His Fugitive

Chapter One - The Robbery

Dearra
"Alright, everybody get on the fucking floor, and put your hands up!" A masked man screamed after barging into the bank with a very large gun, and from my dad's childhood gun lessons, I could automatically tell that it was an AK-47.

I gasped and ducked behind the counter, praying that the masked menace wouldn't notice me.

"Get the fuck up!" He barked as he held the long barrel of the gun up to my head.

I felt a tear race down my cheek and my hands begin to shake as I waited for him to tell me what he wanted me to do.

"Here," He tossed me a black plastic garbage bag  and lifted his mask just above his eyelids. "Put all the fucking money y'all got in here!"

From the look on his face, the bank robber had nothing to lose. He had an animalistic expression that let me know he would do anything for this robbery to be successful so I nodded and ran over to the golden bank vault.

I unlocked the vault and threw as many stacks of hundreds that I could into the black bag until the back was so heavy and full that I could barely drag it back over the the masked gunman. I ran back over and attempted to toss him the garbage bag all the while sneakily brushing my hip past the emergency 911 button that was installed underneath the counter.

When I analyzed my surroundings, I noticed that two other masked men ordered two other bank tellers to fill their trash bags up as well and the tellers didn't hesitate, despite them not having any weapons threatening them.

"Don't try you nothing! I will blow your fucking brains out! test me if you want to!" My gunman pointed the barrel of the gun back up to my head to get my attention away from the other bank tellers and back on him.

I immediately whipped my head back over to his face and sobbed with my hands still raised sky high, "I won't, I won't!"

He backed away slowly with the gun still pointed in my direction after another one of the bank robbers yelled out some sort of code and once he, and the three other bank robbers were gone, the bank turned into a zoo. People were running around, screaming, and some were even on their phones taking pictures of the ransacked building.

The police rushed in with their guns out and immediately, I put my hands up like before. About fifteen minutes later, the owner of the bank ran in. He ordered that the police find out who committed the crime and if it was an inside job or not. The bank owner was so infuriated that spit flew out of his mouth as he banged his fist against a bank teller's counter.

I was taken in for questioning and it was obvious that because I was the only bank teller to have a gun held to their head, I was assumed to be involved. Once we were in the small and plain beige themed interrogation room, a white male detective glared at me.

"Let's get right to the point. Ms. Jones, you were involved in this bank robbery and you know who did it." The detective accused me with an evil looking glare that took over his face.

"Excuse me? I don't mean to offend you or anything, sir, but you're wrong." I returned with a just as evil looking glare, appalled that me, the victim in this situation was being treated like the one of the perpetrators.

I was the only bank teller who's life was threatened with a gun being shoved in their face and they had the nerve to question me instead of going out and finding out who really did this?

"You insinuating that I'm a liar, Ms?" He questioned me with a now eerily calm looking facial expression that almost sent chills down my spine, but I wasn't backing down.

"No sir, all I'm saying is that I didn't have anything to do with this, that's all." I shrugged, "And unless you have evidence, this meeting is over. I don't have to say anything without a lawyer present."

"I guess you're right." The detective sent a sly mean mug that let me known that he'd been stumped before standing up and showing me to the door.

The detective glared at me as I walked away from the police station which I responded to with a sarcastic friendly smile. The second the detective disappeared into the police station again I felt something heavy and metal connect with the back of my head. A hand that was covered with a soft cloth that smelled of an unfamiliar sweet smelling chemical was held over my nose and mouth as I felt myself being swept off of my feet and my hair being yanked on. I tried to scream but nothing would come out, due to the hand squeezing my lips shut.

"Shut up." I heard a male voice whisper in my ear before I blacked out.