A Match Made in Hell

46

"Stop, it's not that big of a deal." I slap his hand away from me.

"Zachary, put that motherfucking bag down." Aiden points his finger in my face. Just looking at him, I can tell he's exhausted. He's carrying three huge bags and won't let me carry a single one that's lighter than the bag I used to take to elementary school.

"I just want to help you." I step away from him so he doesn't try to snatch it away from me again. "I'm supposed to be carrying all this, I decided that I was going to come here, you're already helping enough by being by my side, more than enough."

He just stares at me without saying anything, but snatches the bag from me the second I'm not paying much attention to where his hand is going.

He smiles in victory, smirking at me as he swings the bag over his shoulder.

"Aiden, please give that back." I try to say calmly, but he ignores me and keeps walking. "No way in hell!" I hear him yell from a distance, still giggling to himself.

"I swear to god I won't move until you give that back." I cross my arms, he turns back and rolls his eyes at me.

"Your arm is broken, I'm not giving this to you and that's final." He nods, whispering quietly. "For fucks sake, Zak, I'd rather carry you, too."

"I'm not letting you carry that." I don't move, standing in my place like a statue.

"You little shit." He rolls his eyes, I squeal as he snatches me from my feet and quite literally swings me over his shoulder.

"I TAKE IT BACK!" I scream, punching his back with my untouched arm but it doesn't seem to do anything because of all the bags he's carrying on his back. "I'm sorry, put me down!"

He laughs from below me, not taking me seriously. I'd jump down if it weren't for my arm right now.

"Aiden, I'm serious!" He suddenly stops in his place, freezing like a statue.

He puts me down slowly, looking around us in fear.

He suddenly reaches for his pocket, pulling a gun out and immediately stepping infront of me, his hands shaking and trembling, almost dropping the shotgun he's gripping onto tightly.

I look around in confusion, too, and I can hear sounds of faint laughter, which may sound like a group of people.

"Aiden?" I whisper quietly, he just shuts me up by slapping a hand over my mouth. I'm for sure confused about why he's overreacting so much, but he seems to be afraid.

So afraid, those fragile and pale hands of his don't stop shivering for a split second. He's breathing heavily, placing all the bags down on the floor to lessen some weight on his shoulders.

He slowly starts walking forward, his gun still pointing in the air, his finger on the trigger.

"Hands in the air, motherfucker!" A man with a thick accent yells from behind us. The two of us slowly turn around, only to find so many men pointing their guns at us.

And they're all way older than us, of course. They almost look like giants, in my perspective. Aiden doesn't seem to be threatened by all of them, though. His gun is still pointed at the man standing in the middle.

"I said point your fucking gun down, kid." He warns once more, stepping forward. Aiden shakes his head once again, not stepping back.

"What do you want?" Aiden asks, his voice so quiet, I don't think the man could have heard him. But it surprisingly turns out that he did.

"Hold on a second, what do you want?" The guy says, he's so creepy looking, but I feel more threatened everytime he takes a step towards us.

"I'm trying to find my fucking way out." He let's go of my mouth, holding my wrist instead, being careful just so he doesn't touch my injured arm.