Twisted

~12~

I just thought about killing someone. Oh my God, look at me. I'm crazy. But it is what I have to do.

I am insane.

Before this I've never thought about killing someone. I was that innocent little girl, outcasted by her friends. I guess, being pushed around and treated wrong does start the perfect background of a murderer.

Either be killed, or kill. I choose kill. Hands down.

"The cabs on it's way." Gavin pops back up and says.

"How far can it take us?" I blurb out. Frankly, I don't want to walk that far. The least the best. Maybe we could bribe the driver to take us right up to the very entrance of the forest. That's it. As for the rest of the journey, we should keep everyone out of that area. That place is going down.

"Right to the edge. Like we planned." He calls back.

"Yeah. Do we really need the driver to get into our business?" Calvin says in agreement of Gavin. They really get on my nerves. Do they think I'm dumb or something?

Big mistake.

"He'll be here in a couple minutes," Gavin starts speaking, "We've got a fe - Oh look. He's here." A white and yellow cab swerves over into the parking lot.

Doesn't it come off a little strange that they would appear so fast. He just got off the phone with him. I'm making that face again. The one that clearly shows me thinking into something far more than the average person should. I guess the face has a hint of me being skeptical in it.

Gavin, without mind hops into the back seat. Calvin follows him, then I on the end. It's a bit tight back here. But that's alright. I don't mind it.

No. Don't. You trust no one.

A shimmer of purple runs up my arm. I gasp in shock, drawing every eye in the car onto me. Unwanted attention, great.

I pull my sleeve down, in the pocket of the car. Where you can store your drinks and things my hand is.

Right when I am for sure I'm in the clear, it runs up to my palm and stay there.

Like in the shower, it's an eye. Except this one looks like one of the Egyptian hieroglyphs. On the tip of the eye there's a giant gold streak. The black make up they put on their pharaohs. I know a bit about Egypt. Dad took us there once. As a family.

In the spot around the pupil is purple, but everything else is plated gold.

"Young lady, are you okay?" The driver asks. I don't know if he meant this to be polite. Or he's trying to make sure I am the right target because of my markings, once he's for sure he'll just simply blow the car up.

My throat is dry as a bone. I try and say aomething, but it just comes up in a coughing state. You can't tell what I said. Honestly, I didn't really say anything. Just made a noise.

"She's just sick," Calvin says coming to the rescue, "That's all."

"Yeah. Uh, sick." I push out a fake cough.; Just to add to the effect. Not that it sounded convincing or anything like that.

We're crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge. It's cool, I guess. I don't think I am one to drown over the beauty of architectural design. That made me think of Dad. He'd die over this moment, "Oh look! That's where the last screw was welded in!" He'd get us out of the car and take a thousand photos.

I won't lie. I miss him with all my heart right now. And would give anything to see him. Except, I can't go back. It would ruin everything. I'd lead these mad men to my home. And would endanger myself and him.