"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
Hands getting cold Losing feeling is getting old Was I made from a broken mold? Hurt, I can't shake We've made every mistake Only you know the way that I break
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I barely made it back to our building.
I had to call Lis so that she could pick me up, because the cloth wrapped around my middle was starting to become useless the damper it got. She showed up almost immediately, not before I almost passed out from blood loss.
When she arrived, the only thing I could see was a blurry mess of chocolate brown curls and her concerned face, helping me on our way to her car. The haziness clouding my vision was enough to make me stumble and almost trip. I was so tired.
She took me back to our building and said some words I couldn't decipher because of the ringing in my ears. I was pretty sure she was telling me to stay awake though. She always did that, every time I was hurt. She cared so much about me, more than anyone ever did...
The bullet had hit right over my left hipbone, and I knew it hadn't been aimed to any important organs or muscles. Still, it hurt as fuck and the blood wouldn't stop coming out. Lis' face seemed so distant, like it was drifting away...
"Alex," Her sweet voice snapped me out, making me open my eyes which I never realized I had closed. My shirt had been lifted up enough to expose the wound, but I was only focused on Lis. "Please don't fall asleep, I can't afford anything happening to you."
Right. My boss.
She was like this because she was in charge of keeping an eye on me, so if something happened then she was screwed. Her so-called 'affection'was actually duty and I was stupid enough to believe she felt the tiniest bit of love towards me.
The worst part is that I always bought it. Every fucking time. It looked so genuine, but deep down I knew she wasn't being nice to me at all. I didn't want to admit it, so I just pretended it didn't exist. And painful truth hit me every time like a fucking sack of bricks.
I wanted someone to care about me, was that too much to ask?
If you keep acting like the insolent brat you are, then I'll fucking kill you. You know I won't hesitate.
My father's words felt so distant yet so close, and I had to pin my eyes shut at the sudden memory. I knew he wouldn't have hesitated if he had to kill me, but I was only thirteen. How could someone be so... evil?
I felt every part of my body my father had once touched burning, and the tension was suffocating. I felt so hot while ragged breaths escaped my lips. I needed to escape, the light was so close...
"Alex," I heard a remote voice somewhere in the room, but I couldn't open my eyes again. They felt so heavy; I was about to have an episode.
