Fugitive (ON HOLD)

VI

Two days later, I am in Stockholm with Michael and Ashton. Luke decided to go back to Australia, wanting to be there for Sami during her recovery. Michael argued with him for a long time about it, claiming that he needed someone to be his hacker, just in case he needed one. Luke responded by saying he didn't want a life in jail.

Michael didn't say anything about this and I secretly believe that he takes more crap from Luke just because he cares for him. From what Ashton tells me, the two go back pretty far. Nonetheless, Luke ended up agreeing to help Michael from home as long as Michael promised to keep his assistance a secret from authorities. Now, it's just my best guy friend, a fugitive, and I in Sweden for God-knows-what. I decide to ask Michael why we are here.

It's an early day and the time is 7:03. I blink my eyes open and once again see Michael staring at me, this time from a corner of the room. His eyes are slightly hooded and he's in desperate need of sleep. This is the third day in a row that he does this. It seems to be some sort of pattern and I still haven't gotten used to it.

"Morning," Michael says, giving me a nod of acknowledgement. I knit my eyebrows together in confusion.

"You're watching me sleep every night. Why?" I ask, my voice a bit groggy. I sit up in the bed of the only bedroom in the empty, small house Luke happened to find for us and I stare at the now red haired boy. "And why do you dye your hair every day of the week?"

Michael rolls his eyes, pushing himself up from the wall. "You ask a lot of questions don't you?" he chuckles and takes a puff of the cigarette in his mouth. I roll my eyes and he seems to see the annoyance on my face, because he sighs and answers my questions. "I dye my hair often because I like to and because it'll hide my identity to any random citizen walking by. Now, to answer your other question, I watch you sleep because I can and if you question it again, I'll shoot your goddamn brains out."

I scoff and stand up, straightening the pajama bottoms that Ashton had bought me. "Well, if you ask me, red isn't the best color on your head. You look like a bloody tampon," I insult, glaring at him. He clenches his jaw and I notice just how prominent his jawline is. It is, in a strange way, attractive. Wait! What am I saying? This is some looney, rude, wanted criminal. I shouldn't be thinking like this.

"Oh, on another note, you don't scare me, Clifford. You make so many threats that you never carry out, I'm starting to wonder if you're really the big bad boy everyone claims you are. So far, in my eyes, you still look like the clueless teenager who disappointed his rich mommy and daddy," I say, feeling pretty brave. Just to prove that I mean what I said, I walk past the boy, opening the door.

I don't go anywhere though because soon, the door is slamming shut once again and I'm being pushed up against it. I gasp in surprise, not expecting any of this. That's when I feel it, the cold touch of metal against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut, a small whimper of fear leaving my lips. I hate myself for making such a sound. "Look at me," I hear Michael growl. When I don't comply, his free hand moves to my throat, squeezing it. "I said fucking look at me!" he practically commands. So I do.

I open my eyes and peek up at Michael. His eyes are alight with fury and his hold on my throat seems to get tighter and tighter. A slow, mad grin appears on his lips and a chuckle comes from his mouth. "I could so easily choke you, y'know. Make you beg for air. But you won't get any. You'll slowly fall unconscious and I'll watch as you do. Might be nice, having you quiet for once." I claw frantically at his hand that's wrapped around my throat, silently asking for breath. Oxygen, I need oxygen.

I start to see spots and I beg Michael with my eyes. I want... I need... And suddenly, my lungs are filling with air. It hurts a bit but I know I'll be fine. I drop to my knees, coughing and trying to obtain air at the same time. I look up at Michael and my eyes blow wide when I see the gun pointed at me. "A-Ashton!" I shout, scrambling up to my feet. I'm going to die, I know it.