"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," He tsks. He sticks a hand under my chin and lifts my head up until my gaze is level with his. He lets out another over exaggerated sigh. "Why must you make this so difficult?"
I spit in his face for good measure.
He lets out another sigh as if this whole exchange is boring him and wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket.
Once upon a time, I would have called him my friend. He would have been there for me and he would've had my back. And I would have done the same for him. Now, I'd just be content to stab him in the back or throw him in front of a moving bus.
I'm not usually a violent person. I swear.
He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it into the corner of the room and immediately fear begins to spread through me. He gives me a look and I make sure to continue on with my death glare, making sure the fear doesn't show on my face.
I'm pretty sure I'm at least mildly successful in this, as he visibly flinches under my harsh gaze.
Of course, next thing I know my head is snapping to the side and there's a sharp stinging across my cheek. I suck in a breath and take a second to school my face back into the glare it was before as I turn back to him. He doesn't waste a second though, and his fist makes contact with the side of my head and for a second my vision goes black and my glasses are knocked off my face.
His next strike connects with my jaw and I taste blood in my mouth as I accidentally bite down on my tongue. He strikes again and this time my lip is split open and I begin to gag on the blood in my mouth. I spit it out on the floor just moments before his boot comes in contact with my side. I begin to feel like I can't breathe and begin wheezing, trying to catch my breath.
I let out a gasp as my eyes fly open. The dream coming to an abrupt end. But it was more than a dream. It was a memory.
I try to catch my breath and push myself up into a seated position. Immediately I let out a groan as a pounding starts in my head and pain shoots through my body.
My hand goes to my head, poking at what I'm assuming is a bandage. I wince as I press down too hard, a pain shooting through my skull and making me want to knock myself out so it stops.
As I look around, trying to figure out where I am, I spot my glasses on the coffee table next to me. I reach my arm out grab them and then immediately curse as a burning pain shoots through my body once again. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out and blink my eyes to try and stop the tears of pain.
"Idiot," I hear a voice say, but my head is too fuzzy from pain to identify that voice. "Stay down before you do any more damage to yourself."
I look at the tall blurry figure walking toward me. "Ryder?" I question and then wince as my voice comes out hoarse.
He walks toward me and picks my glasses up off the table. "Guess again," He says as he slides the glasses over my eyes.
My breath catches in my throat and my heart starts beating fast, panic beginning to flood through me. "John," I whisper.
He glances at me briefly before he starts messing with the bandage covering mostly my shoulder, but part of my chest.
"What happened?" I ask quietly. "Where's Ryder?"
His gaze meets mine once again. "Your FBI friend left," He says as he goes back to messing with the bandage, unwrapping it and pulling it away. "As for what happened," I wince as his fingers poke at the wound in my shoulder. "You got shot. I thought that was pretty obvious."
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...