Protection (One Direction)

Chapter 1

Seven hours. Seven whole hours. That's how long it's been since the robbery started. I've been stuck in the corner with the guy in the beanie, who's name I learned is Harry. I've also been told the robber behind this is called James. The police are outside trying to make negotiations, but he isn't budging. Everything seems to be frozen.

"I want a helicopter." James repeats into the phone, the same sentence he's been repeating for the last seven hours.

The police would be idiotic to give him a helicopter, but he'd be more idiotic to take it. Sure, he could escape, but the cops could easily rig and track it. I know this- my dad was a cop, and he taught me everything he knew.

"Fine, have it your way. I'll just waste a hostage, maybe that'll get your undivided attention." He throws the phone down.

My stomach clenches in fear as his dark eyes flicker around the room, looking for his victim. His gaze falls on a female bank teller, Jamie, who I've known for the few years she's been working here. James strides across the marble floor, grabs her by the collar on her jacket, flinging her upward and into a small table. He pulls out a sleek, black gun from a pocket in his torn jeans and aims it directly at her chest. I close my eyes tightly, unable to watch, and scoot closer to Harry. He clutches my hand in response.

He won't really shoot her, will he?

My question is answered as two gunshots fill the room, as well as screams from both the victim and the hostages. One of the screams was my own. The scent of fresh blood fills the air, making bile rise to my throat, but luckily I'm able to choke it down. A low pain filled moan is heard before silence takes over.

Life number one was just lost.

Tears burn in the corner of my eyes as I choke back a sob. I look over at Harry, who's pale and rigid, but I can't bring myself to look at Jamie, or what's left of her. Once again, James picks up the phone, and demands a helicopter.

"I don't think you understand," He hisses. "The longer I wait, the more lives I take. Think of it as a rhyme. I take another in an hour." He hangs up, glaring at everyone. "As for the rest of you, you all saw what just happened. You better pray for a helicopter."

~*~*~*~*~

"It's been an hour, do you have my helicopter?" James asks, only to let out an agitated sigh. "Of course you don't." He throws down the phone, then reaches into his back pocket.

He pulls out a medium sized pocket knife and begins to play with the jagged edge. A smile forms on his lips as he points the knife in his next victim's direction. In my direction.

"Come here." He beckons with his knife.

I don't. I freeze; I can't move, I can't even breathe. Instead, Harry shakily shifts to a standing position, letting go of my hand in the process. My breath catches in my throat as he walks over to James, who glares at him in return.

"I didn't ask for you, I want her." He growls, pushing Harry back to our corner.

"I'm worth more!" Harry tries to reason, but sits down in his original spot anyway.

I shoot Harry a small smile, silently thanking him for trying, then stand up. My legs, which feel like jello, wobble as I grow closer to my soon to be killer. I look over to the older woman, whose clutching her child to her chest, and pray for them to be saved.

Three more steps.

Two more steps.

One more step.

I stand directly in front of James, looking at his dark brown eyes and blond hair, which is falling out of his cap. My anxiety worsens as he begins circling me, like an animal sizing up his prey. Would running help in this situation? No, it probably wouldn't, he'd catch me and kill me slower. More painful. Once he stands fully in front of me again, he smiles. A smile of pure evil.

A spike of adrenaline and impulses get the best of me, as I begin to run towards the front door, but manage to trip in the process. Having no time to pick myself up, I begin crawling as fast as I possibly could towards the door. Unfortunately, one of James' guards grabs my hair, jerks me upright, then pushes me towards James, who catches me by my waist. I try my hardest to get out of his grasp, but I can't. He's too strong.

I barely felt the impact of the knife, or hear the bloodcurdling screams, but what I did feel was the jagged blade dragging from the bottom of my right rib, to the top of my left hipbone. Stunned, I look down at my stomach, which is bleeding profusely. A small groan of pain escapes from my lips as I look up to James, the person responsible for this; my death.

The pain grows worse, from a soft throbbing, to a hot burning sensation. I clutch my stomach hopelessly, trying to get the burning to stop, but it only worsens! A strangled cry escapes my lips as my knees buckle and I fall to the floor. I let out another moan, holding my stomach tighter. Blood flows freely from between my fingers, staining them- and everything around me -a dark shade of red. And to think I had liked that color.

Unfortunately, this isn't like the books or movies, where you get hurt and immediately pass out, this is much, much worse. You feel every agonizing second. You wish you would pass out, or just die.

"One hour." James says into his phone, then leaves the room without another word.

I look up towards the ceiling, stricken with too much pain to come up with any rational thoughts. Picking up my head, I look around the room, from the woman and the child, to Harry, who makes eye contact with me. Wordlessly, he crawls over to me.

"Everything's going to be okay." He whispers.

Unable to answer, I shake my head lightly. I find myself growing more and more tired each minute passes by, soon, my eyes are to heavy to keep open. I close my eyes, lean my head back, and wait for my inevitable death.

"Don't do that, fight it!"

My grip on my stomach loosens as I begin to lose consciousness. Thankfully, the pain fades with it. I let out one more shaky breath before completely slipping into welcomed unconsciousness.

Life number two was just lost.