I'm at the grocery store with my mom. She picks up a can of soup and inspects it before cringing and putting it back on the shelf. I'm stealthily reading a One Direction magazine, hiding it from the cameras and employees.
What? I'm a directioner! More about me later.
My younger brother is staying overnight at a friend's house. My step-dad is driving somewhere down in West Virginia and who knows what my dad is doing.
"Hey, Mads, go put this back for me," my mom commands, handing me a bag of rice. I nod and head off to the right aisle. I put the bag back and glance up, noticing some scary looking guys at the end of the aisle.
One guy has a shaved head and a Mike Tyson face tattoo. His skin is tan and he has a scar running along his thick eyebrow. He's wearing a tux.
Not a smart move, I think as I inspect him whispering to guy number 2. The tattoo and scar makes you easily distinguishable. Now I can identify you if you do anything.
The other guy is a stereotypical Yakuza. Yakuza is like the Japanese mafia, except way more screwed up. His long black hair is slicked back in a ponytail. He also is wearing dark shades and sports a goatee. He's bad news, I swear to it.
They glance at me and I continue to stare at them, my gaze stone cold and as emotionless as I can muster. Tyson looks at me once again as I take off, leaving the aisle. I find my mom inspecting some noodles.
"Mom, we need to leave," I hiss.
"What?" she asks, turning to look at me.
"We need to leave," I repeat.
"Why?" she presses.
"I saw two guys that don't look too friendly," I reply, looking around. I don't see them.
"What... what do you mean?"
"One guy looked Yakuza and the other guy had a shaved head, a Mike Tyson tattoo, and a big scar and they were wearing tuxes. They started glaring at me," I whisper. My mom nods and clutches my hand, dropping the basket. I toss the magazine inside and we start to leave.
"Act natural, act casual, we'll be fine," she promises. I nod and although I don't understand what's going on, I obey her and we make it through the front doors.
I glance around occasionally and see no sign of anything suspcious. We get out to the crosswalk-
Tyson throws me to the ground and I smack my head against the pavement. Yakuza grabs my mom and throws her in the back of the empty flower van. My vision is blurred, but I can make out my mom screaming my name in absolute horror. I push myself up off the ground and start sprinting across the parking lot after the van.
A young, teenage girl with not much cardio should not run across a whole parking lot after a van. I guess adrenaline takes over me.
"Someone help!" I scream. "They got my mom! Help! Mom! Mom, no!" I pump my arms and legs faster, rounding the corner. There's a ringing in my ear as I duck into traffic. I weave between the cars.
My vision is slowly returning to me, but it doesn't ease the sense of panic coursing through my veins. I see the van off in the distance. I will myself to go faster, but I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and two cars screech to a stop: a silver one and a huge dark blue pickup truck, the one that hit me.
Two figures leap out of the silver car and sprint over to me as I black out and hit the asphalt.
YOU ARE READING
Gotta be Lou...is's sisterRomance
A chain of terrible, horrible events lead to something good. Yes, I'm Louis Tomlinson's adopted sister... adopted by him. This is my story of what it's like living with the boys and what happens when a certain someone is now in your life for good.