NICHOLAS (old version)

chapter seven: rescue

Minutes bled into hours as I sat on the bed, waiting for Nicholas to appear like a knight in shining armor, with the futon and his company. I was lonely, and the animal wanted her mate close. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to see him smile again. I wanted it took.

Five became six, six became seven, and before I knew it, it was midnight. Still, no Nicholas, not even a scent. 

A girl had brought up food not long after I'd arrived at the room, a massive tray full of soups and breads and pasta. I'd made up for my skipped meals, eating the food, left with nothing to entertain me. He didn't have a television in his room, something I'd always had growing up. He hadn't any books, any games. I read the back of the movies in his box, then grew bored and tucked them away. I wasn't exactly sure why he had movies in his room but no television.

For a while, I snooped. I sniffed at all of his shirts, eyed up his collection of watches, even tested out his cologne. I was bored, and I didn't want to leave the room, not with the risk of running into Jasmine again. I wasn't sure how to handle her just yet, so I thought it best to avoid her.

I took another shower, changing back into the clothes from dinner. They were a few hours old, and I hadn't anything else to wear, save for Nick's clothes - and even then, they were far too large. While it was cute, the idea of him coming in to see me curled up in one of his button downs, they were too large to be very comfortable. I felt naked, exposed, in something that big.

At some point, I began to doze off on the bed, being lulled into a sleep I so desperately needed after the day I'd had, and then I heard it.

Gunshots. Screaming.

My entire body jumped as the world erupted into chaos. My sensitive ears heard the noise, the screaming, the pain. I wasn't sure I understood what was happening, but I sat up and scrambled for my glasses, pulling them on and glancing around the dimly lit room, the only light coming from the sky outside, the sun just beginning to burn up the sky. My body felt heavy, and it begged me to go back to sleep - but another gunshot sounded, and adrenaline filled me, making my chest tight and my hands began to shake.

More gunshots. Closer.

Nick had enemies. A lot of enemies. From the stories I'd heard, just about everyone wanted him dead. He'd killed this one and that one and some other one - if they were as true as everyone seemed to think they were, I shouldn't be surprised that someone wanted to come in and kill him. Or kill his brand new mate before they could make heirs.

I scrambled to my feet, unable to breathe as another gunshot sounded. Closer. Feet, I heard feet. Shouting that I couldn't distinguish from friend and foe. Screaming.

I looked around for a hiding place, some place that wasn't obvious. The closet, the bathroom, under the bed - all too obvious. I eyed the dresser for a moment before running towards it, laying flat on my back and shimmying beneath it. It was a tight fit, my head forced to the side, not much room for my chest to expand and breathe. 

The door slammed open and bodies moved in. The smells were jumbled as I tried to differentiate them. I could recognize a few from the dining hall, very faint, but then, one by one, three began to stick out.

Shit.

"Where the hell is my daughter?" I heard my mother shout, smelling gunpowder in the air just as strongly as her own scent. She had a gun, and she'd pulled the trigger. A lot.

"I don't know!" A girl began to sob, the noise quickly becoming a whimper. I gave a grunt and the room went silent, forcing my head out from under the dresser. Slowly, like a phoenix, I slid my body out, staring at the scene in horror.