His fake assistant

Huge bloke, Marc (7)

"My lips are the gun. My smile is the trigger. My kisses are the bullets. Label me a killer."

☆☆☆

I run as fast as I could out there. The elevator wasn't an option, because it will only slow me down so I ran down the stairs, running and running.

WAIT!

After running for about 2 minutes the smart part of my brain comes out, scolding me.

1. This is the highest floor it will take me 5254321 minutes to go down

And

2. I'm running from a beast, only locking him to me

Oh my, big mistake.

I take a deep breathe and go sit on one of the steps, trying to regain my breath. Yeah, I'm already tired. Let me tell you, my grades were beyond good, but if we talk about physics that's another story.

Let's just say that my condition isn't the best, at all.

I sit on the silent stair, the only sound is my heart, hammering out of my chest. I'm thinking about what I'm going to do know.

The time pasts by and I still don't have a single clue what I'm going to do. How long am I even sitting here? Maybe I should ju-

My thoughts get interrupted by heavy steps I hear, coming closer and closer. I stand up and feel my heart pounding faster by each second passing by.

Who could be there?

I'm probably just thinking too much. It will surely be a worker who works here. My unconsciousness is just eating me awa-

Holy cow!

Not even 5 meters away from me stands one hella bloke. He's tall and big; one bundle of muscles. He has a jet black suit on. His chest looked raised up, looking as intimidating as ever. But not so intimidating as Mr. William. He has sunglasses on, inside while it's raining and almost night may I add.

Wait!

A muscular bloke who doesn't seem as some secretary or someone who works at this building is alone with me. I'm repeating there's no one else here.

Oh my, I think I'm going to faint.

Who am I to judge? Maybe he is a secretary, right? Just a normal worker who likes to wear some dark clothes as if he's part from the mafia. He can wear whatever he wants. Pff... if he wants to wear some pink nail polish then he can wear pink nail polish. I'm just over thinking.

Who am I kidding?

I get immediately alerted when his hands suspiciously goes to his pocket. I then see that he has a big bulge in his pocket, something black seems to come out.

What. The actual mushroom.

A GUN!

Mission abort. Mission abort. Mission abort. Mission abort. Mission abort. I repeat freaking mission abort.

What do we do in a situation like this? School has learned me a lot of things, but not what you need to do when you're going to get bloody murdered.

Stay calm.

Yes, Faye. Just stay calm in this sort of situation. Panicking will bring you nowhere. Just softly breathe. Count in your head 1...2...3...

"AAAAAAAAAH! I'm going to get murdered! I'm way too young to die! I haven't say goodbye to my animals yet!", I start to scream hysterical.