Changing Past

Chapter 26: Escape

                           Luke's P.O.V
I couldn't focus on anything but the sound of my feet hitting the old hardwood floors sprinting back down to the basement. I could barely hear Jalyn yelling at me to come back.

It sounded like someone was talking to me while I was underwater. My breath was short, and I had to stop once I reached 2 hallways that were at a crossroad. I shook my head as I tried to recall the path that we took to get to the exit.

It didn't seem like we passed that many halls, but now it was like I had been running for half an eternity trying to get to the one person I loved and cared about. When I heard the gunshots my stomach dropped, and I didn't really realize I was running until I came back across those creepy pictures.

I took a deep breath, and tried not to think about who the gunshots came from. I decided to take the hallway on the right, but quickly turned around when I saw that the walls turned a deep burgundy color. All of the walls we walked past were white or had pictures hanging from them.

I turned around, and started down the hall on the left while trying to calm my breathing down to a normal pace. I closed my eyes as I ran past the familiar blood stain on the carpet until my shirt caught on a machine.

I growled in frustration, and yanked off the sleeve not having the patience to carefully remove it the correct way. The first time I came through this room I tried to carefully step over the glass, but now I was practically stomping on it crushing it to pieces.

A few yards away I spotted the kitchen that apparently was used to make our food, and I froze when I saw her. She was crawling on the floor, and coughing while her arm was slumped over the oven. Her hair was in her face, and she could barely stand on two feet.

"Alex."

She coughed, and looked up at me causing her eyes to strain a red color. Her eyes were sharp, but filled with guilt.

She started to cry when she saw me, and it broke my heart when she fell on the floor from exhaustion. I ran over to her, and lifted her on my lap while she cried into me. My hands trembled as they brushed a piece of her oily and dirty hair out of her dust covered face.

My hands rubbed her back against the rough and scratchy fabric of the oversized, now tinted brown t-shirt. Every piece of me wanted her to transfer her sadness onto me so she wouldn't have to feel pain anymore. I hugged her tightly trying to somehow squeeze the pain out of her.

It's an indescribable feeling seeing the one you love completely broken and closed off to not only you but the entire world.

They don't want to let you in, but that's exactly what you want them to do.

To let them know that they can rely on you even though they don't want you to fight their battles. You want to know what you can do to make it better and how you can help, but in reality all you can do is be there to pick up the pieces someone else put there. I want to fight all of her battles and suffer any wound possible just so she won't have to, and I want to show her that it's okay to give yourself to someone fully.

I've given her all of me, and she has me wrapped around her finger, all I'm waiting for is for her to do the same. She cried into my shirt whimpering, and she groaned in pain.

"What's wrong?"

My eyes scan her entire body for any injury, but none come into my view. She pointed to her lower abdomen, and I lifted up her shirt careful not to apply any pressure to her stomach.