tell me a month ago that I was going to get kidnapped by hot ass dudes and then get dragged across the country and run away and have my mission be successful, I would laugh in your face.

No matter what, I would fight until I couldn’t anymore to keep the life I had now.  I would not return to the Trapboys and I would not go home, because I’d die like them.

My mother, father, my beautiful sister and brother.  Gone.  Basically, anyway.  I would never see them again and by the time I get back home they would be dead.

If word was to get out I went back to Kentucky the first thing Colby would do is fly there and kill them. I know it.

Why me, of all people? Was it just coincidence that I was to walk down to my grandfather’s house when I did? Probably.

“I don’t want to die,” I whined with a sniffle, “Why can’t I just live a normal life?”

I wiped at my eyes, my breath becoming shaky.

I heard footsteps, and in that instant I was no longer sad but in fear.  My body quickly switched around from sitting on my ass to crouching, pushing myself behind the rock for proteciton.

I couldn’t hear the leaves crunching anymore or the snapping of twigs, so I peaked my head over the rock.  I looked up at the trees, seeing if I could spot someone up in the branches.