Paper Birds

Chapter Thirty-Nine ; The Running Game

Clarissa's P.O.V.

"Where are you going?"

I was going to the place where I could always clear my mind. There was an apartment building just down the street. When Jonah and I were little, we used to go there, on top of the roof, all of the time. Partly to look at the stars, but mostly to get away from our parents yelling and throwing things at each other. Sometimes we would fall asleep up there. I remember countless nights where Jonah would be shaking me to wake up in the pitch black darkness, only able to see because of the lights in the sky. We'd climb down the fire escape and sneak into the house without saying a word. Our parents would never notice, and if they did they never said anything about it. Which was fine by me, but it seemed to hurt Jonah a little bit.

"On the roof of-" I was suddenly knocked over sideways and lost my balance, falling onto the ground, my knees scraped up by the rough concrete. I cried out in pain, searching desperately for my attacker.

"God dammit," I heard a familiar voice mutter.

"What the hell, Dylan?" I hissed, reaching for my phone. He knocked it out of my hand and grabbed my cut wrist, hoisting me up from the ground. He dropped it as soon as I was on my feet, pain shooting up my arm. His hand was covered in blood.

"Fuck, sorry, again." He grabbed my elbow and my phone, pulling me towards a worn-out, crowded pizza shop.

"What are you doing?" I applied pressure to the cut, praying that the bleeding would stop because I was starting to get dizzy.

"Just follow me," he replied simply, entering the shop and leading me down some stairs. There was a bunch of drunk people down there, along with restrooms, torn couches and a bunch of chairs that looked like they should be in a salon. I've never been there before despite all of my years living in New York.

He took a switchblade out of his back pocket and ripped off part of the fabric of the couch, wrapping it around my wrist and tying it off.

"Once the bleeding stops, take it off immediatly or you'll lose your hand."

I hoped he was kidding, but by the serious look on his face it was obvious he wasn't. I gritted my teeth through the pain jolting in my arm and managed to ask, "Okay, now what is this about?"

He sat down on the couch, me joining him. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his forehead. "You're being hunted."

"I'm- what?"

"A lot of people want you dead."

All of the drunk people were really annoying me. I could barely hear him. I furrowed my eyebrows and ran my good hand through my hair. "Why?"

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Do I have to paint you a picture?"

"Would you, please?"

"You killed Talon. AKA you pissed off a ton of big kids whom he owed money to. Where d'you think they're gonna get their money?"

"I didn't kill Talon." Harry did, but I felt that this was the wrong time to say that since I did indeed get Harry into this mess.

"That's not the point. The point is that they think you did and they're mad as hell. They're coming after you and your family."

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

"Remember the shooting at your school?"

I nodded weakly.

"Remember the brick through your window?"

I squinted at him. "How did you know about that?"

He shook his head, rubbing his forehead again. "They wanted information out of me and I heard their whole conversation."