Mr. Popular and I

Chapter Forty-Six - The Colour Red

River

       My feet took off before my brain could process anything other than the fact that the gunshot came from the woods.

       The gunshot came from the woods.

       The gunshot came from the woods.

       Lea is in the wood house.

       That is all I can think of right now, however I am finally grateful that today my legs have a mind of their own and start working before my brain does. I sprint, and as fast as I possibly can, past Georgia and push through the huddles of guests who are either looking at me or in the direction of the sound with confusion. The adrenaline rushing through my blood is feeding my legs to move even faster.

       Run, River. Run faster.

       I now wish that I had a smaller garden as sprinting the length of the grass takes me at least thirty seconds before my body pierces the entrance of the woods. Crunching and cracking sounds from the leaves and twigs as my soles crush them with every stride, but mine are not the only footsteps I hear. There's more from my right.

       "River!" I hear Jake call; I freeze in my tracks as Jake and Ky emerge from amidst the thick tree trunks surrounding me. "What was that?" He stops before me, eyes wide and shoulders heaving up and down as he catches his breath.

       "Where's Lea?" I shout at them. 

       The burning pain of sprinting as fast as I did is starting to attack my lungs but that's the last thing I'm worried about.

       "We don't know we just got here," Ky pants. He's been crying, that why his blue orbs have turned to fire.

       I don't wait around anymore, I need to get to Lea. Without saying another word, I take off towards the wood house once again, as fast as my legs can carry me. My brain is a foggy mist, but I know that was a gunshot I heard and my gut feeling tells me something is seriously wrong. The boys are behind me as we dart to the wood house.

       Reaching for the door handle with shaking hands, I fling the door open.

***

Lea

Five minutes ago

       "Nick, don't do this," I plead with him and hate how jittery my voice sounds.

       He squeezes his lids shut, ridding his eyes of a collection of tears that drop down to wet his cheeks.

       "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." The sentence weaves through his clenched teeth. "What is there left here for me?"

       I try not to look at the gun within his hand that is facing the floor, however the metallic part of it reflects the stream of sunlight shining through the window of the ceiling, almost blinding me of sight and of courage.

       "We're here for you, we can help you." I swallow the nervous lump clogging my throat, but another replaces it soon after.

       "You haven't helped me!" He shouts, making me instinctively jump backwards and my heart shake. "River hasn't helped me." His voice quietens.

       I can either stand still, rooted in my place, or I try to get the gun from him.

       You can't jump and hold him back, he'll pull the trigger as soon as you move and even if he doesn't, he's much stronger than you, you can't take the gun from him.