Chapter VIII

80 4 0
                                    

My Love Will Never Die - AG

Bella

My belongings are once again being thrown into the tight duffel bag. Except this time my anxiety is yelling over my shoulder. Pushing me. Giving me bruises. I try kicking my anxiety the same way I kicked my mother, it did not fall over as she did. It just pushed me harder. My shoulders are trembling against its weight. My chest is seizing open as the clock ticks by. My heart aches. The venom is close to being ejected into my veins. Killing me. Very slowly.

My hair falling in my eyes only pushes me over the edge further. My heels are holding me up above the deep drop. I'm in Los Santos, looking at the cars pass by beneath me. The fear is waiting for the perfect time to give me a little tap. Then I'll be meeting the cement with my face. I can see my teeth being jabbed up into my gums, some falling out. And my eyes bleeding out. And everyone around me, they walk over my lifeless body not having a single care in the world. It's like I don't exist.

I know they know. I know my father knows what I've done. That I'm a lost girl in love with a man who overtook her life and changed her into a monster. It's all worth it in the end, though. Yes, I'm in love and if I go out with my love then I'm okay.

My mind flashes back to those last few moments Trevor and I had in the chopper. The getaway chopper from the bank we robbed. My hands running over his face as the engine had blown to bits. Him forcing the parachute on my back and how much I wanted him to have it. Thinking that the ending to our story should've been us dying together. Watching the chopper meet with the ground just before I did. The heat of the large explosion. It's all coming back to me. And of course, my unconscious mind as I laid in my pool of blood.

That's what my mind is right now. Unconscious.

Trevor doesn't waste time packing. He leaves everything behind. He said it's no use because it'll all be obliterated by flames sooner or later. He's got a point. We don't plan on wearing any of the same clothing we wore here. So maybe I shouldn't pack my duffel bag.

I change my mind and drop everything on the floor. I say there's no time to waste, and we take off. My bloods pumping intensively. I can feel my veins pulsing under my skin. My palms are also extremely shaky. I can't control myself. My nightmares are back. Well, they actually never left. But they're hitting me harder.

Trevor's rental car is parked just outside of the lobby of our condo. We rush to get inside, slamming the doors, and roaring the engine to life.

Paris traffic is a bit hectic, it is nighttime so a lot of people are probably out right now. Trevor's hands are white as he grips the steering wheel. I tell him to calm down but that only angers him more. He's just as stressed as I am. I think we both know this is the end of us.

I explained to him how Camille knew. I went over everything. We agreed that we didn't hide ourselves very well. We just threw ourselves back out there without waiting a few months. Of course, we just had to run into Camille.

There are tears in my eyes but I don't let them simmer down. I need to stay as confident and calm as possible. As much as I want to slit my wrists and bleed out to death, I need to help Trevor and I escape the terrors again.

Trevor's got the location of the airbase pinpointed in the router of our vehicle. We aren't too far but it will take about fifteen minutes to even reach there because of the horrible timing with traffic.

"Do you think we'll even go far? In the air?" I can't look at him as I talk. Then I'll burst into tears. "I don't know. I don't even know if we can get into the airbase. Also, I don't know if we will be able to get a helicopter started up without a key fob," he grits. He's right. Our chances of actually getting away are so slim. But we have to do something. We can't give up. Not now. We've gone for too long to just give up now.

all reason aside, i just can't deny, i love the guy | trevor philipsOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora