Handcuffed

Chapter 52

Chapter 52

After Mark was finished with pouring the gasoline, I'm not really sure what happened.  Because I didn't go up in flames like I figured would happen.  I was moving in and out of consciousness at that point and nothing was happening. I was actually kind of thankful that I was out of it a little; I didn't want to wait to die, to be tortured and burned.  I wouldn't want to think about how horrible it would feel.  Instead, as I was hanging there, something else occupied my brain.  My mind was lost with flashes of Luke as he came into my head, his voice, his smell, his taste that I felt earlier just this night.  I hope he will be okay.  That's all I could think.  I wanted him to be safe, to be happy, to be free.  

I wasn't sure how long I was like that in that in and out state.  I waited to die and at the same time, I couldn't think about it because it was as if I refused to.  With all the blood that was dripping down, the gasoline, I felt my tears slowly come and drip down too.  I didn't start sobbing my heart out no matter how much I wanted to; I didn't have the strength to.  Plus, my mind was everywhere, and I wasn't in a conscious enough state to know what to sob for.  I was in the middle it felt like.  

Then, a distorted noise came to me.  A loud ringing, a shout.  I felt my heavy eyelids fight to open and when they did, they reached the sight of the cement I was dangling in front of.  On it, after my vision cleared up a bit, I saw the reflections of lights in the gasoline.  Red and blue flashing lights and I couldn't comprehend what it was at first.  I didn't really care.  That was until a voice met my ears, close and clear and gentle. 

"Albany," he said lightly, his voice seeming just as torn up as my body was.  It was so beautiful.  I slowly opened my eyes again and tried to clear my vision even more.  I saw him there and I thought I was in heaven despite the expectation to go to hell.  He was looking up at me from the windshield that was smashed in.  His body laying down on the ground so he could look inside and see me, I noticed he was half way through where the windshield once was and the outside cement.  His neck was craned to look up at me - though I knew it was too dark for him to fully take me in.  His eyes were gentle and full of hurt, his face broken when he took in what he could of me. 

I watched, seemingly only half present, him move in more and he somehow got rid of the air bag; my vision was in and out and some parts were too blurry to understand.  But I now could see he was able to see me that much better.  I could only imagine how I looked.

I wasn't sure if I was alive or not.  I didn't really care to be honest because he was here with me.  My mind was in two places at once and the one place that held the common sense wanted to move my lips and words in warning when I saw him take in the surroundings.  I needed to tell him.... He needed to leave, to get out of here while he could.  I didn't want him dying here with me.  Because I had a feeling that would happen if he doesn't leave now. 

"Did you... did you get him...?" I breathed, forcing it through my lips. I think I already knew the answer considering I guess I didn't go up in flames. 

"No, not yet sweetie," he said carefully as I watched him maneuver his way back out slightly.  I watched as he carefully sat up when he was out, on the cement in front of the smashed truck roof.  The next thing I knew, he stretched his legs before him and carefully, slowly, inched his way inside the upside down truck.  I silently watched him, curious and amazed at the same time.  He reached up above him and grabbed the wheel near the dash board to help him, inching his way under where I was bound up in the drivers seat.  With his other hand pressed against the glass filled cement, he didn't seem to care about the glass or that I was dripping in gasoline and soon, he would be.  I noticed he was in uniform now and through I knew more cops should be here, I knew he was the only one here so far..