Fly High | ✅

30 | Sizzle

◈A D R I A N◈

I was numb.

Led only by pure fear, I kept moving forward without sparing a backward glance. I was afraid of seeing the helpless body lying motionless on the cold, hard ground. Afraid of those lifeless eyes that had myself imprinted as their last image would haunt my living hell forever.

My heavy legs, as if shackled with guilt, dragged me away from that godforsaken place. Like a bunch of scared crows, we fled the scene before you can say "Stop".

Tap tap tap.

Our footsteps were the only to break the peaceful quiet as we sped down the street to destination unknown. My eyes unwittingly searched for two persons.

Zax and Damon.

One, I wanted to find Zax and ask him what the fuck was going on because, as much as I hated to admit it, he seemed to be the only sane person around.

And two, I wanted to stay the fuck away from Damon.

Now that we were all witnesses to Damon's crime, I doubted he would bat an eye at the next swing on the skull. I really didn't want my head to be cracked open like a piñata.

My eyes darted left and right continuously as I kept a lookout for a chance to slip away. It would be less conspicuous than running away with them.

I spotted a dark clearing up ahead, the perfect escape. Feeling torn, I abandoned my wish to look for Zax since surviving remained as my top priority.

Little by little, my feet inched to the side with every step, away from the pack. Inhaling a deep breath, I held it in and sprinted off to the east.

I ran as fast as I could, not daring to stop even if my lungs were burning or my calves were cramping. All I could think of was to get away from the clusterfuck I'd managed to get myself into.

Just as I was rounding an unfamiliar corner, someone gripped my hand and yanked me into a narrow alley. The world spun before my eyes as strong hands pushed me hard against the damp wall. Before I could let out a scream, a gloved hand clasped over my mouth.

The gloved hands hinted me enough on the identity of my captor even if I couldn't see his face. The air was silent saved for my racing heart and harsh pants. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see the bloody bat he was holding.

Fear had me shaking like a dried maple leaf broken from its stem, carried away against its will by the wind. My shuddering breaths slowly lost control and slowly morphed to choked sobs. The fingers tightened their grip unforgivingly.

"Shh," he whispered.

My eyes shot open at his voice. It wasn't the silky, charming voice that belonged to Damon's. It was Zax's rough, broken chords.

"Mmm!" I mumbled as best as I could, my fingers trying to pry his hand away futilely.

He gripped even harder and glared at me, his index finger pressed to his lips as a sign of silence. The loud, rhythmic clack of the boots sounded from the main street cleared my confusion.

Damon was going after me.

I laid my hands over Zax's and pressed against it in an attempt to prevent myself from making any reckless sound that would give away our hideout.