If Only

Chapter Seven

I never took my eyes off the man. He jerked to a sudden stop when he heard the name. I watched him turn his body slightly. It was as if he had a want to answer me face to face, but he turns to make his way out the door instead.

As the man left the room, I could hear a familiar voice once again, his hollering voice ringing through my ears.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Benjamin.

He had just turned the bend and found someone stepping out of the room he left me in.

My eyes widened in shock and my body trembled in fear. Richard, or should I say, the man who untied me, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me along the corridor. I was a little dizzy, but I ran along with him, turning my head slightly to see Benjamin fumbling for his gun.

When we reach the end of the corridor, I heard the bang. The shot rang through the air like a bomb explosion by my ear. I turned to see the bullet flying towards me like an airplane at take off.

In a split second, the man had me flung behind the wall into safety and I heard the bullet embed itself on his body. I could picture droplets of blood splattering on the point of contact. The impact pushed him forward and he staggered, he seemed to have expected it though. His eyes widen, fury was building up in him, no different from a volcano about to explode. I imagined his eyes turning a deep bloodshot red but he took a deep breath and pulled me along the corridor again. We didn’t turn back. We just ran and ran and ran.

From behind the man, I could see his features appearing into the light now and then as we ran. His eyes were a captivating blue – a perfect yet so imperfect shade of sky blue. His high cheekbones and messed up hair seemed to fit the situation so perfectly. Well, we were in a situation. I could feel the firm grip he had on my hand. I didn’t know why but his hand in mine seemed to send me a shot of comfort, to tell me it would all be fine. He did not speak a single word, but I seemed to hear him tell me to stay calm.

My attention was driven to the gunshot he took for me. I could see the fresh scarlet blood staining the cloth around his wound. I remembered the injury around his stomach area. What happened? Who was he? Why did he save me? Was he… Richard? He pushed me into another room to hide from danger, slamming the door shut behind him. Upon the closure of the door, he toppled on the dirty floor. Blood was oozing out of the gun wound at his scapula and I could see a knife wound near his stomach area. He had his hand over his wound, an attempt to hold and cover his knife wound.

“Run.”

He spoke for the very first time – his voice was low and deep, yet it held this softness in it, this fragility which made him sound weak.

Run? Run where? Where was there for me to run?

“You know I won’t leave you here…” It sounded too obvious already.

“Richard.”