I'm jolted awake by the sound of a gunshot.
Am I finally dead?
I close my eyes again
My chair is sideways on the floor. Dried blood scratches my face.
Light floods into the room.
Go away.
Don't come back.
A hand touches my face. I don't open my eyes. I jerk my head around, trying to escape the hands.
They are not the hands of my captor. They are warm, and the nails are smooth.
A distorted voice speaks to me.
"I'm going to get you out of here."
I shake my head.
Someone unties my hands. The hands that touched my face were now holding my hands. The voice was talking, but not to me.
Sirens blared in the distance.
Have I been found?
The hands grew arms that lifted me from the cold ground.
I think I'm dead.
I try to open my eyes.
The arms are warm and comforting.
I could just....
Drift...
YOU ARE READING
New York- Where Dreams are Made
General FictionCharlotte Spencer is a small town girl. She dreams her entire life of going to New York. Her life in the town she grew up in isn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows. She struggles to make it out of the horrid place and fight her way to the top. S...
