Head Strong

I DO NOT OWN THE PICTURE USED IN MY COVER. CREDS GO TO THE ARTIST. I REALLY WISH I KNEW WHO THAT WAS.

"What's the plan now? We're so screwed." The situation we're in was too impossible. We were backed into a corner.

The guy behind the mask answered. "Well, not everything is gonna go our way..." He genuinely looked defeated, even if I couldn't see his face.

"Well, we need to figure something out. Especially since you're injured. I highly doubt I'll be able to carry you. I could try, but I don't think we'll get far." I swore he looked like he was in pain.

"I'll be ok. You're the one who needs to stop. You are more injured than I am. I mean, look at yourself. You're falling apart. You're losing too much blood. Eventually you'll faint from the blood loss." He wasn't wrong. My arms were scratched up, my knees scraped, my head bleeding freely without stopping. Even my lip was bleeding a little, but it must've been because I was biting it from nerves.

"I'm fine," I stated plainly. The statement didn't hold, however. I tried to get up, but I fell to the ground, coughing up blood.

That's when he came up to me right in front of my face. "You're not ok. I need to get you to the nearest hospital in a cinch. But I have to do it without damaging anything inside you."

"I'm not giving up." I tried to get up again, but fell after feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen.

"Heather, stop. They're gonna be here any moment now. You need to be checked by a doctor. Something's wrong on the inside, not only the outside."

"Screw you. If you think I'm gonna stop, that's some crap." He was NOT gonna take me. He could be revealed to the world. No way.

His eyes held seriousness. "I'm doing this for you, ok? Stop being head strong." I couldn't. Not in a million years.

I felt very light headed all of the sudden. The last word I said before passing out was "No."

PG-13: some violence, censored cursing

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