Red Cross

Chapter '1'

My tires screeched as I took a sharp corner, and came up right on his butt. He was going an easy 70mph through an area barely wide enough for a motorbike to ride through let alone a Lamborghini Miura. It's custom flat black exterior prevents street, or headlights from reflecting off and exposing the driver. He was cautiously trying to maneuvering through an alley without a dent to his flawless spoiled rich kid car, unlike my Aston Martin v8 vantage, it's a tight squeeze but I am able to keep up with him.

We rounded the last corner before the straight away and he brake checked me and caused me to almost rear end him. I've done it only once before, and that was enough to learn your place around these parts. I went home that night with two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and jaw, and blue and black bruises covering more than half my body. I learnt two things that day... 1. Never rear end a rich brat.
And 2. That baseball bats hurt worse than fists.
We pulled around to the three mile stretch and gunned it. I kept trying to get around him but it was like he could see my every move before I even made it. Cutting me off at the last second every time. I decided to try a new trick I'd been learning, but never completed successfully, spinning in a donut around the the opposing car and righting yourself in just enough time to pull ahead. I was just as shocked as my competitor looked as I passed by, giving him a wink. I straightened and floored the gas, jumping to 80... 90... 95... I passed the finish line and pulled around and made a few donuts just out of spite. There was about six jacked up trucks, and luxury cars out here and they all had underaged half drunk guys and girls sitting on the hoods, trunks, and beds. Most of them were only half dressed.

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I wheezed as another blow hit my already broken ribs. My fists were clenched onto nothing but air, which was ironic since that was, at the moment, the only thing my lungs couldn't grasp. They'd finally stopped. A foot stepped on my back just above the area where the ribs had broken. They pressed hard as they knelt down. I gasped, the air still knocked out of me. Cigarette smoke stung my swollen eye as he breathed it into my face. Blake put out the hot end on my shoulder and threw the short end on the dirt. He stepped off and snapped to his possy. Two of the stronger guys grabbed my arms and pulled me up and holding my limping body in a standing position. My head hung and I still gasped for the air to return to my lungs. With the dirt, smoke, and car fumes I'd been inhaling, that with the fact I still couldn't breathe caused my lungs to burn like fire. "Keep'm up." The boy commanded his friends. He slugged my cheek, "you best stick to the plan, or someone's liable to get hurt."
I coughed blood and spat it on his shiny white shoes. He physically tensed and grabbed my head by the hair and slammed his knee into my stomach, he only hit it for a few seconds before hitting a much more sensitive area and causing me to inhale deeply and start to double over. He brought his knee again between my legs. I was finally able to breathe and now wished I couldn't.

When they felt like they were done with me they dragged me to a dumpster and threw me inside. It smelt like rotten food, and dirty feet. I landed on something pointy and hard, and it dug into by back. They shut the lid, cutting off the only light. I tried to get up but put my hand through an pile of overly ripe tomatoes, and other things that I couldn't tell what they were. The engines roared as the guys peeled out and returned to their mansions. Every movement sent new shots of fire up my side and through the rest of my body. All I could do is lay there. Breathing hurt. After a few minutes of getting myself under control I slowly pulled myself out and fell on the pavement. The air got knocked out of me again and I writhed on the floor trying to get it back and gasped when the air eventually returned. I crawled across to my car, I felt around for my keys before remembering that Blake had taken them for "safe" keeping. I laid on the ground and slid myself beneath the V8's back end. I pulled a makeshift lock out tool from the underside of of the trunk which I'd placed there for such a turn of events. Removing it from the magnet I shimmied back out and pulled myself up and unlocked it with ease, this wasn't my first rodeo. After I replaced the tool I pulled myself into the front seat. I shut and locked the door, I maneuvered myself into a position and began to hotwire my car. After a few minutes of electrical zaps and throbbing fingers I finally got the thing to state working. I got back up and put the car into gear. Every slight, or hard movement shot more pain into my head, and side, and everywhere else.