I can't even cut here.
The doors are transparent plastic, so I literally have no privacy.
Security guards pace constantly down this hall. I don't have anything to cut with, but every time I find something even remotely sharp, the guards confiscate it. I bet they're afraid I'll use it to hurt them and get away. I'm tempted to just promise them I won't hurt anyone but myself, though I doubt they'll buy it. Besides, they want me alive for what they're going to do to me. I stare at the thin scar on my wrist and remember when Irie tried to wrap bandage around it but I freaked out. He gently stuck on a hello kitty bandaid instead. He cared for me then. But I've messed things up. I don't think he'll come for me now.
I want to scream, punch the walls until my knuckles split. I need pain to drown out all the he racing thoughts. My mind just can't hold on any longer. But I can't count on anybody but myself to get out of this. I close my eyes and take a long, shaking breath. Out of all the screaming thoughts, one stands out, quiet and distinct.
"I should have left when I had the chance, all those months ago, before this all went to hell."
YOU ARE READING
Graverobber (BoyxBoy)
Teen FictionDreue Bittencourt is a Gravedefender. Or at least, that's what the town of Everstole thinks. Irie Kareshi is an insanely smart FBI agent, one of the youngest at the age of 17. Let's just say that he hates rich, whiny socially elite gang members who...
