Why Are We Running?
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- Parts 1
"Catch!" He threw me the keys while we're running so fast. Despite the far distance between us he still threw it to me accurately. Maybe being in the football team really did pay off.
I ran as fast as I could when I heard the police sirens became louder and louder as seconds gone by. We've been trying to get out of this hotel for minutes and I'm losing the chance to catch up on our group. I'm crying loud to release the deep fear of what we've saw and done. And It honestly didn't help with my running, the side of my ribs starts hurting from running and It came into an end as a reached the balcony
"Damn! Fuck! I missed the stairs." I fell on my knees crying.
"DALTON! I DON'T THINK I COULD MAKE IT!" I screamed and he stopped running signaling the others to continue.
"Blaire. Listen to me." He screamed. "Climb through the other side of that balcony rail and try to hang at a low distance."
I'm nervously shaking but I did what Dalton told me and I climbed. I tried to hang on to the cement of the balcony and let go. I fell hard on my butt, I winced at the pain.
Dalton smiled at me and continued running towards the car. And I ran to get the bike. I let out a sigh. I can do this, I can do this.
I rode the bike and started it.
"I can do this"
I was a bit nervous as I ran it towards the back gate, the bike was wiggling but after a few minutes, I was running the bike at a high speed. finally catching up at Dalton and the others.
I don't know how we could prove ourselves as not guilty, but the police knows we killed that celebrity.
We didn't know who is, but we have to find out for ourselves, I don't know why or how, but we have to because if we don't. We'll end up in prison. Having death as punishment
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It started with hustling pool. He needed some sort of income. Living off the streets at twelve years old isn't easy in any respect, but it helps to have money. Then came the pickpocketing. It's amazing how much cash someone carries in their wallet at a time. Just a brief bump and he can easily slip a hand in a pocket. He'd have to use the credit cards quickly. He could match a signature well enough that a machine wouldn't care. It would only be a matter of time until the card was canceled, but he'd have it long enough to buy a new pair of shoes or a jacket in the winter. And the cash, he'd save that for a rainy day. Then came the shoplifting. He finds its easier to steal directly from the source. Hiding a twenty dollar shirt in a hoodie pocket was easier than finding the twenty dollars themselves, and showing up at the grocery store right when it opens and shoving an apple down his throat when no one was looking isn't as complicated as it sounds. It was never supposed to get violent. He was just trying to keep himself alive. He didn't expect them to be home. But then he made a game of it, and he never truly realized how high the stakes were - not until there were weapons involved. He did what he had to do. He snatched the knife, and what happened to the man, he'll never know. It was a nasty wound, though. If he did somehow survive it, he'll almost certainly never walk again. That day changed everything. It opened up a world of possibilities. He's been breaking the law for months, but it never occurred to him that he could just outright ignore it. He'll do what he has to do, and he'll do what he wants to do, and no law is going to stop him. And that's how this seventeen-year-old Gabriel Adams became the FBI's most wanted serial killer.
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