Carlton ✔

18| The Red Flower

Dedicated to:writing_HD

GURL, lemme just say that you are fuxking gold for real. I LOVE YOU. And I hope that our comment threads keep going on forever and ever and ever XOXO (you're still a witch tho)

Check out her books guys and show some love, she's one of my favourite writers out there!!

"I look at you and see my entire life in front of my eyes."

~ yourtango.com

Breanna's POV

My hands fell numb as the temperature around me dropped. I felt cold sweat running down my forehead.

Someone was in my apartment.

There was a bizarre weightlessness in the air, the unfamiliarity pressing down on me heavily, making it harder to breathe.

I pressed my back to the wall of my small kitchen, reaching for the frying pan.

Holding it close to my chest, I gripped the handle tighter, swallowing a whimper down my throat.

There were footsteps echoing from somewhere in the living room of my small apartment, closing in every second.

I slapped my hand on my mouth, to be as hushed as possible.

Poochie, my dog, began to stir with uneasiness near my feet. A low growling sound was emanating from his chest as he meticulously prowled towards the kitchen's entrance.

I had found this beautiful harrier abandoned on the streets a few days ago and befriended him, in hopes that he would defend me from my attackers.

And perhaps it was now his turn to show his proficiencies.

"Poochie!" I whispered and gestured at him to try and stop him from pouncing on the stranger.

What if it was someone I wasn't supposed to hurt?

"Poochie, no!" I attempted to grab his collar but he ran outside.

His ear-splitting, intense barks began coming from the living room. I held my stance until I heard glass breaking and a man yelling out in pain.

I ran after him, pan in hand.

The scene before me left me speechless.

Poochie's jaws were clasped around the man's arm, drawing blood as the man flailed around, trying to push him off.

The pan threatened to slip from my hands when I saw the man grabbing the hilt of a pistol inside his jacket.

He was definitely here to hurt me and my dog. I wasn't going to let that happen!

Knowing that he hadn't spotted me yet, I screamed and slammed the pan behind his head with every wince of vigor left in me.

I snatched the pistol from him. With a bang, a gunshot erupted from the muzzle as he dropped on the floor, unconscious.

The bullet hit the ceiling, the sound pulsating painfully inside my ears.

Poochie freaked out from the sound and ran outside through the open living room door.

I aimed the pistol at the man's head, my hands trembled uncontrollably.

Shoot him.

Tears were forming in my eyes as I placed the pistol on a table nearby, unable to get myself to kill this atrocious man.

A whimper left me, and I began to wail. Tears streamed down my face involuntarily.