Let's Pretend My Tears Are Raindrops

Chapter 32-- Let's Pretend My Tears Are Raindrops

Well, I hope all of you guys remember the situation with Bryce, but if you don't...just read back I guess. Or just pretend you know what's going on.

Ha, Well I'd just like to thank the people that are reading this again. Thanks for the patience! I know I don't come on enough. And also, I want to know what you think of each chapter, so please leave comments on each one rather than just the last one because I noticed that some people just commented on the last one I uploaded, but I want to improve it chapter-by-chapter.

Anywaysssss....vote...fan...comment...like on facebook...tweet...add to your libraries....but......ENJOYYYYYYY!!!!:)

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Chapter 32-- Not in Time. 

    Zane was going to catch me, I knew it. What did the guy suspect, giving a user drugs to sell? I needed them.

     “A possible drug lab is being investigated on 1413 Mason Street. More information will be released later on this week. Please stay tuned.” I heard the words ring through the air and wondered where Mason Street was.

     Was this Mason Street?

     Was I going to be caught?

     Would I go to jail?

     All those thoughts raced through my mind until the effects of the drugs finally took action. I was going with marijuana, in hopes that I’d be left undetected by Zane since the effects weren’t quite so strong.

     “Hey kid?” I felt the floor shake at each of his footsteps. Uh-oh. I frantically tried hiding the drugs, shoving them under a stray newspaper. My hands were shaking and I could barely control my body. In my clumsiness, I knocked a chair to the ground, tripped on a rug trying to pick it up, and fell to the floor. When Zane didn’t kill me I looked at him to see was the hold-up was.

     There he was, towering over me, staring at me with menace in his eyes. He wanted to kill me, I knew it.

     But to be honest, that was okay with me.

     “I didn’t—”

     “Why are your eyes red?” He snapped. Oh shit. I’d forgotten about that.

     “I—”

     “Where’s the marijuana?”

     “Please—”

     “You smoked it, didn’t you?” I was too terrified to answer.

     I felt the shame run through my veins when I confessed. “Yes.” I’d tried to sound firm and steady, but it came out in a squeaky whisper.

     “Don’t move.” Zane said. “Stay right there.” Each time he spoke, he came a little closer to me, his greasy long hair hanging down in his eyes. I wanted to curl up in a blanket and scream for Mommy. But I couldn’t.

     My mind thought back to a time when Brandon had told me that real men weren’t afraid of anything. I guess I wasn’t a real man.

     “I’ll never do it again.” I said quickly, taking a step back.

     “I thought I told you not to move!” Zane bellowed.

     “Sorry.”

     “Listen here, kid. If you think for one second that I am going to let you get out of here alive, then think again. You’ve got me pissed. I’m done with your shit.” He pulled out a knife and held it to my neck.

     “No, please!”

     I held his arm in my hands, trying to push him back, but not being able to. He was pushing the knife closer and closer to me. We fought, and turned in circles for a long time, tearing up the room around us. At one point I was winning, shoving him into the wall, but he rebounded and got me while I was finding something to defend myself with.

     The sharp knife was still in his possession, but if I wanted to live, I had to change that. I grabbed the handle and we fought over the knife. The seconds dragged on, feeling like years. Neither one of us was gaining anything until I finally got some leverage on it. Just when I almost had it, it flew from my hands and landed somewhere in the back of the room. Zane tried to run to get it, but I jumped on him, trying to strangle him from behind.

     After a while, he shook me off. I felt myself weakening with each punch. Each time he punched me, he punched me in the face. Blood trickled out of my nose and onto the floor. I couldn’t move.

     Then Zane left. He knew I wasn’t able to move, so he left me bleed. However, I knew he’d come back to finish me off later. He just wanted me to suffer a little first.

     And the whole time I thought about Brandon. He had such an amazing perspective on death. Maybe it was because he had a long time to know that he was going to die and he developed those thoughts over time. What about my mom and dad? Would they be okay after we were both gone?

     Out of no where, I felt him breathing on me. I knew he was there. I was afraid to look, but I had to.

     Zane was leaning over me with the knife, ready to plunge it into me. I was barely conscious, from all the blood I’d lost, but I was conscious enough to know what was going on.

     “On the count of three.” He said. “One.” There was an enormous smirk on his face. “Two.” An evil smirk. “Three.”

     He raised his hands dramatically to get some speed to the incision. I closed my eyes and thought all about Brandon and Mom and Dad and Samantha. Would they miss me?

     “Put your hands above your head and don’t move.” A firm voice instructed. Zane’s dark eyes flashed panic. He glanced down at me, then at the officer, and then shoved the knife into me, right below my heart.

     I heard a shot.

     Blood ran everywhere.

     Zane was down and bleeding to death on top of me. My eyes started to close and I was positive that I was going to die. I wasn’t someone that deserved to live. I was a low-life, homeless, drug addict who didn’t get a dose of reality in time to save himself.

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