April 19, 2013
Day 19: Write a scene that would make you feel exhilirated after writing it.
"Jared!" I shrieked in such a shrill voice I barely recognized.
Jared skidded to a stop in his tracks and whirled around to face me. I was speechless as though my shriek had consumed all the power of my vocal cords. I simply pointed helplessly at the direction the robber had gone.
Jared huffed out a string of curse words that would have had my mother label him right away as bad influence, and probably triggered a coronary from Madame Devereux.
He did a double take, ran back towards me, past me, and round the alley the robber had taken. Jared ran fast, like really fast. I barely saw him fly past me. I just kind of felt him run past with the wind and everything.
I stood standing there on the side walk under the sole lit lamppost. Admittedly, I am not one of those super tough chicks in the novels and the movies. I wasn't brave. I wasn't agile. I wasn't even that alert. A robber went running with my bag, and what do I do? I don't go chase him down with some unbelievable adrenaline rush. Nope, nu-uh. Instead, I froze and screamed for Jared to run after the guy.
Suddenly, it occured to me that I was alone in the sidewalk. It was so quiet and so deserted that I could hear the defeaning sound of utter silence. Can it truly be this quiet in any part of Paris? I got scared the moment I realized how dark it was. My overactive imagination conjured a gang of bad guys rushing out at me out of nowhere.
So, I did the most sensible thing I thought of at the moment, meaning the stupidest thing a sane person could do at the situation.
I took off after Jared.
Because of the headstart I had given Jared and the ass who stole my bag, the two of them were nowhere to be seen, but that didn't stop me. My feet echoed through the pavement as I ran the length of the alley i had seen Jared turn. I came to a stop at an intersection of alleyways. Which one could they have possibly taken?
Voices behind me and looming shadows had me running again towards no particular direction. Aside from my own, I heard footsteps behind me. They follwed me! The shadows followed me! Probably to finish me off or something! A deep, gravelly voice shouted at me in French. I understood a single word.
Oi!
Translation in my fear-clouded mind: Hey!
I didn't dare look back, but instead, I willed my legs to run as fast as they could. Fear had a vice-like grip on my heart. In my panic, I was a flurry of limbs taking turns at random corners and streets.
Please don't let me trip, I prayed silently. I wasn't exactly the most coordinated person in the world, admittedly as I had noticed and tried to remedy in years of ballet, and as of the moment, my life actually depended on my rebel feet.
Suddenly from out of nowhere, a hand pulled me aside. My momentum propelled the both of us forward but the person's strength anchored us upright. I screamed and a hand clamped over my mouth. My reflexes finally kicking in, I chomped down on the palm over my lips.
"Shit!" a voice I had come to grow very familiar with hissed through gritted teeth.
"Jared?" I asked the shadow in the darkness.
"Yes," he whispered, "You bit me!"
A pulse in my temple was throbbing and my heart was nearly exploding through my chest as the guys chasing after me ran off, past us, into the dark. The sound of Jared's familiar voice acted like a sedative to my hyper-aware adrenaline-enhanced senses. My knees began to give out and the nausea and exhaustion caught up with me.
"Let me see," I told him, reaching for his hand guiltily.
He grudgingly handed it over. Under the faint lights, I could just barely see the mark my bite left there but it was unmistakable. I don't know how it happened but his hand was actually bleeding, my jaw imprinted on the palm of it.
"It's not that bad," I stated tentatively.
"It's effing bleeding!"
"Oh stop being so dramatic! It's not like I have rabies or something like a rabid dog!" I scolded as I dropped his hand, " You were the one who lashed out at me!"
"Uh, in case you haven't noticed," Jared snapped back snarkily, "I saved you."
"Thanks," I mumbled, earnestly but too embarrassed to tell him.
"A little skimpy on the gratitude there," he commented annoyingly.
I rolled my eyes at him as I had been doing more so often lately, and ignored his little stint. We both sat on the probably filthy ground without caring, our backs supported by the brick wall we were leaning against.
"So did you get them? Our bags, I mean," I asked him.
"No," he asnwered curtly, shaking his head, "I lost him when I heard your footsteps and several others chasing after you."
