Gibbs? I Need Your Help. (24)

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I ran. Flat out spirited. But he wouldn't stop chasing me. So I ran harder. I had my keys, my phone, and my wits about me. Actually, scratch that. I in no way had my wits about me.

I didn't even have shoes on, and I was dressed in pajamas.

As I passed my house again, I clicked unlock on my keys once, and without a sound, the doors were available to me. But he was still to close to risk getting in and him not holding on.

So I just kept running.

My leg spasmed, and I faltered for a second, but I had to keep going, so I did.

I didn't exactly know what he wanted, but after what happened when I was 16, I had gotten even more paranoid, and this guy looked exactly like the others had.

When I saw my house again, I puffed air out of my lungs, and blatantly ignoring the ache and cramping of my stomach, put on one last burst of speed, and made it to my car. I wretched the door open, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned it.

It worked.

I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and shot off.

My lungs weren't working properly, so once I was a good 10 miles away from my neighborhood, I slowed down enough to pull over.

I swallowed hard, caught my breath, and took a drink from the half empty plastic water bottle in the glove compartment.

I hit 5 on my speed dial, and it rang a few times. Then someone picked up.

"Yeeeeeeeeeees?" Gibbs said in such a Gibbs voice it stopped me for a second.

"Gibbs?" I asked in clarification.

"Yeeeeeeeeeees?" He said again.

"Gibbs, I- I need your help."

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