FAKE

three

Ross returns to my house around 10 PM.

But when he knocks on my door frantically I know something is wrong. I open the door for him and he rushes inside, closing the door for me with a window-rattling slam.

His back presses against the wooden door with his arms spread to the sides. His eyes are filled with panic.

"I have to go now." He tells me. His voices hitches and makes him, the fearless and cunning Ross, sound fearful.

"Why?" I ask, even though I will not get a response.

He walks briskly to the guest room, myself following in hopes of answers, and gathers up his few possessions: a messenger bag containing unknown items and his signature leather jacket.

A voice echoes through the dark outside of my house, joined by more, shouting angry threats and insults.

"Who is that?" I inquire again, growing anxious myself as the voices draw nearer and louder.

"No time. Bring a backpack. Clothing. And food. Only the necessities." Ross instructs me.

"But-"

"Now!" His voices raises in urgency.

I wander to my own room curiously, but follow his instructions. I find a ratty, old purple backpack. I throw in a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, undergarments, then go to the kitchen and pack cracker packets and a bag of almonds.

I fill a water bottle and stuff it in the side pocket as well, and when I turn around, Ross has his messenger bag slung over his chest with his jacket hanging out the side. I put on the backpack.

"Where are we going and wh-" A loud pounding interrupts my question, and Ross raises a finger to his lips.

"We know you're in there, blondie! Come out or I'll break down the door myself!" One of the voices shouts over the others.

He clamps his hand onto my shoulder and steers me back to the guest room, then peeks through the blinds on the window facing the small backyard.

Seeming sure of himself, Ross pulls the blinds up out of the way and pushed up the window quietly. Then, he hoists himself onto the ledge and drops down onto the grass silently. I copy his movements, and he slides the window shut after I am standing next to him.

Three words ring out through the dark that petrify me: "I see him!" I cannot move from the fear that grips me. Ross can see it.

His fingers close around my wrist and he wrenches me way from my statue like state and pulls me into a run.

They're yelling, chasing after us as we desperately look for ways to lose them.

I trip over the loose gravel and hit the ground hard, my hands scraping across the rock. My cheek stings since it was probably grazed too.

Then I remember to keep running.

Ross is pulling me to my feet, somehow having not left me behind for dead. Odd.

"Keep going, just keep running, I don't care if your feet hurt or if you fall again, just keep running." He hisses to me as we both begin another sprint away from the people chasing us.

A large chunk of solid material flies past my head. A rock.

Ross curses as smaller one directly makes contact with his elbow, splitting the skin on it.

And suddenly, my head is throbbing, the world is spinning, and I am disoriented like never before.

I stumble and fall into darkness, away from consciousness and the chaos I have been introduced to.