Edited 12/24/14
Nearly thirty minutes later, I stumbled into another room, instantly heading to the center where I rotated in a slow circle, glancing around. The walls were white, decorated with vintage pictures, and the ceiling was stained from water leakage. At this point, I was frustrated with myself; by now, I should've been long gone, probably with my family. But, other than the sliding glass door in the kitchen, I couldn't find another door that led outside to my freedom. The downstairs windows were too small or contained metal bars that prevented someone from crawling out. So, I was forced to venture upstairs, on high alert, though I surprisingly didn't bump into anyone. I was moving from room-to-room in search for a window without bars and a nearby tree for me to crawl down, possibly a pipe. Of course, it was taking forever - I was always the one with terrible luck. And, I searched the tables and nightstand drawers for phones, but I was disappointed each time.
"Come on," I mumbled, exhaling loudly. "What would Noah do?"
Suddenly, there was the sound of rattling. My eyes flickered across the room, landing on two doors. Seeing the sunlight streaming in through the crack, my heart stopped. No way. Quickly, I limped towards them, yanking at the handles until the doors opened. A gust of wind smacked into me and I breathed in the fresh air, smelling the decaying leaves and muddy ground. It was a balcony, one decorated with a simple porch chair and a potted flower.
I moved out onto the balcony and peered down below, seeing bushes and roses. I nibbled on my bottom lip, debating with myself. The cautious part of me was pointing out that if I had jumped, it was going to be extremely painful, especially with my injuries - there was also the possibility that I wouldn't survive. But, the risk-taking part of me was thinking along the lines of it being the best chance I had and the bushes would soften my fall.
Noah would jump, I thought, my hair whipping my face. I'm running out of time. Breathing in the surrounding forest's mildew, I hopped onto the railing. I swung both of my legs over the side, allowing them to dangle. I squinted up at the burning sun, though my attention was immediately drawn away to the faint moon hovering in the sky above the tree-line. My stomach twisted at the sight of it - a full moon was going to happen in the next few days. Werewolves had little restraint, which meant they were forced to shift on the full moon and because of their struggle with control, they lost themselves in the transformation. Seriously. During the transformation, they were overwhelmed with the urge to spill blood, so anyone or anything in their path, they didn't hesitate to attack.
I remained on the railing for the next few minutes, watching the puffy, white clouds slowly move across the sky. For some reason, they reminded me of cigarette smoke - to be honest, I had smoked once in my life. But, my brother was worse than me; he was the reckless and rebellious one. Since the day our mother was murdered, he became a cursing, jumbled mess searching for trouble. For a few months, Noah smoked and I remembered the day I had caught him. He was seated out in the trees, not too far in, with a cigarette between his fingers and a bottle of cologne in his lap. Beside him, an empty can of beer rested, crushed. I scolded him and he simply laughed in my face, something I had become used to.
Then, I snatched the packet of cigarettes from him, along with the lighter near his thigh. Bravely, I lit one of the cigarettes and shoved it between my lips, taking a deep breath. I was only able to release one puff of smoke, before he leaped to his feet and slapped the cigarette from my hand. That was the last time he had smoked.
I shook my head, knowing I needed to stay focused. Jump. I closed my eyes and tilted forward, feeling my body leave the railing. The weird sensation of my stomach dropping occurred and my muscles tightened for preparation of the impact. I held back a scream, even though I was positive that I was going to scream in agony at the bottom. But, my escape came to an end when somebody sprang forward and snatched my upper arm, jerking me to a stop in the air. I gasped and when the sparks started surging through me, I knew who had caught me.
Drew.
With a scowl, I looked up, not surprised to find him straddling the rail. He tightened his hold on my arm in fear, his bloody shirt whipping with the wind. "Nora!"
"Let me go!" I shouted, seriously. "Now! Let go!"
He shook his head. "I'm not letting you fall."
"This is my escape," I said, dangling in the air. I started scratching at his hand and attempted to peel his fingers off me. "It hasn't been forty minutes! You said - "
He gritted his teeth together. "I'm not letting you die."
"I'm not going to die, dipshit!" I bellowed, slapping at his hand. It wasn't a surprise that my slaps didn't affect him at all - it was disappointing when he didn't even flinch. Carefully, he started pulling me towards the railing and I kicked my legs, wildly. "How did you even know where I was?" The question caused him to freeze for a moment, clearing his throat. "You followed me, didn't you? This whole time?"
"Yes, I did," he admitted, guiltily. "But, I had to make sure you wouldn't do anything stupid - like this!"
"Or, to make sure I never escaped," I countered, angry. He opened his mouth to argue, but realizing I was right, he closed it. He continued pulling me towards the railing while I thrashed, desperate to fall. "You're an asshole!"
He frowned. "I'm not an asshole."
"Lies!" I accused, scratching at his hand with my jagged nails. Of course, he didn't release me and because of my luck, I didn't slip from his hold. His hand started bleeding from my scratches and sadly, they quickly healed. He exhaled loudly in exasperation and hauled me up towards the railing - taking the opportunity, I swung my fist forward and punched him in the chest. He swore under his breath and his grip loosened, allowing me to slip from his grasp, only to be caught at the last second by my wrist. A painful jolt shot throughout my arm and I gritted my teeth together.
He glared down at me. "Stop! You'll fall!"
"That's the point, dumbass!"
"You're so frustrating!"
"You don't say?" I responded, sarcastically. Tired of playing games, he easily pulled me over the railing, careful with my injured leg. "No! Let me go!" Ignoring my command, he dragged me off the balcony and back into the room, oblivious of how tight his grip was. Using his feet, he kicked the balcony doors closed and shoved me away, releasing my wrist. As I whirled around in rage, he locked the doors, his dark hair messy from the wind. The urge to run my fingers through it was aggravating; he was my enemy. "My family has probably noticed my absence - they're going to find me."
He took a step towards me. "I'll be impressed if they do." Giving him an angry glance, I turned around and limped towards the bedroom door. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, prepared to swing if he decided to touch me. "Where are you going?"
"I'm getting out of here," I told him, confidently. I turned out into the hallway, hearing his following footsteps. Despite the urges, I wanted him to leave me alone; I was angry enough. But, inside, I knew I was more angry at myself than him - it was pathetic how I was still held captive. With the months of training I had endured, it should've been easy for me to find an escape. I was taught to fight through the pain, yet I was wincing with each step. "Stop following me, dipshit."
"That's not a nice name, sweetheart," he responded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. I took a deep breath and shook my head at the stupid nickname of his. I wouldn't show him that it bothered me. "Come on, just give up - you aren't going anywhere."
"I'm not giving up," I told him, turning around the corner. "Now, I suggest you stop following me, before I find another knife and stab you."
"Yeah, that wasn't very nice," he said, peering down at the hole in his shirt, surrounded by dark blood. "You might've punctured my small intestine."
"Damn," I responded, rolling my eyes. "I was hoping for the stomach."
He chuckled. "You were close." He accidentally stepped on the back of my heel and I looked over my shoulder with a glare. I stopped at one of the doors lining the hallway and I pulled at the handle, disappointed when it was locked. He scratched the back of his head with a grin and watched as I limped away, mumbling to myself. I knew he was laughing at me inside; I wanted to punch him for it. "All these doors are locked, sweetheart. Stop wasting - "
"Just go away!" I snapped, but he continued following me.
He shook his head and minutes passed in absolute silence. I was growing more and more frustrated; each door that I pulled at was locked. I jerked to a stop when one of the upcoming doors opened and a guy stepped out into the hallway. He yawned and looked around until his eyes landed on us, or more specifically, me. He was around twenty-five, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a cotton, black t-shirt. His flop of auburn hair was tangled and underneath his eyes, rested dark circles. He appeared miserable. His green eyes looked me up and down, recognition crossing his face. I cursed in my head when his lips curled into a sneer and he growled one word, explaining the situation.
"Hunter."