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"I look at you and see my entire life in front of my eyes."
~ yourtango.com
Breanna's POV
My hands fell numb as the temperature around me dropped. I felt cold sweat running down my forehead.
Someone was in my apartment.
There was a bizarre weightlessness in the air, the unfamiliarity pressing down on me heavily, making it harder to breathe.
I pressed my back to the wall of my small kitchen, reaching for the frying pan.
Holding it close to my chest, I gripped the handle tighter, swallowing a whimper down my throat.
There were footsteps echoing from somewhere in the living room of my small apartment, closing in every second.
I slapped my hand on my mouth, to be as hushed as possible.
Poochie, my dog, began to stir with uneasiness near my feet. A low growling sound was emanating from his chest as he meticulously prowled towards the kitchen's entrance.
I had found this beautiful harrier abandoned on the streets a few days ago and befriended him, in hopes that he would defend me from my attackers.
And perhaps it was now his turn to show his proficiencies.
"Poochie!" I whispered and gestured at him to try and stop him from pouncing on the stranger.
What if it was someone I wasn't supposed to hurt?
"Poochie, no!" I attempted to grab his collar but he ran outside.
His ear-splitting, intense barks began coming from the living room. I held my stance until I heard glass breaking and a man yelling out in pain.
I ran after him, pan in hand.
The scene before me left me speechless.
Poochie's jaws were clasped around the man's arm, drawing blood as the man flailed around, trying to push him off.
The pan threatened to slip from my hands when I saw the man grabbing the hilt of a pistol inside his jacket.
He was definitely here to hurt me and my dog. I wasn't going to let that happen!
Knowing that he hadn't spotted me yet, I screamed and slammed the pan behind his head with every wince of vigor left in me.
I snatched the pistol from him. With a bang, a gunshot erupted from the muzzle as he dropped on the floor, unconscious.
The bullet hit the ceiling, the sound pulsating painfully inside my ears.
Poochie freaked out from the sound and ran outside through the open living room door.
I aimed the pistol at the man's head, my hands trembled uncontrollably.
Shoot him.
Tears were forming in my eyes as I placed the pistol on a table nearby, unable to get myself to kill this atrocious man.
A whimper left me, and I began to wail. Tears streamed down my face involuntarily.
A headache came barrelling in as I strode out of my apartment, wiping my drenched face.
I needed to find my dog.
Carlton's POV
"Where is she?!" I couldn't recognize my own voice; it was too hurried and desperate, too willing to attain the knowledge I've been dying for.
"She's in Pittsfield. They spotted her on numerous occasions leaving a certain building–"
"Are they sure it's her?!"
"They're certain, yes."
I was struggling to keep my balance; the earth was rocking beneath me. And now those numerous rounds of beer were starting to show their consequences.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I didn't even realize that I was falling until Damien was holding my arms; his muffled bellows were finally intelligible. "How much did you have to drink?!"
My breaths sounded like they weren't mine. Enfolding his sleeves between my numb fingers, I scowled at him. "We're flying to Pittsfield, right now."
"Uhh..." He was hesitant, clambering a little as he looked back at me. "Okay, but...I'll have to contact the aviation team, get the documents ready–"
"Right. Now."
He pressed his lips into a thin smile, which I didn't quite understand, and nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
Thank God for Damien.
My legs almost gave away but he caught me, wrapping my arm around his neck. A wavering laugh erupted from his chest. "Let's get you home, Romeo."
We left everyone at the party, mainly because the drunken version of their personalities was too stubborn to go home.
Besides, I made a suggestion to do this without Dylan. I didn't want his amateur ass to get hurt during his heroic attempts to "help" me.
Phil raced our car down the chilly Boston streets, dodging traffic as I had asked him to and we were home before we knew it. Or maybe the entire ride was a blur because I was downright drunk out of my mind.
Avery's mansion was even more striking at night. I couldn't help but ponder over the intricate and opulent lighting. Sadly, I didn't have time to enjoy it.
Actually, I wasn't sad. I wasn't sad at all.
Perhaps it was the alcohol in my bloodstream, but I felt euphoric and on top of the world. We were finally going to find Breanna Riley. Again.
While Damien took care of the documentation and registration process for the private jet, I staggered into the gym.
I gulped down like a hundred gallons of water and boosted up the treadmill speed to max. I needed to sober up before going.
Dammit, why did I have to drink so much?
I ran till I was out of breath, sweating as much as I could coax myself to. After drinking some green tea, I did some more running until I collapsed and then began again. I was up all night doing just that.
Within the next hour, I bathed and dressed up and Damien was done scheduling our flight, which was two hours later. We didn't waste a second and flopped into a Sedan that took us to the airport.
It was about five in the morning, our friends would be on their way home from the club or perhaps they passed out there.
Either way, they had no idea about our departure.
Entering the airport, the Sedan came to halt in front of the luxurious, black private jet. The jet's sleek black surface shimmered under the early morning sun hiding behind the clouds.
Its pointy wings stretched out, the engine making a high-pitched, buzzsaw noise as the workers readied it for the next flight.
I had always hated that shrill noise; it made me nauseous just thinking about the journey in a small, enclosed space for hours. But this time, it was inviting. I couldn't handle waiting even for a second.
A single agent checked our documents and we got to board with only mild security checks.
Phil took a seat a bit far away from us, a book in hand.
While taking off, my eyes landed on Damien who was sitting opposite to me. One of his legs was propped on his other knee, his eyes closed shut as he prepared to drift off for the next one hour.
I couldn't help but smile at him.
If it wasn't for him, I would never have gotten where I was so quickly.
I knew I trusted him even when I didn't want to. I had been betrayed by the people closest to me; turned out they were friends with me only for my money and reputation. And then they left.
My heart knew better than to make that mistake again.
The alcohol was beginning to wear off, and nausea and headaches began to materialize. This was the part of the flight that I hated the most – suddenly feeling like you wanna throw up.
Dammit.
When I couldn't handle it, I asked the air hostess for aspirin and made my way into the bathroom.
I took my shirt off and splashed my face with cold water. Placing both my hands on the basin, I looked at myself in the mirror.
I looked like shit.
There was a bruise on my right cheekbone, a very unnoticeable cut stained my bottom lip and my eyes were tired and reddened. I didn't even know which one of my earlier fights had caused which wound. It was hard to tell anymore.
Is this what Breanna Riley was doing to me?
"If she's hurting your mental health, she's not worth it." That's what Dylan had told me last night.
But if she is capable of making me feel all over the place, isn't she more worth it than anything else in the world?
I didn't even know anymore.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. I didn't ignore how the air hostess' gaze traveled down my body as she handed me the aspirin, a glass of water and a cigarette in a tray. I had to say "thank you" just to snap her out of her trance.
Awkwardly, she instructed me on how to take the dozes and even offered to change my bandaged bullet graze. I denied of course. I was in no mood to flirt.
And, come on, I wasn't that bad at bandaging myself, except the fact that it was practically falling off.
I gulped the aspirin down with some water, placed the lit cigarette in my mouth and began changing the bandages.
Light-headed is the way to go!
But then I just decided against it and put the cigarette off in the ashtray, after one drag. It wasn't worth it.
There was a slight turbulence in the plane. The pilot muttered some bullshit through the speakers that I didn't understand, but I didn't move.
I fucking hated turbulence. It made me so sick.
Whenever there was even a slight jump, these halfwits made such a big deal out of it.
Every girlfriend I've ever had to date had asked me if I was a member of the mile high club. And I, oh so proudly, deny it of course.
I was absolutely disgusted by airplanes. It was just something about the small, enclosed spaces, the constant buzzing of the engines and the pressure budging in your ears, making them feel as if they'd explode.
That was kind of a turn-off.
Having sex doesn't even cross my mind.
I lost track of how long I was in the bathroom, just staring at my wretched face in the mirror until the pilot muttered some more bullshit.
Later I was informed to the take the seat for landing.
Fucking finally.
As the plane landed, I twiddled a certain piece of paper between my fingers, reading it, again and again, to hopefully forget about the Earth's surface that was rising towards us with an exceeding speed.
"Whatcha got there?" Damien's sleepy voice reached my ears over the shrill engine noise.
I turned the paper towards him so he could read the message that Breanna had written.
'Carlton, I'm leaving for Massachusetts because I got in some trouble, Breanna.'
"Oh." He stretched in his seat, smirking as he made an inhuman sound. "Is she worth it?"
"Yes." A smile formed on my lips and I realized I haven't felt this motivated to do anything ever before.
Pittsfield was one of the largest cities in Massachusetts.
I was the first one to jump off the plane after landing. I suppose I didn't see it coming when the cold wind hit my face; since I was a Cali boy, I really wasn't used to freezing climates.
Putting on a navy green parka over my U.S. Polo tee, I got seated on the passenger seat of the car. Tapping my feet fretfully, I sighed with relief when Damien finally got behind the wheel and Phil climbed in the backseat.
"Where to now?" I asked him.
"We drive straight to this address." He passed me his phone so I could see. "Flo's men are waiting for us there."
The ride was long and bothersome, draining my patience out of me bit by bit.
I looked over at him, calmly driving the Mercedes, humming a slow song to himself. I interrupted his melody. "Tell me more about Augustus."
"Hmmm..." He pursed his lips. "I can't say I know him very well, but that guy is the real deal. He and your brother, Caden, are supposedly really good friends, or so I've heard."
I scoffed, a mocking snicker left me. "Caden is friends with anyone who makes him more money."
"So he's like your father, then?"
My smile faded when he mentioned him. "It's the opposite actually. My father doesn't have a lot of "friends". And the reason is evident. Perhaps that's why he never got along with Caden."
"But he's still a father." He sent a short glance towards me before focusing back on the road. "I mean, my father's an asshole but he's still got my back."
I could do nothing but smile at his optimism. Even though I had moved on, I still wish that I had a stable family, a group of people I could put all my trust in and knowing they would trust me back.
But that's the thing about trust. You can't trust trust itself. It was a bitch and it broke hearts. I wasn't going to go down that road again.
The car ceased to a halt in a very silent and very sparsely populated neighborhood. The entire street was crammed with old buildings, hotels, and condominiums but only an occasional old man was seen walking his dog.
The sky was stained a light shade of grey, the sun was nowhere in sight and a bunch of dogs were barking somewhere inside the dark alleys and narrow lanes between the building.
"We're here." Damien got off the car and began striding down a certain alleyway.
It was around 9 am, according to Massachusetts' local time, when Phil and I followed him into the depths of this mysterious city. We'd probably end up getting clawed to death by one of those stray dogs in the distance and no one would know.
A group of men appeared as we strolled deep inside. They all had hipster-style clothes on, tattoos snaking down their arms and chains glimmering under the faint light at the end of the alleyway. Some were holding thick, leather belts that were attached to their scary hounds' collars.
Damien greeted them respectfully, followed by my gratitude.
Thank you for finding the girl of my dreams. I hope your hound didn't eat her.
The men spoke using a lot of street slang and occasionally referred to people only Damien nodded his head to. I was feeling anxious, knowing I had to give Breanna's picture to these guys. A decision I absolutely detested.
But then they said something that blew me away and got me choking on my own breath.
One of the guys pointed towards the building we were standing beside and said that this is where she possibly lives.
My mouth hung open in dismay.
He proceeded to say that they had sent the picture to all the members in their gang in Massachusetts, and he was the one who's been keeping a tab on her activities; he was very certain he had found the right person.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, endeavoring to control my heart that was hammering loudly against my chest.
God, stop expecting! They could be wrong! What if it's just some random girl?! The more you expect the harder you'll fall. Keep those emotions at bay.
I was telling myself I was okay but I was not, I was really not and I knew it.
I wanted to see her so badly.
I had been traveling miles and miles to find her and now, she was here.
All of a sudden, a very loud bang of a gun made us all jump in horror.
I gasped, covering my mouth.
Searching everybody's faces, I found that they were all equally taken aback. Some of them were cursing as their glances were glued on a second-floor apartment where it came from.
Unblinking, I tried to wrap my mind around the situation.
Breanna. Dammit!
Before I knew it, I was running towards the front of the building.
"Carl, wait!" I heard Damien's faint voice but I was already on the move.
God, please don't let anything happen to her. Please don't let me be too late. I'm so close.
Hurriedly, I turned my head in all directions, hoping to find an entranceway into this building.
A crowd was beginning to gather around the premises, asking each other if they heard it too. Their faces were pale as day as if they've never heard a gunshot before.
I squeezed from amid the horde, trying to reach the spot where most people were gathered, peeking inside the building through the entry.
Unexpectedly, the crowd began moving aside.
I craned my neck to look over the people and then I saw it.
A hint of auburn.
My breath caught in my throat as I shoved more people aside. Where the fuck were all these people spawning from?!
They cursed at me as I followed the auburn in a sea of white and blonde and brunette.
My heartbeat seemed to become faster as if it wasn't already beating hard enough. How was that even possible?
The crowd dissipated a little and she was now in front of me, walking away somewhere without realizing I was following her.
Her exuberant, flaming hair writhed behind her as she trotted away, her hands coming up to her face occasionally.
Perhaps she was wiping a tear.
I knew it, without even seeing her face, that it really was her.
The world around me collapsed into a blur and all I could see was her. I could walk behind her for a lifetime if I could, making sure she was safe and unharmed.
Why wasn't I able to say anything? It was as if my voice had been stolen from me.
Inhaling the chilly air, I gave my lungs some oxygen to breathe so I could say what I was about to say.
What was I gonna say though?
"Bre–" I began to say but I corrected myself. "Mackenzie!"
My world stopped spinning when she turned around, and I forgot the speech I had prepared. Her sparkling blue eyes were reddened, her cheeks flushed as the tear streaks scarred her perfect skin.
Her lips were as plump as ever, but her glance cried in pain. Her expression was over-wrought, like a broken and withered red flower that ached nurturing. My body urged to close the distance between us, and take her in my arms and tell her I was here now and it was going to be okay.
I watched her lips part slowly as she took in my appearance, hands hanging mid-air.
It was as if the atmosphere was closing in on me, almost knocking me out of breath, pressing down on me until my body gave up.
I could feel it rushing through my veins, tasting like a drug I wanted savor until I died.
She was worth every single wound and every single drop of blood I shed.
I was in love with this girl.
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How was this chapter y'all?!
I am so disappointed with chapter 17 like wtf was that!???
I'm unable to breathe knowing that it still exists as I'm writing this. I'm gonna go now and edit the fuck out of it and make it the best ever chapter brb
#writerfeels
Thank you so much for reading this long ass chapter!!
It's so sweet of you to help my endeavours out and I can never thank you enough. Do vote if you enjoyed it ^^
Love, K!