Saving Isabella

Chapter 18: On the run

A/N 

Ok first off I want everyone to say 'Thank you Dear Author for updating, your the best'. Secondly I have an annoucment! I MADE THE CHARACTERS AESTHETICS! Ain't I the best? Just kidding it took me 2 days to figure it out I'm still recovering. Anyways enjoy this new chapter of reckless misbehaviour. Oh and if someone asks me to again to write about LGBTQAI+ I will kill one of the characters. It's coming ok? Be patient and wait a couple of chapters, please and thank you! 

A/N 2 

Can you guys see the update on 'The Characters' chapter because I can't and it's driving me mad.

The gun is tucked into the back of my pants, my shirt covering it. Escaping from the mass of soldiers and medical staff wasn't that difficult, they were all too distracted to notice a small teenage girl running around. As I walk out of the parking lot, I find myself facing deserted alleyways. I look back, this definitely isn't a normal hospital, it's giving abandoned warehouse vibes. I shrug, wince and walk away. I walk forward turning occasionally, I have no clue where I am, I don't have a phone and a teenage girl limping around covered in blood is probably not a good look so I'm trying to keep a low profile. I mean I could say the blood isn't mine but I highly doubt that would help my situation in any way.

When I walked out of the weird hospital place thing, the sun was directly above me, so it must've been around twelve or noon, now the sun was disappearing so considering it's May and the days are getting longer it must be 7 something, maybe earlier. I look around, I've been zoned out for quite some time. I'm in a busy street full of tourists in... Hollywood? How the fuck did I get here?

I try to assess my situation: I have no money, no food, no shelter, bloody clothes and I just had surgery. I'm pretty sure my brothers are extremely powerful men, I wouldn't be surprised if they told me they were in the mafia, they are for sure trying to find me, plus they got that Silas person who sounds like a fucking detective. Spoiler alert my situation sucks, but my situation has sucked since the day I was born. I don't deserve to live, if I would've managed to off myself earlier I would've saved a lot of people a lot of time and money. Why am I so stupid? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

I see three options: 1. I blow my brains with the gun 2. I start shooting at people and shoot myself (guys, especially if you're American, don't please) 3. I use my amazing pickpocketing skills. I think imma go with 3. I have better uses for a gun than shooting myself in the head. Jack taught me a few useful things, when he pretended to care he taught me to shoot, when he threw me out on the street for 4 months he taught me how to survive, when he would beat me black and blue he taught me pain. My mom taught me stuff too, mostly about drugs, how to make money and how to manipulate people into helping me.

The streets are packed, buzzing with tourists, their voices blending into a chaotic hum that echoes against the old stone buildings. It's the perfect cover. Each time I brush past a distracted traveler, my fingers slip like whispers into their pockets, barely stirring the fabric. I move fast, light on my feet. I bump into a man in a baseball cap, feigning clumsiness, and in one fluid motion, my hand disappears into his coat pocket and retrieves a leather wallet. He doesn't even notice, already turning back to snap a picture of some monument.

I weave through the crowd, zig-zagging across the busy street, repeating the same move over and over. A woman adjusting her sunglasses, a couple arguing over a map, a group of teenagers laughing too loud—none of them pay me any mind as I relieve them of their valuables. My fingers close around the cool surface of a phone in one person's jacket, a quick tug and it's mine. A slight rush of adrenaline pulses through me every time I score something decent.