Her Fading Whisper ➽ Dylan O'Brien

Chapter 26

Filming had started once again. I hadn’t talked to Dylan. I don’t even think he knew I was back, for the moment he saw me, tears were shed from myself making Genna, my makeup artist, very angry. He ran to me and kissed me and I told him I was sorry and he asked, “for what?” and I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond.

“How about after filming we get out of here, so I can spend some time with you? I missed you so much,” Dylan suggested and kissed me again. It was heartfelt and tender.

I nodded. “Sounds great.”

But did it?

Dylan and I shooted our scenes. We finished a long filming day. Finally, we were let out of the building.

“Times square, I say!” Dylan announced as if he were a public debater.

I laughed. “Agreed, in the name of the lord!”

“Aye!”

I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. Dylan attempted to stop laughing considering he was driving and didn’t want to get us killed. We drove on in deep conversation, but the guilt was still there. I tried to let this one night go by without anything on my mind, though.

 

“...and then she freaked out, so I screamed, ‘bite me!’ and she literally did. . .” I finished my embarrassing story as Dylan continued laughing.

“That’s awful!” he exclaimed. “One time, I read Julia’s diary and she chased me up the stairs. I hid in my closet and she dragged me out, pinned me up against the wall and screamed in my face, pinched my arm, and bit me when I tried to run away. . .”

I laughed horribly. “Oh my god, I’m sorry but that’s hilarious,” I said.

I took Dylan’s hand and we walked more in Times Square. We took a picture of us kissing for a cameraman who put pictures of people on the big screen. We titled ours, “For love.”

“You seem really tense lately,” Dylan told me after a long conversation an hour later.

I tried to think up a good excuse. “Well, a lot’s been going on lately,” I told him, which was an understatement. Dylan raised an eyebrow, telling me to continue. “Um. . . my dad’s uncle died while I was in France, and we were pretty close,” I said, which was not untrue. Though he had not died while I was “in France” he still died a few years before.

“I’m so sorry, what was his name?” Dylan asked sincerely.

“Enrique, he was kind of the person who held my whole dad’s side of the family together,” I explained.

Conversations continued of deep thought and feelings. Stories shared, ideas exchanged. It was soon getting very late and Dylan and I were exhausted after the long day of filming.

“We should get going,” Dylan said, “I’ve explored New York City too much.”

“Agreed,” I responded.

We walked to the back of a building and through an alleyway. I sighed. “Dylan, where are we going?”

He chuckled, “It’s called a shortcut, stupid.”

“Offensive.”

“Love you”

“Awe, I love you too,” I said poking his cheek and he smiled like a little boy.

I laughed at our weird relationship. He put his arm around me as we walked through the shortcut to get to Dylan’s car.

Very suddenly, I heard a noise. A clicking. A gun trigger being held on to. I froze and so did Dylan. Then, a voice spoke. “Nice to see you again, Dylan.”

Dylan tensed up more and we both turned around. “Oh, it’s just you guys,” Dylan sighed, though sounding worse.

I didn’t not recognize the two men. I couldn’t see their faces. They were in all black, and one of the men held a gun. I noticed the other man didn’t have one. I was petrified.

“Just us?” The man without the gun said. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh, Dyl?”

Dylan didn’t respond, but held me closer to him.

“We’ve been looking a while for ya, Dyl.  . . you still owe us,” the man with the gun growled.

“Dylan, what’s he talking about?” I whispered.

“You, shutup,” one of them said, “Now answer us.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Dylan snapped. “And I’ve got it working.”

“Then give us the damn money.”

“I don’t have it right now, Brett. It’s in my bank, it’s called saving,” Dylan said sarcastically which I knew was not helping his case that was unknown to me. All I knew is that Dylan owed money to two thugs.

“It’s been nine months. We want it, and we want it now,” Brett said. He looked over at me and smirked. “This one’s nice. Still working with her? Have you told her yet? You already seemed to have given Tyler what he wanted.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably. “Shutup, Brett. Just lower the gun, it’s just money,” he tried to work something out. Fortunately, Brett obeyed and slowly lowered the gun and stuck it back in his belt. “I swear I’ll get it to you guys as soon as possible. Where can I find you?” Dylan asked nonchalantly. He was shaking, though, I felt it.

“I know what you’re doing Dyl, and it’s not going to work,” Brett said, his fingers closing around on the gun. “You’re trying to find out where we are. Then you’re gonna go flouncin’ down to the police station, rat us out, and get us all killed. Tell her, Dylan. Tell her or I’ll tell her myself. You already payed Tyler’s deal, our turn!”

I was so confused and scared and betrayed, I just wanted to be home.

“I’m going to if you just give me some more freakin’ time!” Dylan urged. “I’ll have it tomorrow.”

“You don’t get away that easily, Dyl. You shouldn’t have messed with the wrong guys. You can thank your buddy Tyler for that.”

I could see Dylan trying to mouth something to me and I strained to hear what it was, considering it was barely audible. “Run.. . car. . . police. . . come. . .” was all I heard, but I understood. He squeezed me tightly as to signal to me when to go, and I bolted.

I ran as fast as I could to the car that was not in sight. I heard noises and two gun shots. I didn’t know what it all was or what it could mean, but I continued running and crying. I was sobbing. I reached the car quickly and opened the door, shoving half of my body inside. My phone was in the car. I quickly took it and dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, my boyfriend’s in an alleyway and there are two men with guns, I don’t know what’s happening,” I ranted, my voice cracking between almost every word.

“Shh. . . honey calm down, it’s okay. Can you tell us where you are? Your name?”

“I’m in Times Square I don’t know where exactly, I think I’m somewhere behind Forever 21 or something and my name is Maddie, Maddie Hull.”

“Okay, we’re sending people over now, and you’re boyfriends name?”

“Dylan O’Brien.”

“Alright, honey, you hang in there and we’ll be right over.”

“Thankyou,” I said quickly and I hung up.

Keeping my phone, I ran back over to where Dylan was, hearing the sirens coming nearer. I came closer and could hear cries and it tore at my heart.

As I approached, I could see the two shadows of the men had departed. But Dylan was on the floor, crying, bleeding, and beaten to a pulp.