My Crazy Obsessed Stalker (Watty Awards 2011)

Chapter Seventeen: Rolling In The Creep

Chapter Seventeen: Rolling In The Creep

“Perhaps without the lows, the highs could not be reached.”

Stephenie Meyer The Host

                I waited patiently in the cop car while the police officer talked to some of the other people in the parking lot. I was restless and determined to see Jamanj hauled away in handcuffs. I couldn’t believe what Jamanj did and how much of a mess he caused. One of my worries was Charisse. The eighteen year old was on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance fighting for her life.

                I had hoped they would find Jamanj.

                Things had taken a turn for the worse. The police officers were running back and forth like chickens with their heads cut off questioning everyone. Sadly no one knew any information about Jamanj or where he could have gone. Except me.

                The police officer that had talked to me before was now questioning one of the employees of the restaurant. The man looked angry and pointed a finger at me.

                They had all probably blamed me.

                Fortunately I didn’t feel guilty. I was too consumed by trepidation and unrest to be concerned about the man from the restaurant blaming me. My sister was shot by Jamanj and I didn’t know if she was going to live. The paramedics refused to let me see Charisse which made me worry even more.

                Charisse could be seen in the back of the ambulance with several people surrounding her. I squinted and looked to see what was going on. There was so much blood lost when she was shot. Her skin and face were both so white. I quickly shook away the bad thoughts.

                She was not going to die.

                The paramedics continued to shout orders at each other while I sat restlessly in the back of the car waiting until there was a breakthrough.

                I finally decided to go check on Charisse.

                I took off sprinting in the direction of my sister once I saw that the paramedics were going to drive off to the hospital. I reached the door and peeked into the ambulance.

                “I need to go with her.” I asserted.

                “I’m sorry but you can’t.” One of the male paramedics stated.

                “But she is my sister.” I argued crossing my arms over my chest.

                I had to go with her.

                The paramedic turned to one of the others and whispered something. He nodded his head and waved for me to get into the truck.