Runaway Lover // Andy Leo

Chapter Twenty-Six

Andy's P.O.V

My vision slowly focuses in the dim light of the room. I dully register the silence that settles over the space as I shuffle away from the table and the body that lies beyond it. As I move pain shoots out through my entire being and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying out in pain.

I look down at the source of the pain - a gunshot wound in my right shoulder. I try to ignore it and claw myself upright before taking off my hoodie and pressing it against the wound. The pressure makes my head spin as I stumble out of the dark room and into the corridor.

Sam. I have to get to Sam.

I walk as quickly as I can back toward the stairs that I saw on the way up, being careful to stay away from any scarecrows. Praying that I'm correct in my reasoning, I descend to the basement level of the building.

By the time I get to the bottom my arm has gone almost entirely numb from the pain and I greet the sensation happily. The stairway leads off into a concrete corridor that is dimly lit by small, orange wall lights. I hesitate as my boots connect with the concrete and listen to the silence, waiting for some sign that someone is down here. Just as I'm about to give up and pick a different floor I hear a shout that I instantly know as belonging to Taddie.

I pick up my pace to a jog as I make my way down the corridor, following the shouts that get louder and louder as I go further into the building. I eventually manage to find the source of the noise as I turn into a large room with a group of people gathered in the middle.

I immediately recognise the group and pick up my pace as fast as my shoulder will allow to get to them. The footsteps make Brent and Hayden turn, allowing me to see what they're all gathered around and send fear to my core.

"Sam!" Her name is out of my mouth before I can stop it and I sprint over, blocking out the pain coming from my shoulder. I push past everyone and throw myself at the glass casing, fear cursing through my veins.

Is she dead?

"What the fuck?!" I kick and punch at the glass, my limbs moving in a frenzy and out of coordination. I feel someone grab my arm and pull me away, but I swing my right fist around so that it connects with something - I don't know what - and continue my attempts at the glass.

"Dude, stop. We've tried it. The glass won't budge." I ignore Brent as he speaks, my eyes focused on Sam's limp body in front of me.

"I'm not leaving her to die!" I shout as I throw myself at the glass once more.

"She's already dead." Dave's voice is low and grim, and reaches my core. My limbs fall weakly to my sides, and I allow the pain from my shoulder to wash over me. It was bleeding heavily in the first place - now I can feel my own blood soaking my entire right arm.

I waver on my feet as my vision goes blurry. Brent rushes forward, but I hold out a shaky hand to tell him to stop. My own weight too much to handle, I sink to my knees in front of the glass casing.

"I'm so sorry." My brain doesn't match the voice to a name - maybe due to the blood loss.

A lump rises in my throat. Dead? No. She can't be. This wasn't her war to die in.

I look up, see her body, place a hand on the glass. Curl it into a fist. Hit the glass. Uncurl. My nail catches on something, I shift my gaze. Tilt my head slightly.

There. Barely visible against my blood that is smeared across the glass. The water distorts irregularly behind a section of the glass that is maybe the size of a dinner plate.

My arm feels like a lead pipe, and it takes what little strength I have left to move it two inches over. The movement makes my shoulder scream, and a wave of nausea washes over me that is too hard to resist.

My vision darkens and I sway slightly, my hand falling from the glass. I collapse into a heap with just enough time to hear alarmed shouting and the sound of shattering glass.