𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

06 || Cat And Mouse

Song: Jaden and WILLOW - Summertime in Paris (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Josie

I wasn't very bright, especially not in situations that required me to activate my fight or flight senses.

I lacked the sense to fight and instead always choose flight.

I guess my urge to flight could be reason enough to excuse my behavior, because the second the elevator doors opened onto the seventeenth floor, I ran.

I ran away from Sammy, who stood in the elevator watching after me with a puzzled look on his face and I ran even after I'd concluded he wasn't going to be following me.

I only stopped once I reached apartment 1703, and my running was replaced with the sound of my fist banging on the door.

Yet no one seemed to answer the door and this time, grabbing my bags from where i'd left them, I turned the doorknob and hastily entered the space, shutting the door behind me.

And it's only then that I allow myself to take a minute to collect myself and scan my surroundings.

My surprisingly underwhelming surroundings.

Compared to the home on the sixtieth floor, this place looked like a closet. It wasn't necessarily small and crammed. It was just quaint and messy, with things scattered all around. And from my position at the door, I was steps away from every amenity.

It's eerily quiet as I glance around the space, heaving a sigh at the sight of broken glass and knocked down trinkets.

It'd been a long day. One that only gets longer the second I make out a mop of blond hair slumped over the couch in the midst of all the madness.

It'd been years since I'd seen Weston Farley, but I could recognize the blonde mass of curls anywhere.

Moving forward, I nudge him, hoping to wake him, but when his head lulls to the side exposing his face, a gasp lodges itself in my throat.

I would have thought he was asleep had it not been for the large gash on his head and the stream of blood still pouring from his nose and the gash.

He looked like he'd just taken a horrible beating.

I don't even allow myself time to think or panic as I turn and head straight for my medical kit.

And from there, it was all protocols and procedures I'd gone through hundreds of times.

And by the time I had finished stitching and cleaning him up, my body used the last of its energy to slump into the corner seat of the couch and completely give out, as exhaustion over.

. . .

"No, you do it."

"Just... Tilt her head so we can get a good look at her. Maybe her face will ring a bell."

"Of course you wouldn't remember her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"