Jenna is asleep, in a sleeping bag and tied to the tree. Her soft breaths put me at ease. My gun is cradled in my arm, a metal lion. I shiver. In the summer, it's cold at night. I sigh and my breath turns to fog in front of me. The woods are picturesque and frozen in time. I'm afraid if I move, everything that happened will come back from the tree's shadows. Animals are crawling and making noise. Suddenly, everything goes silent. I shake Jenna awake. I don't make a sound.
"What is it?" Jenna whispers.
"Someone's here," I reply. I shove my pistol into my waistband and grab a flashlight before carefully climbing down. Jenna can't move. She's still hurt. When I jump down, I see that she's completely invisible. That's a relief. At least we're hidden. I take my gun from my waistband. The cold metal in my hands is ready for use. My frosty breath is a white puff.
Footsteps. Leaves and branches are crunching. I'm guessing it's a male. I pull the weapon up.
Breathe.
I've done this many times before. Why is this any different? That's when I see the bright blue eyes. I'm lost in a memory.
When I was ten, my little brother, Anthony, was three. It had been a mistake, but I had a little brother. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes. Adorable, harmless.
One day, I was playing on my bicycle in the street. A man came. Anthony, playing on the driveway, was cutely toying with a toy truck. The man was wearing all black and a hat that covered his face. He motioned me to him.
"Hey kid," he said, "what's your name?"
I didn't know what to say. I just stared at his hidden face.
Then, I heard Tony crying. But when I turned around, Anthony was gone. I whirled around and opened my mouth to confront the kidnapper, but he was gone as well. So then I packed up and hit the road.
But why was Anthony Mason Travers's eyes here in the tree, and seven years later?
My hands on the gun trembled. The footsteps were closer. Very close. I took a few strides and pointed the beam of the flashlight in the tresspasser's face.
Oh my God. Blue eyes so bright, blond hair so shiny. He looks about 10. No. Oh my God.
"Anthony?" I whisper.
"Jack," he breathes.
YOU ARE READING
Breaking Point
Teen FictionDusk isn't a criminal. He's not. Even though he escaped jail after 3 years, he's still not a jailbird. He's accused of doing something wrong. No one knows that, though. The person who blamed Dusk is the president. When he escapes, he meets the beaut...
