Dumbstruck

Chapter 1

They’re behind me, aren’t they? My feet take off just as that thought passes through my mind. Staying to find out what they have in mind is not on the today’s to do list. I skid, almost running into the worn, brick building as I turn the corner. I can’t stop running, yet I know that they would always win in the end. Brick walls pass me by as my feet pound against the concrete sidewalk. I cross the black tar road, trying to throw them off, but obviously it doesn’t work. The hoard of men are still behind me, following my every step. My heart is beating faster, faster, faster, but I couldn’t get them off my trail. My face, growing redder by the minute as I keep running.

I can’t take it anymore. Why are they doing this? Can’t I just get some time alone without these morons after me at all time. All I want is just a little fun, that’s it. I find it a relief that these streets are empty, however they provide little comfort with these men chasing after me. No one will know I’m here, but no one will know that they are too. I keep running, they can’t catch me, but to be honest, they probably can. I can’t really let that happen though.

By now my dark hair is dishevelled- the wind spoiling the time and effort I spent perfecting it in the morning. What a shame, all that gel gone down the drain. My plain white shirt just flows in the breeze as I run, it’s simplicity drowning out the weight of my problems. I turn my head, curiously peering back as I ran. Another mistake made by yours truly; they start to yell. My name echoes off of the buildings around us and I keep running.

“Ryan Fox!” One yells.

“Mr. Fox, one picture please!”

“Sing for us!”

“Ryan! My daughter loves you, can I get your autograph?”

“How’s the world’s biggest pop star doing?”

I don’t answer them, I don’t need to. I naturally scoff when the last line is yelled out, yet I still puff my chest out when I hear it. Many before me have taken that title, but hey, it’s nice to hear that I am considered to be up there with the big shots. Nevertheless, it’s merely another overstatement they use to try and coax me to stop and talk to them. They think I’ll give in so easily, everyone does. I’m not a person to them, only money that can be made with a photograph, yet sometime in the future I know I will give in.

I keep running, but I know I can’t keep this up. They can, but me? I don’t think so. Hazel eyes scan my surroundings, looking for a way out or at least an adequate hiding place. Anything will do as paparazzi are not that hard to evade once they lose sight of their prey. Hiding is my best option, but a small irritated sigh escapes my throat as I keep searching. Nothing. Nothing but gray walls and apartment complexes. How did I even get to the middle of nowhere? What happened to the brick? My mind must have ignored my surroundings as I escaped. Still, the optimistic part of me urges me to make apartment complexes work as capable cloaking device.

The paparazzi are still behind me and some quick, irrational thinking leads me into this one apartment complex with gray, bland walls. I squat behind a large, leafy bush, mentally thanking the owner for the fine attention towards landscaping and the bush I am crouched behind. This here is not one of my finer moments. I pull my arm closer to my torso and flinch as a brief pain hits me. My eyes flicker down to my forearm where dark red blood is beginning to seep out of a new cut. All right, bushes are a good idea, but bushes with thorns are not a good idea.

Slowly, I stand up from the nook behind the stupid thorn bush. The nerves in my side buzz with excitement that causes me to flinch as I collide with a doorknob. My hand reaches out to give it a twist, fully knowing that there’s a high chance that it will be locked, but it isn’t. I’m inside in an instance, it’s just a supply closet, nothing else. Of course, I am wrong again. This supposed supply closet is actually someone’s dark apartment. At least no one’s home or else I’d have a lot of explaining to do. A lot of explaining for the cops I presume and maybe even a judge.