The President's Daughter

4

Chapter Four

I wrap Jayla in my arms and she cries on my shoulder while I smooth her hair. I hold her close, tight to my side. She is all I have left. The rest of my family is dead, but I have her at least. We are the only survivors. We are the two they missed. What if they come for us? What if they have to finish the job? I think back to the crowd. They fired at them too. What is going on? Why were we being attacked? Power. My father warned me about this. That people who are power hungry would do anything to satisfy that hunger. Including murder a 15 year olds entire family, accidentally missing her and her baby sister. Not to mention all the people who also lost someone they loved. This was all too much. I'm not strong enough to handle this! I've never been strong. I'm weak. Fragile. Powerless. Brotherless. Fatherless. Motherless.

I'm just about to drift off to sleep, because I realize I am really tired, but the banging on the elevator door wakes me up. My heart starts to race, my leg starts to shake.

"Jayla, wake up," she does as she is told. I stand up and look for the gun, which is lying under Dulce's arm. I hesitate to grab it but once my fingers brush against the cold metal I make a promise to myself. No one is going to touch Jayla. She is the only one I have left and no one is going to take her away from me. I'll kill who ever even looks at her. I push Jayla behind me and point the gun at the door. I hold my breath and try to steady my body, failing miserably. The doors start to open. Now the moment of truth.

"Step back! Or I will shoot!" I yell at the men trying to get to me and Jayla. But they don't stop, they even open it more.

"I mean it!" I shout even louder. The doors are finally opened and I fire at the first person I see, hitting him in the hand. He swears under his breath. I then point the gun to the other men. They raise their hands over their heads. I stare at them. There are 3 of them. One on the ground, holding his hand that I shot. I notice he couldn't be older than 19 years old. A hint of guilt comes over me, but is instantly replaced with anger. The other two are large and look like they are in their 40's.

"Who are you?" I ask. But they don't pay attention to me. Their eyes are fixed on the pile of bodies that lay at me feet.

"Oh. My. Gosh." is all they say before they drop to their knees next to my dead family. I shot at them when they get too close, missing on purpose.

"Don't you dare touch them!" I shout. They back away, but I see tears in their eyes. "Now answer my question. Who are you?"

"I'm frank, that's Josh," says the larger man, pointing to the man behind him then pointing to the boy holding his hand that is now bleeding uncontrollably.

"And that is Mike. We came to help. After the men fired upon us, we figured you would need help." I take Jayla's' hand but still push her behind me as we step out of the elevator. My gun still raised high.

"Leave us." I say but they stay where they are.

"You dare disobey me?!" I shout.

"Excuse us, your presidency, but we are at war. You need protection. And we would give our lives for you any day. Please let us export you to your home, where it is safe." I hesitate. How do I know I can trust these people? But I really don't have a choice. My best chance is to go with them.

"Okay. Let's go."

They lead us to a car right next to the stage, Mike goes in first. Then Jayla, then me. Frank and Josh take the front. I turn to mike. Tears were in his eyes and his hands and pants covered in blood.

"I'm sorry I shot you." I say.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am. I'm fine." I can't tell if he is lying or not.