Treacherous (Taylor x Fem OC)

31

A/N: You know what to do :) 

Wren POV

My heart is thundering in my chest, legs pumping so hard on the pavement that I can't even figure out if my feet are bleeding or not. I pant the closer and closer I get, not daring to look over my shoulder, not risking slowing down even a beat.

If I do, he'll catch me.

If I do, he'll kill me.

My hands clutch onto the duffel bag slung over my shoulder, not even thinking about how much might be in there, not even sparing a single thought to the consequences of what I am doing.

Dad asked me.

He said he needed me.

Mum is working her corner and Dad's too injured from the last run yesterday to move off the couch.

I grab onto the street light, using it to swing me around the corner, refusing to lose any sort of momentum. His screams are nothing but distant echoes at this point, a few blocks down, one left turn, a right, and another left. That's where he is. I've lost him.

My eyes dart around the alleyway, spotting the fire escape ladder just a few feet down, past the dumpster.

At this point, my legs may not even be on my body.

But I move. I climb, I jump, I run across the rooftops, counting the buildings as I sweep past chimneys and power centres.

When I reach our complex, I hurriedly climb down the escape, finding the window I know to be ours, the one with duct tape over the top right corner from a brick being thrown through.

I slide it open on the left, swinging into the flat and landing on the shag carpet, gasping for air, the duffel falling beside my feet as my hands grasp onto my knees desperately.

Heavy feet make their way over, grabbing the bag, Dad hobbling back to the couch, grasping the spot he got stabbed in his thigh, the spot I disinfected and bandaged up for him without so much as a "thank you."

My eyes climb upwards to him, watching as he rummages through, his gruffs and huffs as he counts the stacks of cash before his eyes flicker to me. I swallow thickly, fearful he'll tell me I did it wrong, that I should've gotten more for what I brought, that I let him down, and the fear only grows as he waves me over.

Breathing becomes lighter, knowing if he were to see my weakness, how my lack of nutrition has hindered my lung capacity, thinned my limbs, made me about thirty kilograms underweight than a 13 year old girl should be, he'd use it against me. But I know he's too high up in the clouds to realise.

Shakily, I step closer, flinching as he reaches for me, his harshly cut up and solid palms taking my cheeks into his large hold, dark blue eyes stricken with red drunkenness stare into my gaze, like a dagger to a beating heart, and I fear for my life, until the corners of his mouth pick up.

Dad smiles.

Not only is he smiling, he's smiling at me.

And then something even weirder happens.

He laughs.

"That's my girl! Look at this! You're just like your old man, getting all this dough. I'm proud of you, kid."

He ruffles my hair and shockwaves surge throughout me as he bellows, calloused fingers flipping through the money, eyes marvelling at the sight. I have no idea what I moved for him, I just know it was weighing down my shoulder as I carried it, and I know it was definitely drugs, just not what kind.