Had some free time after my midterms. Enjoy!
I used to go to church with my family every Sunday. I suppose that was odd, considering I wasn't exactly on the straight and narrow and was doing things that God would definitely frown upon. I'm sure if my parents had ever been aware of it they would have been sure to sit a few rows away from me so that when I got struck down with lightning they wouldn't accidentally get hit.
The one thing from church that I really retained, was also what my parents would tell me every night after we were put into witness protection. God has a plan for all of us.
Well, my plan hadn't included in staying in witness protection and getting my family killed. My plan also hadn't included being on the run, car chases, explosions, or FBI Agent Ryder Asshole Stevenson.
Ultimately though, I was beginning to believe that God did, in fact, have a plan for me and my life.
I was thoroughly convinced he was trying to kill me.
This latest episode of being thrown into the back of a car was only more proof. The fact that I wasn't dead yet had me wishing God would strike me down already and spare me from this stupid cat and mouse game.
I was getting real sick and tired of being the mouse.
As a matter of fact, I'd rather be the dragon that came in and burned the cat and mouse to a blackened crisp.
I could hear voices around me but I couldn't make out anything they were saying. My head was too fuzzy.
I couldn't tell how long I've been out for. It could have only been ten minutes, or it could have been a couple of days. Vaguely I remember them continuously drugging me every time I began to come to consciousness.
I also vaguely remember getting slapped after I suggested that they take a long walk off a short pier with cinderblocks tied to their feet.
The more I begin to come to consciousness the more annoyed I was becoming. I mean if I really thought about it, this was all Ryder's fault.
I would have been perfectly fine if I'd never been forced to tag along with him. And, he was supposed to be protecting me, but where was he now?
If I have to continue to have him protect me, I'm screwed. I mean really, let's put this into perspective.
He's already lost me three times in less than a week.
He kidnapped-oh, I'm sorry-retrieved me.
I've been handcuffed by him more times than I care to count.
And his fashion choices completely suck.
The only thing left for him to do is to get me killed or kill me himself. That is, if I don't kill him first.
The first thing I notice when I've come to is the hard concrete floor, and the awful lights shining down from the ceiling.
The second thing I take note of is the fact that I've worked myself up so much over how this ultimately is all Ryder's fault, that I'm so pissed off I'm actually hoping for a fight. I need to hit something. And while I prefer that something to be Ryder, I'll take what I can get at this point.
I start to push myself up into a seated position and I'm shoved back down. I let out a sharp breath of air. Oh, I know they didn't just do that.
I shove off the ground and jump to my feet, and I'm once again pushed to the ground, much harder this time, and I can hear people laughing. It's only when I try to find the source of the laughter that I finally realize I no longer have my glasses.
YOU ARE READING
I can't keep the smile off my face as I take my seat on the plane. I slide my bag under the seat and lean back. I close my eyes and let a blissful smile grace my face. He said I wouldn't be able to run. As if. I'm vaguely aware of someone taking the...