Morphine

ten: trails

Milan winces. I can hear Chase laughing and it sounds genuine, even through the phone.

"See you tomorrow. Bye dude." And after a pause, "Bye Meira."

He hangs up. How did he know I was here? When I ask Milan that he says, "You have to work on your breathing. It's too loud."

And all I say is, "His arse is not skinny."

Milan gives me a grossed out look, throws a pillow at me and leaves.

****

Chase experiments a couple of times with the position of his fingers.

He weaves three of them through three of mine. Then two of his through two of mine. Finally he settles with all five of his through all five of mine. He looks at me looking at him and gives me a satisfied smile.

We were back in Chase's house the next day, watching a movie again. In a couple of hours though, everyone had decided to go to the bowling alley. Chase and I excused ourselves with necessary ketchup shopping plans just to have some time to ourselves.

Taking the long route to the grocery store five blocks away, we hugged and laughed and cuddled and kissed the whole time. Even in the store while buying the ketchup, he kept running his arm up and down mine. I couldn't keep my hands off him and he felt the same.

There isn't much conversation, but that's completely okay with us. It's a comfortable silence, just exploring the creases and lines on our palms. Chase notices an empty bench outside a park, so we decide to sit there for a while.

"I don't want you to leave," I mutter sitting beside him.

"I don't want to leave," He mutters back.

"Then don't." I tell him.

"My mom's work here is done. She has to go back, and I have to go with her." He tells me. Shifting closer to me, he starts pressing his lips against my neck. Chase is the sort of person who doesn't care about who's looking or what they're thinking. If he likes it, he does it. If he doesn't like it, then he doesn't do it. It's such a simple thing, and he does it so easily.

Not the same case for me. I like privacy. I like Chase's lips and hands making me feel tingly and warm. But I don't like the 'get-a-room' look that the people walking on the road give me. I turn my neck away, feeling uncomfortable and scrutinized, and Chase understands. He moves his soft, soft lips away and puts his arm around my shoulders. 

In all the time I know him, I've never heard him say the word 'dad'. It makes me curious. I've always wanted to ask something about it, but always felt like I would be intruding if I did. So I didn't.

But maybe now he would tell me. I turn towards him, thinking of a way to ask him.

Out of no where, my arm is being pulled. A van is near our bench. We were too caught up in ourselves to notice a van stopping near us. A guy is standing at the back, with the doors open, bending over, pulling my arm. I feel like he's going to rip it off. I'm dragged off the bench and sliding across the road. Chase's hand that was around me falls limply. His head snaps up.

All this happens in a matter of four seconds. Chase works quickly and grabs onto my other hand. Tighly wrapped around mine. I look at the man pulling my other arm. A shiver of familiarity runs through me. I know this touch. This is the same guy from school.

Chase isn't letting go and he's shouting at me to not let go. But the van starts moving and Chase is being dragged along with me. The guy puts his arms under my shoulder and heaves me onto the van ripping me away from Chase. I unconciously fight the guy. But I know it won't work. I think quickly and pull out the plastic ketchup bottle thing from my coat pocket with my right hand, which the guy isn't holding. Before the guy closes the door, banging my head against the tiny window, I shove the plastic ketchup bottle thing under the door. With the force of the door closing, the tiny bottle cap comes off and the ketchup - the bottle firmly stuck between the base of the door and the floor of the van - flows on the road in small amounts, leaving a trail.

A little Hansel and Gretel re-reading never hurt anybody.

The guy doesn't stop though. He keeps banging my head against the tiny window. The glass is starting to break.

Chase runs after the van.

It's like history is repeating itself.

Except it's not Milan that's running behind a vehicle that's kidnapping me. It's Chase.

He looks scared and guilty and angry. Oh so angry. He doesn't stop running. But there's nothing he can do. I give him a smile. He probably can't see it. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Bansik is a revengeful bastard. He doesn't explain himself and he is certainly not stupid or reckless.

The pounding in my head starts aching. The metal of the van is starting to hurt the bones in my forehead and temple. The glass pieces tear the skin on my cheek. Something warm rolls down my chin, but I can only look at Chase.

The driver of the van speeds up and I understand. I truly do. Chase is no athelete.

So, he stops running. Then he looks at all the ketchup on the road and gives me a grin. Or maybe he didn't. He's too far away to be sure.

But I know he's going to come for me. And I'm going to make it easy for him by taking down some of these bastards that are kidnapping me.

Unlike last time.

Yo. The plot is finally kick-starting. Hope you liked this chapter. Let me know :')
This will most probably be the last update for this month. Shitty finals are round the corner and it's absolutely necessary that I pass the exams. So no time for wattpad or any other social media. Also, there's a new cover for this story. It's been put up. What do you think?
Vote. Comment. Share.
- nymisha