Emma's POV
It's getting darker now. I remember when I still lived in the city, how it was impossible to see any stars in the sky at night because of all the city lights. Now I get to see the beauty the sky has to offer at night, and I'm thankful for it.
My neck is still throbbing from Harry's gentle assault only moments ago. I still don't know why he did it. I have to admit his lips were soft and very plump while I was preforming CPR on him, but I didn't feel anything. Maybe it's because he was unconscious and near death? My subconscious butts in. Was I supposed to feel something? But I still feel that the only reason he tried to kiss me was because he has been lonely for way too long; that he needed an escape, and that escape was me. I can't help but feel bad for him.
I walk back into the barn to find Harry sitting on a stack of hay. His eyes are focused on the floor, admiring it as if it were a work of art.
"I'm going to bed. You should too." I suggest. I try my best to pass him and go into one of the empty stables, but he stops me.
"Hey, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to do what I did. I fucked up and I know it.."
"It's fine, really...' I lie.I then walk into one of the three stables, lay down and let my eyelids become heavy with sleep.
***
"Emma." I hear someone whisper.
"Emma." The voice repeats, but this time I wake up. It's Harry.
"What do you want? I was sle-"
"Shut up.." He says in a hushed tone. What?
"Excuse me? I don-" He covers my mouth with his hand.
"We need to go. Now. Grab your things." He whispers. This isn't the best way to wake up, but I'm slowly starting to get use to it. I comply and grab my rucksack off the ground and swing it onto my shoulder.
"Harry, whats going on?" I say quietly. He presses his finger to my lips and points to his ear.
"Listen." He whispers, pointing to the right side of the barn. I hear a faint voice on the other side of the wall.
"Ernie was shot up real bad. His leg is fucked up. He said a little bitch did it. Said she was with him." I can hear the voice perfectly now. Who's him?
"They got be around here. Keep looking.." The same voice bounces off the four walls of the barn.
"What does he look like, the kid?" Another man speaks up.
"Uh..tall, brown hair, has a whiny accent. You can't miss him." My body freezes. No. They can't be talking about Harry, could they? I turn and look at him.
"I'll explain everything on the way, but we need to leave right now. I'm not trying to get shot at again." He says with a smile. I oblige, following him to the front doors of the barn.
We slither through the door silently, trying to avoid the men on the other side of the barn. What if Harry gets shot again? What if he dies this time? What will happen to me?
Memories of what happened two nights ago flood my mind. The mysterious man shooting Harry. Harry falling to the ground covered in blood. The man running at me. I panicked and took Harry's shotgun, pulled the trigger, thinking that I killed the man. I was wrong.
Little did we know that he had friends. Friends looking for us; looking for Harry. But why? What did he do?
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