Killer || m.g.c

0.5

Bonnie Jackson.

I don't know why I was jogging. Never in my life before have I ever felt such a strong desire to escape. I knew, of course, that I couldn't just leave. Nathan needed me, I had good work here and everything fit perfectly.

My legs burnt almost as much as my lungs, which felt as if they were in flames. I knew they weren't but I still drank copious amounts of water, just to be safe. When I came to a park that was a few suburbs away from my own, I sat down.

My breathing was uneven and I had about three stitches, each one in a different spot. Now that I had gotten past the need to escape, I questioned whether this exercise was actually worth it. I could get a taxi home or Nate to pick me up. I stood up, deciding my options weren't worth the hassle, and began walking.

It was quite early. I had woken up at four, left the house half an hour later and been running, jogging and walking for about an hour now. It was still dark, the sun was no where to be seen. Stars sparkled above me but were fainter towards the east side. I walked slowly and swiftly, staring at the sky as I formed constellations between sparkling dots.

I jumped when I heard the squeaking of tires against rubber. Looking towards the noise, I noticed a familiar car speeding down the road before it came to a sharp stop. I watched in confusion as Michael jumped out of the car and began jogging towards me.

"Go away, Michael." I groaned, turning to continue walking. Michael didn't say anything as he grabbed my arm and pulled me. I slapped his arm and tried pushing against his grip. Get off me, you ass!" I exclaimed. He snapped around and glared.

"Just shut up for a second, ok? We need to talk." He turned back around and I hesitantly followed. He opened his passenger side car door and I glared at him as I got in. He closed it behind me and walked over, getting in the other side.

"Sorry for-"

"What do you want?" I interrupted just wanting to leave. Michael sighed and turned towards me.

"People pay me to kill others." He let out in one quick breath. I blinked a few times as I tried to process what he was saying.

"What?" I questioned, needing clarification. He leant forward and opened the glove box, revealing two guns. My eyebrows furrowed together as I glanced between him and the guns.

"I kill people and get paid for it." He said as he grabbed a little book from under the seat, passing it to me.

Curiously, I opened it. Old newspaper articles were stuck to the first few pages, each one describing a random shooting or court event. I flicked through the pages, my fingertips running over the inked material. I slammed the book shut when I saw a picture messily stuck in on one of the pages. The picture was of a man, a wound to the head and a dead look in his eyes, lying on the floor surrounded by blood. The picture was colourful and printed on proper photographic paper. It hadn't been from a newspaper article.

"You monster!" I yelled, tears welling up in my eyes as I desperately scratched at the door handle which I now noticed was locked. I scrambled to push my back against the door, trying to get as far away as possible.

"Bonnie..." he sighed, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"No, no, you don't have the right the cry!" I exclaimed, tears running down my face freely, temporarily staining my shirt. "You're not the one in a car with a murderer!"

"Bonnie, I'm sorry."

"I kissed you!" I realised. "I kissed a murderer!" I was shaking, now curled up in a little ball on the seat. Michael wiped away another few tears, taking a deep breath before continuing to talk.

"Those men who found me yesterday are a victim's family, they figured out it was me all ready but have no stone hard proof. I didn't tell you because then I'd have to tell you. I didn't want you to know." He sighed. I whimpered quietly, unable to form sentences as fear shook me harder than before. I think I was about to pass out.

"Why are you telling me?" I whispered in between sobs, my back aching from the door arm rest being pressed against it.

"I heard from a friend that they're after you now, to get to me." I was silent as he swallowed. I curled up tighter in my ball, if that was even possible.

"This can't be happening." I said to myself.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie. Really, I am but we have to leave. They'll kill you if we don't." My head snapped up at his words and I glared.

"You made me walk home, got me held hostage by strangers and are a murderer and want me to leave with you?" I laughed humourlessly. "You must be sick." Michael lay a hand on my shoulder as a form of comfort and I hit it off, my chest rising and falling erratically from all this adrenaline pumping through my veins. He glared before giving me a smirk.

"Sick? No. Protective? Maybe a little." He stated before starting the car.

As the car began moving, I hugged my knees to my chest and hoped that everything would turn out ok.

>>

I woke up dizzy and confused. The first thing my eyes saw was the moving setting of the country. The radio played some rock song that I knew and I tapped my foot as I rubbed my eyes. I looked beside me, expecting to see Nathan driving me.

I was wrong. That wasn't Nathan.

Earlier's events flooded back in to my mind and I took in a sharp breath of air. Michael glanced towards me and smiled.

"Morning." He said. I looked at the time and it read 'eleven'.

I didn't reply back to him but turned my head to look out the window again, now counting the cows we drive past for something to do.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know." Michael chuckled half heartedly. "I kill only for business purposes." I continued to stay silent. Michael stopped trying to talk to me after that, which I was thankful for.

It was now that I realised that this was actually happening. I was being kidnapped, but for my 'protection', by a once potential boyfriend who gets paid to kill. The thought of escaping crossed my mind but I doubted it would happen. I don't know where I'm going or where I am, who is after me and if anyone actually is. The idea of escaping one unknown to the other had me fearful. I was just going to have to live in the moment for a while, I supposed.

"Are you continuing with your line of work?" I questioned. My voice sounded weak and dreary. Michael shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. Gives good pay and I'm good but the risks are pretty high." I didn't respond. "Just, I'm sorry, yeah? I didn't want to do this." He received a small nod from me.

The road in which we drove on has two lanes, a single strip of fading white paint down the middle separated the two sides. Next to the road was a metre or so of dying grass in front of a poorly made fence which was the barrier between the public and some big farming acres. The sky was a bright blue and the sun beat down on us, not a single cloud to be seen.

I sure did feel miserable for such a beautiful day.