zombieland ↬ l.hemmings

[07]

[chapter seven . hannah's pov]

I let out a shaky breath, restraining from letting a scream depart from my mouth as I dropped the items I held, to the ground. I tried to speak, although I couldn't form coherent words. My brain wasn't functioning. Why? I had a fucking gun pressed to my head and was on the brink of death. Whoever this was could end everything right now and I had no possible way of preventing it. Not that I wanted to. The world had gone to hell. There wasn't really anything to live for anymore. Other than- stop it.

"Well? Answer the god damn question," The person shook me, a whimper leaving my lips.

"Hannah... My names Hannah," I cried out.

"How fucking old are you?!" They bellowed in my ear.

"Fifteen!" I screamed, terrified for my life.

They let go of my trembling figure, spinning me around before pressing their brown boot to my stomach and shoving me to the floor bellow. I collided with the tile floor, my arms and legs spreading out in a star shape. I hadn't even had the chance to take in whoever it was' features. It was all so quick before I was a shaking mess of pathetic human on the fucking floor.

I diverted my gaze from his toned, clothed legs to meet a pair of green irises staring down at me. They held nothing but blank emotions. His brown, curly hair was long, brushed back with a bandana wrapped around his head. He wore a large white shirt, stained in both dirt and blood while a duffel bag was worn around his shoulder containing what looked like weapons.

"What's your name and age then?" I spat, scrambling up onto my knee's.

"It's none of your business," He growled lowly.

"Fuck. You," I seethed, gritting my teeth as dusted off my pants.

"I would... but you're not even legal, precious," A smirk played on his lips, revealing both deep and prominent dimples. "Now listen up," He crouched before me, using the tip of his gun to hold up my chin while his tense gaze lingered over my own. "I'm running low on petrol and even lower on ammo... How many miles you got left on the convertible?" He questioned, turning to face out the translucent window panel behind us where I could clearly see the car.

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm holding a fucking gun to your chin!" He raised his voice once again.

"Go on... Shoot me... I dare you," I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes.

He placed his finger on the trigger, staring me deeply in the eyes. Minutes passed and we stayed in the same position, his teeth holding tightly onto his bottom lip to the point where blood slowly trickled to the edge of his plump, red mouth. Even though I was hoping he wouldn't, I knew that if he were a normal, kind-hearted human being, he wouldn't shoot me. He didn't have the guts.

"Fuck!" He stood to his feet, latching on his hair furiously.

He shoved one of the isles, causing all the magazines and mechanical appliances stacked up to fall to the ground with a loud clatter. He then turned to the other isle which he shoved, candy and chocolates tumbling onto myself. I grumbled, throwing the items off me in his direction, whatever 'his' name was. I didn't give a shit. He was scaring me and the only thing I wanted to do was run away from him.

"Take the god damn car and leave. That's what you wanted, right?"

He turned to face me, guilt playing on his features.

"No second thoughts, mate. Just go, alright." I sighed, combing my hair with my slender fingers.

"Whatever," He shook his head, chucking me his pistol and a barrel of ammo.