All My Old Writing.

White Lies [Chapter Two]

Chapter Two

I grabbed the messenger bag that held my belongings and I slide it across my torso. I hadn’t noticed that in the process of killing him, my clothes were bloodied. Exasperated, I knew I’d have to change as soon as possible, but not now. Right now I had to make sure my mom was safe.

Carrying mother to the front door, I looked out the small window to make sure no one was outside. Silently, I opened the door, and cool, crisp night air flowed into the room. I pulled mother out into the silent night, the stars shining. The moon gave enough light to carry mother next door.

I placed mother on the doorstep, rand the doorbell and hid in the bushes, no one came. I ran up and rang it again, this time Mrs. Robinson came to the door. At first, she didn’t see mother, but when she did, Mrs. Robinson stumbled backward and screamed.

“Harold! Honey!” She yelled, “Come here!”

Mrs. Robinson tried to carry mother in, but she was even smaller and more petite than y own mother. Mr. Robinson searched around, most likely wondering how mother got there. Dayna appeared, horrorstricken and at the verge of tears. She knew, I told her. Dayna knew she’d never see me again. I touched my heart and knew she’d always be there, but it didn’t help the pain.

“Alex! Come out, please!” Dayna yelled, “You’ll be safe here! I promise!”

That’s the problem; I wasn’t safe, not until I was far, far away. I suddenly ran, ran away from everything I knew, everyone I loved. Hearing Dayna’s footsteps behind me, I ran faster and faster until I knew she wasn’t there.

My vision was blurred as I began to sob. I tripped and scraped my knee. I collapsed on the street, but knew I had to move on. I tried to get up, but I was so tired I fell down again. Crying even harder, I gave up.

“Need help?”

At first I thought it was Dayna, so I bolted up and ran again, my legs aching and my chest burning from running.

“Wait!”

I stopped because that wasn’t Dayna’s voice. Who was it? My stepfather? Mr. Robinson? I looked around, realizing I was in the more ghetto part of town. Taking out a thick, metal pipe from my bag, I turned around and hoped they didn’t want to kill me.

It was a guy, a normal guy. I guess he was cute, but I didn’t really know what cute was besides puppies. My stepdad never let me date or have many friends.

“Hi. What are you doing out so late?”

I looked at him. He looked normal, I guess. His hair was a weird color, though. A snowy blonde, and it reminded me of lightning.

“I don’t know.” I said shrugging, and continued walking. My heart still racing from running.

I heard him run up to me, and soon enough he was walking along with me.

“How can you not know?” He asked.

I just shrugged again.

“My name’s Cain. What’s yours?”

“Samara.”

“What are you doing out here? Please tell me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I ran away.”

I smiled at him; maybe this guy wasn’t too bad.

“Me, too.”

Cain looked at me and smiled, and I felt okay for a little bit. I loved the way a smile felt when it was meant for you. I loved the way it felt when someone talked to you, instead of steering away from you.

“Why did you run away?”

“I killed my stepdad.” I said a smile still plastered on my face.

“Really, Sammy.”

“My life genuinely sucked.” I said shrugging.

I was surprised Cain gave me a nickname.

Sammy.

Sammy.

Sammmmmmmmy.

I liked the way it sounded. It made me feel…loved.

“My parents died, and they were gonna send me to my bitchy aunt.”

“Sorry ‘bout your parents.” I replied, not knowing what to say.

The next ten minutes we walked in silence, and odd, eerie silence that was nice and comforting. We heard it, the sound of screaming. A high-pitched nuisance.

 Cain looked at me and stated running. I ran after him, swiftly moving ahead a few feet and reaching a dark alley that stank like garbage. I looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

Cain caught up with me, and held my hand, which felt warm. I turned away so he couldn’t see me blushing. I saw something dragging across the cracked cement, immediately backed away. Out of the shadows a woman with a bloody leg and a .22 caliber pistol in her hand. Her appearance was ragged, she had blood all over, and she was shaking uncontrollably.

I looked at Cain, “Oh Crap.”