Post by Brokenhearts on Dec 19, 2006 17:21:10 GMT -5
i dunow how 2 carry it on
She stirred, moving her shoulders and arms, her eyes fluttered open. A gun pointed in her face. She wasn’t to sure about it at first, frowning. It was all blurry. Her senses were dulled and confused. She felt lost and she did not like it. Slowly she felt hard corrugated iron under her back, limbs and head. It was cold and uncomfortable. Her clothes were damp, and clingy. Her hair too was damp. She vaguely remembered jumping to a pond, trying to save who she thought was Rider, then being grabbed, under water, and knocked out. Just blackness after that.
She locked her slowly sharpening gaze on the barrel. And looked up at the piecing eyes. She grounded.
“Not you,” she said, shaking her head, “mum was always right… I always fall for the bad guys.”
The boy in front of her smiled slowly, smiling maliciously. The normal smile he had was, kinda sweet, dangerous, yes, but still. She always had that habit.
“Enough talk,” he growled at her, “you’ll get to talk to saint Peter soon enough.”
She just snorted. She was used to death threats, she wasn’t afraid of death. She wouldn’t have to put up with the pain of knowing she had failed her uncle and aunt. It would have been worse if he was to let her live. Even if she knew she had so much more in her life to learn.
But she had to know something first. “Kill me,” she shrugged, “I don’t care. But I have to know something first. What did you do with Sebastian Armstrong?”
The boy smiled lazily. “Why would I answer that?”
“Because you’re about to kill me. It’s my final wish. I might be some kind of traitor in your eyes, but I’m still human. I have the right of a final wish. What have you done with Seb?”
His smiled, slowly, teasing her.
Her eyes grew wide and scared.
“What have you done with him?!”
She had to protect him. She promised. He couldn’t be dead. That’s wrong!
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM!”
She stirred, moving her shoulders and arms, her eyes fluttered open. A gun pointed in her face. She wasn’t to sure about it at first, frowning. It was all blurry. Her senses were dulled and confused. She felt lost and she did not like it. Slowly she felt hard corrugated iron under her back, limbs and head. It was cold and uncomfortable. Her clothes were damp, and clingy. Her hair too was damp. She vaguely remembered jumping to a pond, trying to save who she thought was Rider, then being grabbed, under water, and knocked out. Just blackness after that.
She locked her slowly sharpening gaze on the barrel. And looked up at the piecing eyes. She grounded.
“Not you,” she said, shaking her head, “mum was always right… I always fall for the bad guys.”
The boy in front of her smiled slowly, smiling maliciously. The normal smile he had was, kinda sweet, dangerous, yes, but still. She always had that habit.
“Enough talk,” he growled at her, “you’ll get to talk to saint Peter soon enough.”
She just snorted. She was used to death threats, she wasn’t afraid of death. She wouldn’t have to put up with the pain of knowing she had failed her uncle and aunt. It would have been worse if he was to let her live. Even if she knew she had so much more in her life to learn.
But she had to know something first. “Kill me,” she shrugged, “I don’t care. But I have to know something first. What did you do with Sebastian Armstrong?”
The boy smiled lazily. “Why would I answer that?”
“Because you’re about to kill me. It’s my final wish. I might be some kind of traitor in your eyes, but I’m still human. I have the right of a final wish. What have you done with Seb?”
His smiled, slowly, teasing her.
Her eyes grew wide and scared.
“What have you done with him?!”
She had to protect him. She promised. He couldn’t be dead. That’s wrong!
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM!”