Teacher's Pet: The Sequel

Chapter 15: The First

"Not going to complain." He muttered, a relieved look in his eye as he started to unbuckle. "Alright, why don't you update them?"

"I want to get this one." Emma, now filled with her post-chase adrenaline, felt the need and the courage to take on the criminal who thought they could escape their grasp. She already had her door open before Graham could respond and was out the car when he muttered something about completing his suggested task.

Taking her stride in confidence, she sauntered toward the driver's door and took a look at the man inside. He was thin and scruffy and there was a certain coldness in his eye that shook Emma to the core, but she didn't let it falter her for she cleared her throat, noticing the window to be broken. "I need for you to step out of your vehicle, sir."

"Like fuck I will." The man's voice was a toss between a grumble and snarl. "You think I'm gonna roll over like a dog?"

"You're trapped. I'd like to see you run away from this one." The blonde snorted and took a slight step forward, prepared to rip him from the vehicle if that's what it took. "Now, I'm not going to ask again. Either get out of the vehicle or I will forcefully remove you from it."

"I'd like to see you try." A cold laughter resonated within the interior of the foul smelling SUV and before Emma could take that next step forward, the man had a pistol pointed at her face and, for some reason, she remembered feeling cool tile against her rear and the taste of blood in her mouth.

"Are you seriously going to threaten a police officer?" She asked, her hand automatically going to her own gun, but before she could even aim it, a deafening bang filled her senses and a force faltered her, making the pistol fall from her hand. She hadn't even realized the man had shot the gun before she saw him pull the trigger again and she was falling toward the pavement.

"Oh, Gods, Emma!" She heard Graham's voice in the distance, but Gods, she couldn't concentrate on that. Her entire right side felt as if a thousand needles were being pressed into her flesh; from her shoulder to her leg, and when she opened her mouth to answer Graham's desperate questions, she found that she could barely speak at all.

But she managed to find her voice enough to grunt out, "go after him, dumbass. Don't let him get away." The man quickly disappeared after leaving Emma on her own. Deciding against being a lump on the ground, she shifted to pick herself up, only to find that she couldn't when she was met with a sharp jab in the arm she pushed her weight on.

"Gods, what the hell?" She grunted softly and tried again with the opposite arm, but every movement thereafter inflicted her with more knives in her shoulder and a stickiness that clung to her shirt. Emma was left leaning against the perpetrator's car, her head dizzy and her breathing becoming labored as she felt over herself in search of what had hindered her. It was then that she had quickly discovered the offending wound in her shoulder, something that stung when she touched it and made her pale when she noticed how damp her shirt was.

Gods, it was bad and, even as she attempted to add what little pressure she could to it, the blood would not stop coming. It bubbled over her fingers like crimson death and with each heartbeat, she felt her brain swimming in the murky depths of unconsciousness.

Was this it? Was this where her story ends? It must be if she was speaking to these Gods that never once held true meaning to her before.

She attempted to focus on her surroundings and wanted to laugh, something bitter and disdainful, because the last thing she would ever see would be this dank alley and the trash that littered it. Gods, she wished she could have had Regina with her, and Henry, and to see their smiles and hear their laughter. This demise was dark and cold, and the wind that howled between the buildings sounded like a cruel, mocking laughter.