Assassin (Mikey Way)

1

I run. I run fast, not stopping, the pouring rain pelting my head. I'm soaked and my hair is sticking to my face, my wet shoes rubbing blisters on my ankles, but I don't stop running. I finally spot a house in the distance, the first one for at least twelve miles. I start to dash for the house, until I hear the motorcycle. The one I've been trying to escape. I hide behind a bush and wait for them to pass. I hear the sound of the motorcycle fade. I run again, to the house. I bang on the door.

"HELP!" I scream, crying. "HELP ME! PLEASE!" I yell, fake tears streaming down my face, blurring my vision.

The door flings open, revealing a boy, probably my age, standing with a distressed, confused expression.

"Can you please help me?" I choke out. He nods his head and gently grabs the crook of my arm, pulling me into his house. He points to a cushion on the couch, signaling for me to sit down. I do as told, well motioned, and sit. I wipe my eyes after he leaves the room. I smile slightly.

He comes back into the room with coffee, cookies, and a first aid kit.

First aid kit?

"What's the first aid kit for?" I whisper.

He looks at me weirdly, and points to my arm. That's when the pain settles in.

He takes a q-tip and dips it into a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He gently dabs it onto the gigantic gash on my upper arm, right above my elbow. I flinch at the stinging feeling and he jumps back and fumbles to grab a notebook off the coffee table.

"I'm so sorry" the paper read.

"It's okay." I say. I wonder why he had to write it down as he picks back up where he left off.

He looks at me, then at my arm.

"Yeah, it's fine. You can keep on now." I tell him.

He eases his way back to doctoring my arm. He fixes me up and hands me the coffee he had previously brought to the room. I finally get a good look at him. He's very cute. I can't kill him.

I snap out of my thoughts. "Thank you so much." I say to him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods his head, as if saying a 'you're welcome'.

"Are-are you mute?" I blurt out, attempting to sound as polite as I can, stuttering along the way.

He looks down and nods slightly. I smile warmly and put my hand on his back.

He grabs his notebook, and jots something down, showing it to me when he's done.

"Would you like to stay for a little while?"

"Yeah, that would be nice." I reply.

He smiles and looks back to his notebook, tapping his pencil on the paper as he thinks of what to say.

"What's your name?"

"Claire." I say. "What's yours?"

He writes something down and hands me the notebook.

"Mikey."

"Well, hi Mikey." I smile, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He grins and and shakes my hand.

We talk for a while, well, I do, and get to know each other.

"So, what happened earlier?" He writes in the notebook.

"Oh," I trail off, thinking of a lie to excuse myself. "I was running away from my parents." I say as I pretend to get choked up. He puts his hand on mine and my hand started tingling.

This was not supposed to happen. Nope. It can't. I can't like him. I don't. I just met this boy. Why am I like this?

I smile slightly at him and pull my hand away. He looks down and runs his fingers through his flipped back hair.

"I should probably get going." I say, standing. He stands and grabs my hands, shaking his head.
He lets go of my hands scribbled something down and shoved it in my face.

"Please stay, just for tonight?"

I sit in shock; this man I barely just met, asked me to stay at his house for the night. My boss would kill me, literally, if i stayed.

"Sure, why not." I say

I nod, and head to the bathroom. I lock the door and look through his drawers as quietly as possible. I mean, it's my job. Then I hear a knock on the door. He must have heard me.

"Yes?" I ask. A paper slides under the door.

Everything okay? What are you doing? Do you need anything?

I try my best to think of something but I end up ignoring him and get in the shower. All I can think about is how I'll get out of here. Or if I can bring myself to do it.