3rd Piece

Here is the 1st post of the one book I was talking about in my 2nd post.

Of course they didn't stop. Why would they? If they want someone dead they get it done in a day. They must want us alive, captured and they’re using the damsel in distress technique. Unfortunately, I know who’s going to be my prince charming. 

I just figure this out when Eric jumps through a window, shattering the glass, and making my head throb even more. Before I can even start to explain what they are doing, he’s sitting next to me. He strokes my hair, which is probably matted down with blood and dirt, making sure to not touch the spot I was hit.

“Eric,” I manage to squeak out.

“Shh. Don’t worry it is ok, everything is going to be ok.”

“No listen to me!” I say with a slightly louder voice, “We need to get out of here!”

We were running from the cops. We just snatched a couple candy bars what was the big deal? But it isn’t the cops I was worried about, it was who they called. Someone must have gotten a good look at me and recognized my face from the posters that are scattered everywhere.

The cops were nothing compared to what I’m running from. They had contacted the Agency, my worst nightmare. I was born and raised there and a while ago I ran away.

They used to be caring until a few years ago.  I once caught a glimpse of a young boy around the age of ten being escorted through the massive doors leading to the Agency. He had obviously been beaten recently since fresh blood was coming out of a slice that ran across his forehead.

I had just come from my sword training and was heading back to my room. I stopped in the middle of the hallway and the boy made eye contact with me for about three seconds and in that short time a little bit of my heart broke for this boy. His face was impassive when he walked through the large hall, but his eyes told a different story.

Something has been wrong with the Agency lately. People have been missing for weeks on end and when they come back, if they come back, they are covered in bruises, cuts, and burns.

I was always taught that it was rude to ask about other people’s scars unless they brought it up first so I said nothing. There were rumors though. They would float around occasionally making their way to me. They were about people being tortured for information, something about a crack in the system.

I always put them off as rumors but when I saw the little boy in front of me, I had a feeling they were true. They would torture their own people and ten year olds for their benefit and that didn’t even seem like it was for something serious. And now they are after me. Awesome.

“Don’t worry its safe now let me check your head,”

Eric starts to turn my head on its side to examine the wound. I am blasted back to the present and remember the situation. We found an abandoned apartment about a month ago and have been staying here, but it is no longer safe, the Agency took this away too.

“NO!” I screech and jerk my head out of his reach, “You don’t understand! We’re going to be captured if we don’t leave right now.”

I start to get up but once standing my vision gets blurry and I fall back down. Right before I hit the floor he catches me. I search his crystal blue eyes hoping he’ll see that it’s not the head injury talking.

“Please,” I whisper.

Sirens start to sound and Eric looks around frantically. I see people in masks coming out of windows, doors, vents, so many different places that I give up trying to see who comes from where. I struggle to stay awake, but right now I feel dead and useless in Eric’s arms. I decide to succumb to the darkness that looks so welcoming compared to my horror of a world.