Chapter 3 || Panic and Run

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Correction. Both of the men there point the gun at me. Adrian Black and his friend... or partner in crime. The girl kicks the tattoo-less one in this shin, pulling him aside. The tattoo-less one drags Adrian Black along with him.

Okay, my life has been spared for the next few minutes, I'm guessing. Hurray! Now, please Lord, forgive all my sins and spare my life until I'm wrinkly and old.

When the three are done with their group huddle, they turn to me. Adrian Black and the tattoo-less one seem slightly annoyed, while the girl looks triumphant. "You're coming with us," She tells me.

Whoa there! I'm not going with a group of murderers! That's begging for death to come and eat me up alive! I mean, sure, I might be delicious, but usually unhealthy things are yummy, so if Death wants to maintain a good healthy diet and live for eternity, it shouldn't eat trash like me.

I think I'm getting carried away.

"I'm not coming with anyone," I reply firmly. Well, would you look at that. A crippled girl who can't move without hurting all over is ordering around murderers with guns and black cars.

"We're kidnapping you," The tattoo-less one deadpans.

"Dear me," I deadpan back. Hey, I have an ego too. Do you expect me to panic when they're all so calm? I'm not a chicken that's about to be cooked here... I'm just a human being about to be kidnapped and God knows what else.

"This is the part where you panic and run away," The tattoo-less one suggests.

"There are two things wrong with that statement. First, I physically cannot run, so I can't run away. And since I can't run away, what's the use of panicking?"

"You are a wise soul," The girl comments. They're strangely talkative for murderers... And kidnappers. But then again, I'm not even surprised anymore. So many bad things happen in my life, I'm officially un-shooketh at everything.

"Thanks, I owe it to the brain injuries. Now let's introduce ourselves, shall we? I'm Bailey Willow. That dude, I've already met. He's Adrian Black. Now you two start talking before I hit you with my crutches."

"Maybe if we let her go... it'll be healthier for us?" The tattoo-less one suggests, clearly concerned.

"Sure. Let's just let her go so she can galavant... or hobble over to a police station and then tell them everything she saw! And then we'll all be behind bars!"

"I ain't no snitch."

"And we ain't gonna trust you," He back-sasses. Damn, we love ourselves a sassy bitch of a man. "Get in the car."

"No thank you, Ted Bundy."

He blinks. "It's Adrian Black."

I resist the urge to slap my forehead, mostly because it would hurt. "At least now I know for sure that you are too stupid to to anything other than kill me. Now let me get in that car."

Or at least that's how I imagined my kidnapping to go. No, one of Adrian Black's men lift me off my feet and toss me into the backseat of the minivan, and my almost healed ribs get hurt once more and I start to taste blood in my mouth.

I cough as the blood starts to trail down my lips. "My fucking ribs!" I growl out, attempting to sit upright from the awkward position the dude threw me in. If only I could remember his face, so I can hit him with my crutches which he also threw into the car.

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