Deception (Michael Clifford)

Sixteen

"Trust me."
My chest throbs with fear as he reaches down and takes my hand. Mentally I flinch at his touch, but I don't have the mind to pull away, because all I can think about right now is the rapidly approaching car and the thick shadows that lay ahead of me. Instead, I let him.
I shouldn't have come out here tonight, I shouldn't have step foot outside the hotel. Regret and fear mixes dangerously in my stomach. I knew as soon as I'd made the decision that it was ridiculous, but I was getting so sick of being walled up inside a hotel room because of some stupid irrational fear. That's why I came out.
But I should've have just stayed inside, where I knew I was safe. That's all I've done since that terrifying night in New York, and it's served me well. I'm never leaving the hotel after dark again, ever. I can't rely on someone else always coming to my aid.

That's when my attention is returned to Michael, who nervously holds onto my hand at the very edge of the park. I can't help but to think what a coincidence it is for him to help me now, whilst being chased, when he was the one that saved me that night in the alley.
I push the thoughts from my head as the roaring of a car engine fills my ears. Without thinking I squeeze Michael's hand in fear, I have to follow him. I have no choice but to trust him. Taking a deep breath, I look ahead at the sickly dark shadows, whispering to me on the wind. I have to do this.
With that, I snap open my eyes and tighten my jaw in determination, and then Michael leaps into the darkness.
A small gasp escapes my lips as I'm yanked forward, and with my arm outstretched I follow him into the shadows, moving my legs as fast as I can to keep up with him.
I'm absolutely blind, I can see nothing but blurry shapes in my peripheral vision which might just resemble trees. But I can't be sure. The feelings of paranoia and dread start to boil up inside once again. That same sick feeling that I had walking down the streets of New York, and when I was locked in that dressing room in Michigan. My breath comes quickly and I start to feel light headed, but I have no choice but to keep running, I have to keep running. Breathing hard and gripping onto Michael's hand like a life line I sprint through the chilling darkness, the cold wind grazing my skin. I hope they aren't following us. The wind in my ears blocks out any noise of the peruser so I have no idea if they are, I just have to trust Michael.

Without warning my arm is yanked suddenly to the right and I almost trip over my own feet. I stare around blindly with heart racing, trying to figure out which way to turn. But then I feel my hand being pulled forward.
Stumbling over I feel two firm hands placed on my shoulders and myself being pressed against something solid. What the hell!? The exact same feeling of panic rises in my chest, all too familiar to me now, and I breathe rapidly from sprint, or from fear, blinking wordlessly in the darkness as my eyes adjust. Michael's breathing fills my ears as he tries to catch his breath, and I detect a lingering scent of nicotine and alcohol.
Why are we stopping? Have we reached the other side of the park already?
I feel my beanie being snagged on something behind me, breathing hard from the effort, I reach a hand up and try and undo it, when I realise it's actually catching on bark. The rough texture scratches my fingers and pulls on my hair. Why are we hiding behind a tree? I look up at Michael who's standing almost protectively in front of me, and I can just make out the features of his face. He's looking ahead at something, his eyes unblinking, looking at the other end of the park with his eyebrows furrowed into a worrying frown. Gathering my strength, I break the silence.
"Are they coming?" I whisper between breaths, desperately trying to control my heart rate.
His face twitches as I look up at him for an answer, but he doesn't peel his eyes away, he just stares on wordlessly. Other than mine and Michael's breathing, and the soft wind through the branches above, I can hear the distant rumble of an engine, puffing defeatedly I decide to look for myself. Peaking my head out from around the tree, I instantly spot what Michael is looking at.
Just at the entrance to the park, where we paused moments before, sits an idle car, head lights glaring at an angle.
We watch it intently, both aware of how easy it would be for them to find us in this pitiful hiding spot. The sound of Michael's breathing stirs my fringe and I feel it tickling my ears, making me aware of how close he is standing behind me. I shift self consciously.