Chapter Thirty-Two~
Rosaline's POV:
All at once, I found myself speed walking, and when the breathing continued -but even closer than before, I begun running with Addison close behind, our hands clinging onto each other for dear life.
"I swear if we make it out alive, I'll get a tattoo." I said between pants, on the verge of tears. I was only throwing anxious thoughts out there. "And you can pick it."
My heart was pounding against my rib cage, with every hitched breath I took.
For some reason, Addison was now pulling me along.
So what? Maybe I ran horribly slow, that it was ridiculous.
The ground was just dirt, twigs, and sticks... Maybe even bugs.
I couldn't hear the nose anymore, but I still continued to run.
At one point we had to jump over a log.
I jumped first, and being the girly girl she was, Addison didn't jump, she simply climbed over, trying not to get dirty.
My socks were drenched, and I knew not why.
It was a coincidence how there appeared to be lightning and thunder out of no where. It fit the scene
so perfectly, but there was no rain.
"If we live, I'll get a piercing." I said aloud another idea to encourage her to move faster, in effect of her slowing down. She was out of breath, as was I; but I wanted to keep running.
"My... Foot..." Addison shook her head vigorously, and collapsed into the dirt, breathing deeply. "I don't care if we die."
Her make up was running. I couldn't imagine what I looked like.
She pulled her sock off, holding her foot up in the air to me.
It was bloody, like she stepped on glass.
I gasped, and whipped my head around to the noise the dirt crunching a few feet away.
There was a figure, running our way, but I couldn't see what it was, or who, because of the fog.
I dropped next to Addison, and hugged her, as she buried her head in my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut.
This wouldn't of been happening if I'd refused her offer, and joined the boys. Not that I really had an option. Addison was gonna still make me stay behind.
Next time we explore INSIDE the yard. That's If there is a next time.
Never listen to the blonde hearted person.
We were waiting to be killed, as the footsteps came closer, it was now apathetic to Addison and I.
As long as we'd die in the presence of one another.
The footsteps were now unhurriedly pacing.
A clicking sound appeared, then there was no noise anymore except for thunder.
Although we'd stop running, we were out of breath because what was happening, and where it took place.
I looked down at the ground and front of us, and there was a huge pair of brown boots.
Then I looked up to see a gun pointed between us. One of those long hunting rifle guns.
I squeezed Addison tight, and leant further back into the tree bark. She hadn't look up to see what was going on, but maybe it was best if she didn't.
"Aye." The man said silently. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
I opened my eyes again, because in a way, the soft voice was convincing.
The guy was crouched down in front of us, with his gun on the ground in a form of surrender.
I couldn't imagine what we looked like to him in his eyes.
Chicken heads. Sigh.
Addison gasped, and I realized why.
Those piercing eyes.
I recognized them. The hunger that use to always long in them were gone.
The only difference is that the brown of his irises weren't black. The brown provided a warmth of happiness that you'd never got out of this person after secondary school. The shabbiness gone.
For once he was smiling, showing his white teeth instead of a cigarette being shoved in his mouth.
"I'm sorry for sneaking up on you Rosaline... Addison. I thought you were an animal."
We said nothing, still in shock.
He stood up, holding his hand out to us.
James said he wasn't going to hurt us, yet he attempted to rape me some time ago.
Did he expect us to believe him?
Wait, no.
Me, only. I hadn't told Addison about his attempt, and I'm sure Harry hadn't spilled the beans either.
But why would he have? I doubt they'd had a conversation based on me.
Addison had no reason not to trust him.
I stood myself up with his help, and then helped Addison up. She hopped on one foot as her foot was dripping blood, and slung her arm around my shoulders.
Jame's eyes were glued on me. Not once did he look Addison's way.
"About the other night." He looked down at his gun, and then his gaze traveled back to my eyes. "I was drunk and high... You can't began to realize how sorry I am."
He just had to bring it up infront of Addison.
"What's going on?"
I hope he wasn't expecting an acceptance, because he wasn't getting one.
Sure he looked well cleaned up, less stubbier, and nicer. But he'd have to earn my trust, which was never given to him to began with.
I didn't say anything, just avoided his gaze, and bent down to pick up the sock.
"Let's go," I murmured, drained out.
We turned to walk about in the direction we thought we came from. We knew not where we were going, but eventually we'd find somewhere.
"Follow me. My camp is near and my grandpa can help your foot."
He swept Addison off her foot unexpectedly, with his gun in his hand and she blushed, the way Harry made her blush.
At first I didn't want her and Harry to be together. And now I really do want them to stay together, because she was happy and so was he.
And I swear on my god given life, that if James fucked their relationship up, it won't be pretty for him.
I'd pick me... to give her a piggy back ride, over him... carrying her, any day. It doesn't even matter if my back is broken.
I would have protested that we not go with him, but he had Addison, and I wasn't gonna leave my best friend. Not only because I didn't trust him, but because I was way weaker than him, and he had a gun.
His "camp" was about 15 minutes away, and he knew where exactly it was.
It wasn't a camp at all. But after all maybe you'd call it that when surrounded by a forest.
There was a wooden old house, much like the ones in horror films. Then I wondered if he was about to kidnap us and keep us captive, and there's was no grandpa of his.
I mentally slapped myself for believing that he'd do that...
Wrong? Yes, I was.
I bit my tongue. An old man, very, very old, sat in a rocking chair on the porch.
So all this time James' grandpa lived behind they boy's house?
Crazy.
That's probably why James knew too much.
"Hey gramps."
"Charlie, I said bring home an elk, not two girls!" He wagged his finger, as we were going up the porch steps, that squeaked majorly.
"Charlie?" Addison and I said in unison.
Not once were we informed that that was James' real name.
He put Addison down on a stool in front of his grandpa's rocking chair. And I just stood there, close behind.
His grandpa laughed, as "Charlie" blushed, and gave him a stern look.
"Grandpa. It's James."
He then looked down at Addison's foot in her lap, ignoring his grandson. "Now what happened her?"
"Running barefoot." She answered coldly.
"Boy, go get my kit." He made a huffing sound, referring to James.
He didn't answer, and went to fulfill his grandpa's demands.
I sat down on the porch steps, and Addison began making a conversation with the old man. "So is like, his real name Charlie?"
Or maybe he had Alzheimer's, and forgot his grandson's name.
"It's his middle name." He laughed a hearty laugh.The old man's joy was actually cute to me. "You know, Charlie's never brought home a girl. I was convinced he's never had a girlfriend."
"Sir, I was his girlfriend." Addison sounded proud, putting a hand up. "But why?"
"Why hasn't he brought a girl home? And please call me Edward."
That meant he lived here.
"I believe because he was embarrassed to be living with his gramps, and no parents. Not to mention an ugly old house." He smiled, rocking back and fourth.
"Where's his parents?"
My question caught him off guard. And he stopped rocking, looking behind me. I turned behind me to see where his gaze landed.
James was stood in the door way of the front door, with the kit tucked under his arm. You'd think that we'd heard him there, because the floor boards.
He stood up straight, handing Addison the kit. She opened it, and Edward leant forward a bit and began rambling through it from her lap.
"Tell them." Was all James said, and sat on the porch steps next to me, with a distance.
I knew it wasn't a good story, so I gave my best sympathetic look.
Even after what he did, I was willing to be nice.
Edward began talking and tapped his lap for Addison to put her foot up.
"When Charlie here was 10..." I could have sworn James swore under his breath at the nickname. "His parents had taken a flight to Sweden for their 13th anniversary on the of 14th July..."
Which means I'd just turned 9, three days after.
"It had been a very stormy day here in London. Thunder, lighting, hail, rain and all."
I glanced at James for his reaction. His eyes were locked on me. He didn't look sad or anything.
Edward, and Addison both looked at her foot, as he cleaned the wound.
"Jamilette, Charlie's mother and a few other people were survivors of the plane crash. She called home crying, I could barely understand, she managed to get one word out clearly. James..."
I could see the resemblance in their names.
Addison yelped in pain, as he was now pricking in and out of her food with a needle. It didn't occur to me that she needed stitches.
It didn't look deep to me. But I was no doctor.
James continued the story from his perspective.
"I was really excited to hear from my mum." He looked at his grandpa. "I had just came home from swimming lessons... I remember her speaking fast, the only words I really heard was I love you, and then phone went dead on the other end."
It was Edward's turn. "It was hard hearing that my Daughter-In-Law was found in a local motel dead, and my son hadn't made it off that plane."
I felt a lump rise in my throat.
She committed suicide for love.
Addison screamed louder in pain.
"Sit still, girl." His grandpa said.
"I'm sorry," I turned to whisper to James quietly, loud enough for him to hear only.
He shrugged, and chuckled a bit. "My grandpa thinks he's a pro."
I looked at his grandpa who had knitted eyebrows. He looked so concentrated, and Addison looked constipated, holding her breath.
I giggled with him.
And seconds later he was done.
"You're all clean." He smiled.
Not literally. We both were filthy.
Addison sighed happily. "Thank god. I almost died."
Say goodbye to heels for a couple weeks. I pictured my self winking at her, and her sending me daggers.
It was funny how I thought my feet would get hurt, and it ended up being her.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" I asked him.
James interjected for him.
"He was one of those war doctor thingy's when a soldier gets hurt, and he helps them, or whatever."
Just before I could ask, his grandpa was talking.
It was really crazy how he would finish each other's statements, because they knew exactly what each other were gonna say.
It's like the replayed several case scenarios on what to say if some one were to ask.
"1940 to 1942." That meant this guy was atleast ninety years of age. Wow. "England's Last War Against France. Fighting Vichy."
I didn't want to know anymore, because I was no history person, but I sat and listened through the whole story. His experience, his life, his survival, etcetera.
The sky got darker. I shivered and Addison's stomach grumbled, and we automatically thought the same thing.
"I think we should get going." I stood up, and she did the same, wobbling on one foot, agreeing.
"I'll drive you guys back to the house." James stood up next to me, gesturing to the the small car the had no doors or windows. Much like ones that belong to golf courses.
Next to it was this hippy van, very colorful, dirty, and old.
-
Addison and I took showers and got cleaned up. After, we sat on the couch, watching TV, acting as if nothing happened today. Her legs were laid across mine, as she sat side ways.
Actually neither of us were watching tv.
She was only her phone, playing some bird game, and I stared past the tv, deep in thought.
James now knew how we'd escaped the yard in the first place
What if he was gonna come inside the yard and stalk us?
But then again maybe he already knew.
I would have to tell the boys to get that fixed, but then a lot of questions would come up.
What happened to Addison's foot? Why do we need to cover the hole? Do these things have to do with each other?
Then they would find out that we went out the hole.
Rosaline why'd you do this? Rosaline why'd you do that?
It's all Addison's fault. I swear.
"Rose, it'll be fun." She said.
But was it?
No.
My thoughts were interrupted by the tv. It went black and white, making a sizzling sound. Then it just cut off.
Scary.
It wasn't windy or rainy, outside as far as I was aware of, so it shouldn't have done that.
"Rosie," Addison teased in an Irish accent. Her attempt was beyond horrible. "I'm bored."
It was night, we were not about to go wondering off again. Not now, not ever, not bare foot, and especially not with Addison's stitched foot.
Just wait til Harry gets home, and goes all mushy gushy on her about her foot. Carrying her everywhere. And special treatment.
That should be fun to watch.
And then I might even get Mr. Protective Cop.
"I'm hungry." She continued whining.
Too bad.
"That's why god gave you two feet."
"Unfortunately," she put her phone down, and clapped her hands together. "I'm hurt. So be a dear, and make me something?"
She lifted her hurt foot in the air off of me, and used her other foot to kick me off the couch, and blew me a kiss.
"Bye. Thank you. Love you."
Annoyed, was I? Yes.
I got up, walking to the kitchen.
At first I stalled, sitting at the table, just looking around, and then after I felt my own stomach grumble, I decided to make us some food.
I knew Addison was starving just as much as I was, that it wouldn't of matter if we'd eaten a horse.
A sandwich would be quicker, but I wanted cereal... And she would want a sandwich. Only, If you made it the way she liked it.
No crust. Mustard. Mayonnaise. 1 lettuce. 1 slice of ham. 1 tomato. 2 pickles. And cut in half. All in that order.
Oh, and make sure minimize the use on mustard and mayonnaise.
This is what happens when you make your bestfriend's sandwich way too many times.
If I was in a good mood, I'd usually add a cup of orange juice with it- her favorite drink with her favorite kind of sandwich.
I poured myself a bowl of dried cereal, scooping it up with a spoon into my mouth, before starting on her sandwich.
As I went to get the bread, I noticed that there was a dish washer.
Was I blind? Or did I have a rare case of Alzheimer's.
Because I'd been missing everything.
I put the bread down on the plate, and decided that Addison stomach could hold out for a few more minutes.
I crouched down in front of the dishwasher, and clicked one random button. It beeped, followed by it automatically sliding out to open.
"Whoa." I whispered, mesmerized.
Then I grabbed all the dishes that were piling up in the sink, and put then into machine, and closed it.
It beeped twice, and began rumbling seconds later.
I think it began washing, because all you could hear was a swishing sound back and fourth like a washing machine.
I laughed to myself. That's cool.
I'd never used one before because I'd only lived in two different houses before this one. One was, my childhood home, old fashion.
And the other one is a decent house, I suppose.
Technically I live in all three houses presently, because my stuff are in each.
I went to the refrigerator to get the ingredients to Addison's sandwich, and luckily there was a surplus of everything, probably because the amount of people currently living in this house.
As I cut the crust off, and spread the mayonnaise and mustard on different breads, I listened close to see what Addison was doing, but I couldn't hear past the dish washer.
I shoved more dried frosted flakes into my mouth, and a whiff of air flew past me, blowing my hair partially over my shoulder. My food was fully chewed, but I swallowed hard, and quickly.
I whipped my head around to my right, towards the patio door.
The door was slid open, the curtains blowing outside.
"Freaking, Addison." I hissed to myself, and trudged over to slide the door close again and locked it.
Either she was messing around.
Or James was?
It wasn't windy, so it couldn't of been the wind that blew it open, and that would take alot of work anyways
The light above, sizzled, and flickered. Could it be James doing all this?
Today was just a nightmare in a way.
All I wanted was Niall.
I continued Addison's sandwich, trying not to think about what was going on around me.
My stomach no longer owned an appetite.
I looked over at the patio every 30seconds or so.
After I finished making Addison's sandwich, I went to the refrigerator again, but this time to retrieve the orange juice.
Suddenly, a face appeared around the side of the open refrigerator door.
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(A/N)
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And 69 comments (;
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