Prologue - Probability of living

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Hope you all enjoy the first chapter in this new story!

Nicky's POV

"Come on Nicolette." His taunting voice calls.

I place my hands over my mouth to keep in the scream that so desperately wants to escape as he stops by my hiding spot.

Probability he doesn't look and just keeps walking by?

Low. Very, very low.

My breathing sounds like the loudest thing ever and I try to will myself to shut up, to breath evenly. I begin to count in my head, begin to run through math problems.

Unfortunately, the only thing I'm able to run through is the probability of making it out of this alive.

I try to focus my eyes on anything. Try to take my mind off the gun-wielding maniac currently stopped behind me. That doesn't work either.

It's damn near impossible to see anything in this dark building and my glasses have long since been lost. My crappy eyesight doing absolutely nothing to help me focus on something else other my inevitable end.

I nearly let out a shout of complete and utter joy when I hear his footsteps retreat from my hiding spot.

"I'll make this easy for you." He says calmly and I dare not move a nanometer. "I'll give you the chance to join back up. To help us out once again."

I'm silent, my heart beating wildly in my chest and for a moment I'm sure he can hear it. I'm sure he can hear my heavy breathing and pounding heart.

"It'll be just like old times." His footsteps echo around the room as he walks through the area, trying to determine where it is I'm hiding. He knows I'm in this room, and he knows he's got me beat.

Ryder's voice seems to echo around in my head, telling me to shut up, to stay quiet. That he's only trying to figure out where I am...gee thanks. It's not like I hadn't already figured that out.

My hands find the gun resting on the floor next to me. The gun I'd stolen from Ryder. He's likely not even noticed it's gone...and he won't notice it's gone. Not till it's too late.

It's not like I'd actually be able to hit this guy. Sure I'd been taught how to use a gun but my aim sucks...not to mention I don't even have my glasses and I'm as blind as one can be without them.

I hear his footsteps stop a second time by my hiding place in the dark corner, wedged behind the musty old couch.

Probability he passes by a second time?


I'm so screwed...and dead. Mostly dead.

I should've told someone where I was going. But the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Especially since I'd broken probably every law short of murder to get here now.

Suddenly death doesn't seem that bad...sounds a lot better than facing Ryder's wrath if I make it out of this alive...which I won't.

I'd never planned on it to begin with.

I'd dug myself a deep hole this time, and nothing was going to get me out of it. I'd known that from the start. I knew what it was I wanted to do. What I wanted to achieve.

I've always blamed all of them for the way my life turned out. Constantly running from the police, FBI, and every other freaking law enforcement officer on the planet, but it was never their fault. They'd never had a choice. I had, and I chose wrong.

But I plan on making the right choice now...and living with the consequences.

Even if that means death...and considering my predicament...

Yeah, it means death...I'm so sorry I'm not.




And Thanks!

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