Hold me [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 11

Bridget's POV
I was wandering around a crowded street, all I could see for miles and miles around was people and more people...Their faces blurred together and condensed into one. I scanned the horizon, feeling the need to find someone, someone recognizable. I looked down at my cellphone, that was hazy too; I couldn't tell if there was any signal, what time it was--and my usual wallpaper of me and my mom was absent. I clutched my phone to my chest, as people jostled me and pushed me in different directions.
One man in particular, with a scratched out face shoved me to the ground, and continued walking. My knees smashed against pavement, and the dozens of feet continued to walk--shouting curses, and kicking me along the way in their haste. Once or twice, I think someone whacked their foot against my head. I somehow made it to my feet again, and began pushing my way through the crowd.
"Excuse me--I need to..." I mumbled, although it was useless, they couldn't hear me. They didn't even notice me.

As I travled further into the crowd, the indistinct faces slowly began to form familiar ones.
My mother walked by, holding hands with Fred, chatting idly--but I couldn't understand the words; as if they spoke a language different from me. "Mom..." I reached out, but my hand slipped right through her arm through the other side, like she was impalpable. I snatched my hand away, and stared--mortified, as she continued to talk and meld back into the bulk of the crowd. I continued to move unwillingly, knowing I hadn't found the person I was looking for.
Mr. Reed, Mrs. Sprayberry, and Crustal passed me--their faces were unreadable as their necks craned in my direction. I looked into Crystal's eyes, they were voidless and black. Dead. She cocked her head slightly to the left, like an animal observing their prey.

This time, I rushed forward--walking as fast as I could to get away from them. My sister skipped by hastily, not even giving me a second look--a bouquet of lilacs in her hand, along with the lilacs decorating her head, to look like a crown. Olivia let out a cheerful giggle, and left, leaving the perfume of the lilac in her stead. I didn't have time to watch her leave, I could tell...She was not the person I was looking for either.

My throat felt like it was closing up, and my mouth was dry. The overwhelming fear of not finding this person, hit me like a train on a track. I fought back the urge to quit, and continued walking. A familiar looking man brushed my shoulder, and turned to me. My dad reached out and closed his fingers around my wrist, his blue eyes smiled along with his lips--
"Keep walking, Bridge." He told me, before tucking a strand of black hair behind my ear, and dematerialized right in front of me. It'd happen so quick, I didn't have time to react.
Now, I had some kind of new found energy...even if my dad wasn't the person I was searching for. I'd ran straight into Tyler, he'd reached out quickly, grinning, and grabbed my hand before I could tumble to the ground and get trampled on again. He ran a finger over the growing bump on my temple, then released my hand. His eyes were yellow instead of dark blue, resembling a snake--he licked his lips slowly, as if I was some kind of snack. Tyler didn't say anything, as he purposely bumped my shoulder and struted off.

I shuddered, and rolled my eyes--continuing to walk.
I saw Coach, and Cody--Charlie too, but they'd only been receding images. I saw the back of Dylan's head, silky brown hair close enough to touch, he looked back, meeting my eyes briefly before walking further into the crowd. His figure began to vanish into the thickening crowd; then I knew. Dylan was the one I was looking for.

It made sense, didn't it? He'd been the only one walking away from me, the others walked towards me. Dylan was the, hard to get to being; I knew that much.
"Dylan!" I shouted, surprising myself. My heart ached in my chest as he slipped further into the clumps of blurry faces, Anguish, Heartbreak, it hurt...
A gust of hot air blew into my face, as the crowd finally began to clear, just when I thought it never would. Dylan was standing on a dock, staring at the boards as if he was counting the planks. He turned to me swiftly, wearing a mask--one of those creepy grinning ones. His slender hand reached up, and slid it off of his face easily, it crumbled away hitting the dock with low, sad thumps. Now that I found him, I didn't know what to say.
"Bridget." Dylan held out a hand, beckoning me forward. I found myself hesitating, like I was peeking over a cliff at the fall--then, as if taking the leap I took his hand. His hand felt real, warm and firm--as his fingers inclosed around my hand. Then...