emo: Bree's Story

Chapter 7

I drove off, knowing I had to escape. My life seemed to consist of that a lot lately. Running. Its no longer just about me though. I have Dylan now. I have Dylan to protect, to heal.

I can't believe I had let myself do this. I had made a friend when I knew I shouldn't. The second he helped me out of my locker on that first day of school, I should have thanked him and left.

This life I am leading was meant to be a lonely one. One of solitude and self-help. I can't depend or be dependant on anyone. I had let myself fall too far. I had to right my wrongs. No matter how much it hurt me, I had to  get Dylan out of this mess and back home.

As soon as he's better I'll send him back. The only person who's ever been kind to me. The person whom I have nearly gotten killed on several occasions. No, my mind is made up. It's better to lose a friendship than to get him killed.

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Dylans P.O.V.

My bloodshot eyes flew open. Where was I? I bolted upright and blinding white pain seared through my body. I located the main source of pain in seconds and my hand found my stomach. I gripped my wound trying in vain to stop the hurt.

Bump, ba-bump. I looked around finally realizing my surroundings. I was in a car. I was in the back of some persons car. Why was I in the back of some-

Wait. Where's Bree?!

The last thing I remember was Bree being held by a man in a black trench coat. I was trying to go and help her. Then he threw a knife at me, and it all went black.

Realization hit me like a punch in the gut. I'm being held in the back of this car by those men. God knows where Bree is.

I looked around my captivity trying to figure out what I could use to escape. My eyes landed on something glistening in the sunlight.  A gun?! what was going on? Why were they leaving a gun in the back with their prisioner? Something is going on here.

As quietly as I could, I inched over. I couldn't make any sudden movements or noises lest I bring attention to myself. I grabbed it and slowly brought it up to my chest. I can't check to make sure it's loaded, it would make to much noise. I would wait for a distraction.

We must be near an airport, for a jet was landing not to far away. It was making plenty of noise for me to check the gun.

It was loaded. Perfect. I cocked the gun. I was about to go get Bree back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bree's P.O.V.

I heard the click, even through the jet engines. 

"Pull over."

The gun made its way to my head.

"Now."

It was Dylan. He probably didn't recognize me. I was wearing my black, too big hoodie, and gloves. My gray skinny jeans with the holes, and my converse.

But all he could see were my hoodie and gloves.