I'm far ahead of Sawyer. I can hear him yelling my name, but I'm too scared to stop. I don't have a plan, I just took the damn watch.
I keep running, afraid that if I stop Sawyer would never forgive me or kill me.
It's getting darker the deeper I run into the woods. I slow down my pace. I don't hear Sawyer and I completely stop. I calm my breathing and stay quiet.
I'm lost but the good thing is I lost Sawyer.
I look down at the watch and open it.
"Opal, don't." Sawyers harsh words echo and I look up, startled.
I don't have time to react, my hands shake and the last thing I see is Sawyer running after me, shouting. Then black, nothingness.
I feel like I'm thrown against a wall. My eyes immediately open and I land on something hard.
"Ow.." I groan.
I hear a groan and I look down and see that Sawyer is beneath me.
My head feels groggy and I quickly get off of him. I look around, the air is colder. It's cloudy, smells different to.
"What did you do?" Sawyer seethes and I turn to him.
"What did I do? Where are we?" I question.
"Where's the watch?" Sawyer says, dusting off. I hold my hand out to him and he aggressively grabs the watch from my hand.
He pulls me to him and pushes me against a wall, his hand over my mouth. His body is pressed against mine and that's when I hear it, a horse?
I see a carriage and a horse pass by us, and my eyes widen.
We wait until it passes and we both breath out.
"Stay here.." Sawyer warns and he walks out from the ally way. The street is uneven, muddy and looks like cobble stone.
I walk slowly the opposite direction, but Sawyer pulls me back.
"I tell her stay and she walks away..." Sawyer mutters to himself, pulling me back. His hold on me is tight.
A man with a top hat walks pass us and stops to stare at us.
"Hey, where are we?" Sawyer asks the man. The man isn't much taller than Sawyer, he has a black bushy mustache and he is wearing weird clothing. He seems so old fashion with long trousers and a top hat.
"New York..." The man hesitantly says. He lowers his round glasses and eyes us warily.
"You're not a sneezer?" The man asks, getting defensive. Sneezer?
Is everyone afraid of getting sick?
"No sir." I say, even though I don't know what that word means, but the man disregards me.
"What year is this?" Sawyer asks, and the man eyes me up and down.
"Is that your strumpet?" The man asks, and he pulls something from his belt, a wallet.
My eyes widen, he thinks I'm a prostitute. No wonder he didn't care for what I said.
Sawyer grabs me by the arm and moves in front of me, getting taller.
