Fugitive (ON HOLD)

VII

The next few hours aren't interesting at all. Ashton and I fall asleep for who knows how long and only one person haunts my dreams; Michael Clifford. In my first dream, I'm watching as Michael's being dragged away in handcuffs from his own party, a memory from an event so long ago. Michael's scared and frantic eyes leave burn marks on my brain, I don't ever think I'll forget them.

In my next dream, Michael's sitting, alone and cold, in his jail cell, his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to block out the devils that are his thoughts. Young Michael's piercing voice breaks through the silence and Older Michael puts his head in his hands, tugging at his hair.

"Daniel! Daniel!"

My second dream swirls into my third and there's nothing but darkness. Nothing but the sound of police sirens, Michael's gun from this morning, and the pained cries from Michael. Then I hear something I hadn't noticed earlier.

"Ashton! Ashton!!" Michael calls out, worry edged in his voice. I can't tell if his voice is a dream or reality right now. Though whatever it is wakes me up. I arouse from my uncomfortable sleep and blink up at the ceiling.

Ashton wakes up as well and looks at me in groggy confusion. I simply hold my finger up, telling him to keep quiet. That's when we hear it again; Ashton's name coming from the front door. I know for sure it's Michael. Both Ashton and I scramble up from our spot on the floor and we rush to the door. Ashton opens it and we see none other than Michael Clifford, clutching a bleeding left arm. I gasp in surprise and Ashton just stares.

"Well, are you two just going to stare at me like retards or are you going to give me room to walk in?" Michael snorts, glaring at the both of us still. I move back and Ashton helps guide Michael inside.

"Claire, look inside my bag for a first aid kit. Luke packed us some stuff we might need just in case something like this would happen," Ashton says, moving Michael's arm away from the wound. I see the red gash and my eyes go wide with worry. Luckily, I know how to fix it. I get the first aid kit out and I look back at Ashton.

"Ash go rinse out Michael's arm in the kitchen sink," I say, opening the case and looking through it's contents, making sure everything I need is inside. Bandages, needle, disinfectant, yada yada yada.

Once Ashton and Michael get to the kitchen, I hear them start talking. Ashton's scolding Michael I think.

"Damn it, Mikey, what happened?? What were you doing out this late anyway? It's fucking three in the morning!"

"We needed money Ash, you know that. I had, I had to. Now we can leave! What I did was good, this is just a minor setback."

"Minor setback?! Dude, you could've bled to death! What happened?"

I hear Michael sigh before he continues. "Luke and I were talking on the phone earlier today and he said there's a book store not too far from where we are. They don't have security cameras and they close at midnight. So around one o'clock this morning, I left. I broke through a window to get in and I guess I was in a rush to leave because my arm got cut pretty bad on some glass from the window when I was climbing out."

Ashton sighs. "I can't believe this."

"Man, listen! This is a good thing! I got a shit ton of Swedish money and we can leave tomorrow!" Michael counters.

I try to ignore the fact that Michael called the Swedish currency 'Swedish money' instead of 'Swedish Krona' and I wait until he and Ashton return from the kitchen. Ashton sits Michael down in front of me and for a moment, we stare at each other. His eyes look almost brown in the dim light but they burn brightly into mine, daring me to say a word.