Shot | A Dreamnotfound Story

Chapter 1

George POV

The sky was pitch black with only a sprinkle of clouds. The only thing illuminating the cold pavement was the towering lamp posts overhead. Okay, maybe they were not that tall but they seemed gigantic to George. George whistled a tune while he walked down the concrete pavement, the occasional car passing by. The plastic bag holding his groceries crinkled. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air in his lungs.

A shriek pierced the night.

George's eyes widened. His pupils darted around from right to left. He saw a dingy little alleyway where if he listened closely, he could hear someone or something thrashing about. George's heart pounded, as he deliberated between running and checking out the situation.

On one hand, going home would ensure safety. London was safe, but every city has its danger spots. It just so happened that he was in one right now. That poor person was probably getting mugged, and they would most likely only lose their wallet. But what if it was not just a robbery? What if they were getting murdered? Could George live with the fact that he may have had the chance to stop an innocent life being taken away but did not seize it because of his own cowardice?

George decided he could not.

He inched slowly towards the alleyway, careful to not make a single sound. Muffled sounds emerged from the end of the back alley.

George saw a man hugging his knees, scrabbling against the wall, while a hooded figure held a gun to his forehead.

"I have a wife and kids! Please don't fucking hurt me!"

"Language."

A gunshot rang.

George let out an involuntary gasp. The hooded figure whipped around at the sound of his voice. Under the light of the harsh London street lamps, George could make out the recognisable features of the murderer standing in front of him. He put a hand to his mouth.

"Bad?"

Bad's hazelnut brown eyes looked pained. Pulling out another gun, he aimed it at George.

"I'm sorry muffin head."

Before George managed to flee, a bullet struck his thigh. The last thing he saw before darkness overcame him was himself falling to the concrete pavement.

Bad's POV

Sighing to himself, Bad stowed away his gun in its holster. He crouched down over the dead body, taking a leather suitcase from his limp hands. He opened it and started counting the fat stacks of bills. While he adding them up, he heard a small thump behind him but he was nonplussed and continued rifling through the money.

"You never use tranquillisers."

Bad scowled.

"I only use them on innocents."

Suddenly, he heard a crunching sound. He whipped his head around to find a man in a green hood munching on an apple.

"Don't eat in the crime scene you muffinhead!"

The hooded man shrugged. He tossed away his apple into the nearest trashcan.

"Does it add up?" Bad's partner asked.

Slamming the case shut, Bad nodded. Immediately, a pair of gloved hands snatched the leather suitcase. Bad looked at his partner who was already climbing up the alley walls.

"Good luck dragging his body to the helicopter." The hooded figure smirked and bounded away.

Bad groaned.

George's POV

Bright lights were the first thing George saw. He rubbed his eyes groggily and opened them while attempting to sit up.

"Where am I?" he mumbled.

"Florida." A familiar voice answered.

George looked around at his surroundings. He saw his friend, Bad, standing worriedly by his side. Funny, George did not remember meeting up with his internet friend...

The memories of what happened slammed him like a freight train.

He sat up like a bullet.

"You killed someone!"

"I-"

"Don't bother explaining. I saw what you did." George spat, venom lacing his every word.

His anger blinded him. It also seemed to deafen him, as he made no reaction to the wildly beeping heart rate monitor.

Someone pushed past Bad, though not unkindly. He was dressed in a white coat and had a white headband tied around his head.

"You're stressing him out Bad. Maybe later?"

Bad sniffled miserably and left the room.

George was hyperventilating and the incessant noise of the machine only made it worse. The doctor quickly pulled the plug on the machine seeing that it made George's breathing even more erratic. He put a hand on George's shoulder.

"Time your breathing to my counts okay?"

George gave a small nod as he tried in vain to get his breathing in check.

"Okay. 1, 2, 3 and 4. In. 1, 2 ,3 and 4. Out."

This continued until George was visibly more relaxed and his shoulders did not heave everytime he drew a breath.

"Who are you?" George blurted the second he could talk.

White Coat shrugged nonchalantly. He crossed his arms.

"Technically I'm Doctor Sapnap, but my friends just call me Sapnap."

George quirked one eyebrow up in amusement.

"We're friends already? We just met."

"You're staying here for awhile anyway so we might as well become friends."

George's expression hardened, and his face twisted into a scowl.

"I'm not staying with a band of murderers."

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A/N
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hey here's another fic! there will be no update schedule on this so updates will be super erratic