Protected

Escape

"Mexico." I whisper to myself as I look out the second story window. "We're in Mexico."
It had been one week since Carson and I had made up in Cali. My arm was not hurting nearly as much, but I had 6 weeks until it would hurt no more. I was scared for how it would look when it was done healing, because right now it was bent and misshapen, and I could only hope it wasn't to much of a hindrance further in life. It's discouraging to think about having my arm ruined... Permanently.

I glanced up as Carson entered the room. "Hey." I said. He smiled at me.
"Hey back. What are you doing?" "Just thinking." I paused. "Carson, we need to escape. I feel like I'm watching my life slip away. It's been three months and no ones come after us. Clearly they're not planning to."
He looked at me. "My mind tells me that this isn't smart, but my heart says do it. Which would you follow?"
I got up and walked over to him, placing my hand on his chest.
"I would follow your heart, but use your mind," I moved my hand to his head. "As a guide." I finished.
He smiled. "Where do you get all these deep quotes?" He whispered gruffly. I could tell being so close to me was taking a toll on him, so I stepped back.
"I guess I spend too much time thinking and wording my emotions into sentences." I answered.
He smiled. "There you go again."
I blushed. "Let's steer the conversation back to escape. I have a plan, and it involves you."
He rolled his eyes. "It would have to involve me. I couldn't let you take all the spotlight for getting us out of here, could I?"
I grinned at him. "Here's the deal. You know how Boss lets us work now? I cook and you clean?"
He nodded. "Yes, I'm aware we have jobs." He said sarcastically.
I punched him. "Focus. Anyway, while you're cleaning the study, snatch a pen. Next time I see you, you slip it to me. I will write a note on the back of a recipe, and we'll get it out of here." 
Carson shrugged. "It's the only plan we have right now, so sure why not. We're not on a spy show, it doesn't have to be elaborate. Only, when Boss receives the cooking magazine he gets for you, just cut out the mailing address and write it on that. Then, whoever reads it will know exactly where we are."
I smiled up at him. "You're smarter than you make yourself out to be, you know that?"
He smirked. "Smart guys are nerds, nerds don't get the girls. Jocks do. Which would you choose if you were both?"
I stepped back. "Since when do you have something against nerds?" I asked, a little offended. Being a straight A student, I always felt the term had applied to me a bit.
He stared at me, and I shivered under his gaze. "I don't have anything against cute nerds." He replied. "Now, you should go make breakfast, or Boss'll have a fit."

         What to make, what to make. I thought to myself as I flipped through one of the magazines. Boss ordered them because he didn't want to buy a recipe book. Wouldn't that have been easier?
I guess he didn't want to buy something if it could be delivered. He avoided stores, on the chance someone could recognize him.
The magazine came once month, but I would only be receiving one, since we won't be in Mexico much longer. I glanced through it a couple of times and settled on a 'breakfast casserole.'
  I hummed as I bustled around the kitchen with the eggs, ham, cheese, and peppers. After putting the casserole in the oven, I figured it was time for a break.
As I headed for the bathroom, Carson passed me. He bumped into me, hard, causing me to stumble into the wall. Then he kept walking without even glancing back. I was confused for a second, then realized I had a pen pressed into my hand. I smiled to myself and slipped into the bathroom.

        When I came out, the oven timer was going off. I hurried back to the kitchen and took the casserole.
I set the table, served up portions and headed back to the kitchen. Boss liked to have the table set and food distributed to every plate before he came down.
Breakfast was served at 9:00. Boss had 3 other people over, two guys and a gal. It was a good idea to make a large meal, I mused. There was a clattering of footsteps as Boss, Smalls, and their guests arrived at the table. 
I stood just inside the swinging doors and listened apprehensively to see if they liked it. After hearing grunts of approval and conversation beginning, I slunk back to the counter to write the note.
Tearing off the mailing address, I thought a moment before writing on the back.

Help. Kidnapped. Two teens, age 15. From Vermont. Marijuana dealers.

I re-read it and decided it was fine. "Mia!" I heard Boss's harsh voice. "We need more juice!"
I didn't comment on the name. He'd been using many different names throughout the weeks so I couldn't be traced. Today I am Mia.
I stuck the note in my pocket and sashayed out with the juice pitcher. I walked around pouring and as I approached Boss, I noticed a menacing glint in his eye.
I was uneasy as I came around the corner of the table and started to pour his glass. All of a sudden I felt a hand plunged into my pocket and the note ripped out.
I stifled a gasp and stepped back to watch his face. His blue and brown eyes scanned my short note back and forth, and a hardness had come over his face.
He slowly stood up, and looked out at his gaping guests. "Excuse me," he said pleasantly. "I have to handle something important." I felt a blade press into my back as he guided me out of the room.
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A/N: hey everyone! I just have a couple of questions, would you please comment answers? It's important to me.

1. How do you like Protected?
2. How did you hear about Protected?
3. How many of you have read it from the beginning?

Thank you so much! Love you!
-Meredith