Little Lamb

23 ❦ white mustang, I felt it

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He yanked me out of bed by the arm. The cold air was biting against my skin, as I was only in my underwear and a thin top. Riggs's face was intense, his eyes scanning the room urgently.

"Come on," he ordered.

Groggy and terrified, I followed him, my feet stumbling on the cold floor. He led me to a small closet space in the corner of the room. Before I could ask what was happening, he shoved me inside.

Confused and panicked, I stumbled into the cramped space. The walls seemed to close in around me. I tried to turn and look at Riggs, but he was already behind me. The distant gunshots made my heart race even faster. My breathing was erratic, tears streaming down my face as I cried out, "Riggs, Riggs, what's happening?"

Riggs's hand covered my mouth again, his grip strong and desperate. He whispered urgently in my ear, "Stay quiet and stay close."

Everything was a blur, my mind spinning with fear and confusion. The space was so small we could only stand, and the walls pressed in on me from all sides. I wanted to scream, but Riggs's hand held me firmly. My tears fell silently as I clung to him, trying to find some sense of safety in the chaos.

The gunshots grew louder, echoing in the small space, and I could feel the vibrations in my chest. My whole body shook with fear. I wanted to understand what was happening, but all I could do was hold my breath.

I noticed something alarming, my arms were smeared with blood, and for a moment, I panicked, thinking it was my own.
But it didn't make sense. My heart pounded as I tried to see through my tear-blurred vision. Riggs's big hands, which were clamped over my mouth, were stained with blood. I tried to turn my head to look at his face, but he kept me pressed close.

His breaths were rapid, and I could feel his chest heaving against my back. I caught a glimpse of his shirt, it was dark, now stained with blood. My eyes widened as the realization hit me.

Riggs was hurt.

Riggs's hand eventually tiredly left my mouth as I grew quiet. His hands now held firmly onto my arms. My crying had stopped, but I wiped my mouth and noticed the blood staining my lips. "Riggs, you're bleeding."

I tried to turn to look at him, and our eyes met. His gaze was filled with adrenaline, his pupils dilated and cold. "It's not mine. I think most of it isn't."

He grunted in pain, resting his head against the back of the closet wall.

"What... What's happening out there?" I managed to ask, my voice cracking with fear.

"Nothing good," he replied bluntly.

"Why are they shooting?" I asked worriedly.

Riggs gave a low, cold laugh, but it wasn't a sound of amusement. It was a sound of exhaustion and grim acceptance.
"Because it's what they do."

I swallowed heavily, my heart racing in my chest.

"Something's gone wrong. It's not safe out there for you," he said, his voice low and rough.
"I need to keep you hidden, we need to stay quiet."

He's been out there, he's all bloody. Something is happening, I don't know what. He's not gonna tell me right now, I would freak out.

Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and the gunshots continued, the sound echoing through the room. I felt helpless, stuck here in the cramped space with him, not knowing what was happening.

Riggs's body was warm and strong against mine, his breath ragged and uneven on the back of my neck. As he shifted, I moved with him.

Then, he let out an unexpected, low sigh.