Chapter eight! This a little early for my liking, but I decided to post it before I head off to school for the day. Yay... I probably should be studying right now... oh well! Enjoy chapter eight!
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When I finally regain my composer, I have no idea what to do with his body. Do I just leave it there? He deserves more than that, something extravagant, but it’s not like I can make a coffin for him and burry it in the backyard. Instead I pluck a flower from the vase and place it on his chest, his hands folded over it and bed covers neatly tucked on his lap. I take one last look at his dead body, now unable to remove the picture from my mind.
I take his coat with me; covering my head in the cloak he gave me. Nearly everything I have is from him, except for the jeans I wear and the blouse underneath. My whole body shakes as I sling his cloak and satchel over the saddle’s horn. It isn’t long before I break down into fit of tears as they have already streaked my face. What do I do now?
“What are you-” the boy stops speaking when I turn around and he sees my tear stained face. “Where are you going?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” I mutter quietly as I ready myself to jump onto the house. His hand stops me though.
“You should come with me. I was just heading out anyway,” he says.
“No,” I turn away from him and mount my horse. “I don’t need your help.”
“You are still coming with me,” he says, placing a hand on my horse to keep it from going anywhere, “Nicole.”
“I told you, my name is Amanda,” I don’t look at him.
“Oh really? Then what is this?” He holds up a piece of parchment with a drawn picture of me. The wanted sign reminds me of those old western movies where a murderer is out on the loose. It’s actually a really good drawing of me, too, and it’s very accurate.
“Who are you?” I glare down at him.
“Bennett,” he holds out his hand for me to shake, except I don’t take it. Trey warned me about him, except Diabolos would have never let him out on his own. There must be more here. Trey would want me to stay alive for him.
“Get away from me,” I snarl before kicking the horse’s side with my foot and shake the reins. Bennett isn’t able to stop the horse, and curses himself before leaping onto a stranger’s horse and kicking off after me.
I have no idea what I’m doing, since I’ve never officially rode a horse before. The only experience I have is watching some cowboy ride on television, and so I mimic their composer by lifted my bottom up from the saddle and leaning forward, urging my horse to go faster.
The hooves of the horse clap against the dirt road, kicking up dust as we zoom through the streets. The gate comes into view, and we head straight for it at an extremely high speed. Damn, it’s locked shut! I intend to slow down, but the horse goes even faster toward the fence nearly higher than it. I scream and shut my eyes, just seconds from hitting the metal poles, but instead feel the weightlessness as it leaps right over it, landing hard on the other side.
“Miss! Come back here!” The two guards shout.
“Open the damn door!” Bennett howls at the two of them as his horse falters at the gate. I take this time to get some distance between the two of us and round a corner.
