Hating You

06 | under attack

I turn my head to see that my gun is just out of my reach. "You're dead," the person chuckles, his hands tightly around my throat.

He has nice rings on- not the fucking time, Ivory, you're being choked. Kinky- again, not the time.

I struggle in his firm grip as I try to reach for my gun and once I'm able to grab it, I smash it beside his head, causing him to fall unconscious beside me.

I sit up, gasping for air. The Russians are here. Fuck. Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.

Despite the pain, I force myself up and I enter my room once again, and step into my closet. I grab my assault rifle and slowly slip out of my room.

An assault rifle and a pistol? I think I'll be good. Maybe. Eh, I'm a pessimist, I don't have much hope.

But as soon as I step out, a person pins me onto the wall. Really? Why is my luck this bad? I think I got the evil eye or something.

"Obsessed much?" I mutter out tiredly. His arm is on my collarbone, pressing right into my bullet wound. It hurts so fucking much. No shit. I need to shut up.

"I wouldn't say obsessed," the girl chuckles but before she can do anything, I bash my head onto hers and she stumbles back.

"Ouch," I mumble, rubbing my head, "how did that hurt you more than it hurt me?"

Ignoring my words, she lunges me but I duck. "Missed, loser." She tries again but having enough, I shoot her in the heart.

"She's up there!" I hear people yell as jog downstairs. Really? Just as I'm going down the stairs?

"How have you guys been," I laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my head. What am I meant to do? Offer them vodka and crumpets?

"You're cornered, Ivory," one smirks. No fucking shit, bro.

"Uh- adios, amigos," with that, I run back upstairs but one of them still manages to shoot me. Luckily, the bullet just skimmed my ankle.

Swiftly, I slip into my room, grab my Skyline car keys, and open the window. If I accidentally die while jumping off, at least the Russians can blame my death of suicide.

Ouch, dark humour at its finest. Kinda reminds me of that one scene in Home Alone.

Ignoring my annoying ass thoughts, I carefully step onto the window sill and look down at the high drop.

Maybe having high ceilings isn't a good thing considering I'm only on the second floor and the ground is far.

Carefully, I try my best to keep my body on the floor and my balance still so I don't fall to my bloody death as I move to the other side of the house.

I quickly stop once I hear their voices and look around the corner to see one of them sticking their head outside the window, trying to look for me. Not the best time to say this, but he looks stupid right now.

"She's fucking gone," he snaps, slamming the window close. Damn, you shot me twice, punched me, and you're gonna break my window?

I jump onto my greenhouse, smearing my blood all over the glass as get off, jumping onto the grass. I feel like I'm rapunzel or some shit.