Locked

Chapter 1

I heard my heart beat in my ears and felt the adrenaline pumping through my body. My shoes slapped against the pavement as I tried to outrun my pursuers. As I dashed around the corner at full speed, I ran into a guy with coffee in his hand, splashing coffee all over his suit and white shirt. I yelled a very sincere "SORRY," over my shoulder while I continued dashing through the busy crowds on the pier. I felt sorry for the guy and his suit, and normally I would stop to help clean it up, it's just that right now, I've have way bigger problems. Like ten ton problems, literally.

I should have stayed in bed and never woken up. My Grandpa had died a week ago, and today we were having an estate sale to get rid of all of the funny bobbles and trinkets he owned in his house. There was no way we could keep the countless china dolls and cheap potted plants. The sale was going pretty well, until a wrinkled old man and his French bulldog with a face that matched his master's walked up to me to buy something.

"Miss, How much is this china bulldog?" I heard from behind my back.

As I turned around to answer him, I noticed some people by the statute section staring at me, a teenage guy and a girl, who were both wearing trench coats. Why would they want to wear something so hot on a summer day? Unless they wanted to steal something, I thought to myself. I'm going to have to go over...

My thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Bulldog asked again, "Is this china bulldog for sale ma'am?"

"Yeah, everything you see here is for sale. The bulldog is twenty bucks," I said, "And we can take a check or cash, either is fine."

The old man fumbled around in his pocket for a while, and then produced a wad of crisp dollar bills. He handed me the money, and walked away. I was about to start helping the next customer, but then I realized he had given way too much money, and those shady trench coat kids looked as if they were following him. They're probably going to mug him. And I need to give back his extra money, so I might as well warn him.

I still look back today and wonder if I really chose to do this, or if Fate was intervening. I could have just left the old man and those people alone, or better yet, called the cops. But I followed him. And because I chose to do that, I changed my life.

Thirty minutes later I find myself walking down a deserted street when the sketchy kids stopped following the old man and entered a coffee shop.

I should probably tell the man those kids are following him while they're in the coffee shop. Figuring that was the best thing to do, I ran a few blocks to catch up to the man and tapped him on his shoulder.

He quickly swirled around, grabbed me by my throat,and held me up as he shouted,"I knew someone with power was following me!"

Frantic thoughts ran through my mind as his grip started to tighten around my throat. Power? What power? I don't have power! But maybe those trench coat teenagers did. It would explain the gothic dress.

I struggled as I tried to answer him and say it wasn't me, but his hands around my neck were grasping harder and harder, barely letting any air in. Almost as if on cue, the teens stepped out of the shop and saw the old man squeezing the life out of me. The boy's face looked alarmed started to run toward me, but the girl grabbed his collar and pinned him to the ground. The boy pushed the girl off of him, and in a few seconds they were wrestling.

Wonderful. Now my only chances of living were holding each other in a headlock, while the old man's grasp continued to tighten around my throat.

After a few well placed punches, the girl had the boy pinned again. She looked like she was talking to the boy about me, because they both were stealing glances in my direction. The girl got up and stood in the doorway off the shop, motioning for the boy to come inside. He looked longingly in my direction, and then touched the top of the doorway with three fingers.