TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS.

SYLVIA. Running is certainly not an easy feat for me when it comes to my short legs, because trying to run as fast as possible while also getting as much air into your lungs is difficult for someone of my stature and during winter nonetheless. The reason behind why I have found myself in this awful predicament still remains unclear. This isn't the first nor is it the second and most definitely not the last time something like this will happen or has happened to me. It's always the same old pattern with these guys. I'd honestly wish that they'd regroup and try out new tactics in their measly endeavours to capture me. One of the ever so classless buffoons reach out and tries to get a hold of me but the Lord seems to be on my side tonight when I slide down through a narrow path. Turning back around to see if I've lost them when suddenly I'm flipped off my feet and quite literally have the air knocked out of me. Well that's one way to knock a girl off her feet or is it sweep a girl off her feet? The goon that caught me had a proud look on his face, like what he did earned him a reward. Does he want a medal for knocking a kid into the ground or something? He starts chattering on in some foreign language that I'm actually quite fluent in but with the way he's talking, a rabid animal would have been far more easier to understand compared to the gibberish he's spewing. I have no interest in what he's saying to me or at least I think he's saying those words to me, considering the fact that his eyes are on me. Not quite sure though because his face is all covered up, so for all I know he could be speaking to the few of his lackeys circling me. Anyways, my ride should soon be here and with that reminder in my brain, I start counting down the seconds until he arrives. The sound of a motorcycle engine steers me clear from my thoughts and although I'm quick enough to move out of the way, I can't say the same for the three grown men covered in ski masks. The despicable death trap goes all around me and wipes out every single one of them until they all lay unconscious on the floor. "Took ya' b****y long enough! Your timing was off by 0.3 seconds". A tall and lanky boy who looks a bit to lean for his age removes his helmet and smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry Amore but I was getting us dinner because I know how cranky you get when it's past your bedtime". "Whatever, let's just go". He gently helps me up and slips the helmet on me as I try and look for a comfortable position on this piece of degrading metal. The engine purrs to life beneath me and we're on our merry way. Luckily for us we make our way out of the alley and onto the main road. But unluckily for me, my soft tush can't quite handle this much brute force. It is so uncomfortable that my legs have tapped out in this wrestling match to continue to stay on long enough. So I hold on to his arms for dear life. Unfortunately for me nausea has other plans though. Quickly grabbing a lump of his flesh between my thumb and forefinger, I effectively twist it hard which causes him to erupt loud howls of pain. We come to an abrupt stop and I thank my Father in heaven for keeping me in one piece. "Sylvie! Whatchu' do that for?" When he notices my finger pointing to the ground, I'm glad he understands why I momentarily had to destroy a chunk of flesh on his forearm. "Could've just said you wanted to go downsies love. That ain't no way to treat ya' mate". This nincompoop right here is my partner in crime, Brandon. We met two years ago at Aunt Macy's Orphanage or as we like to call it A.M.O. There was just one little problem though because the so called Orphanage A.M.O. wasn't really one. It was actually an international organisation that trains kids of the ages three to fifteen on all things illegal. The place was actually pretty legit because me and Brandon here learned quite the lot of useful information. But I got word one day from the higher ups explaining to the teaching crew on how we kids were ready to be shipped off to only God knows where. So long story short, we escaped. BRANDON. M'lady does not look amused when she says "Desperate times call for desperate measures Bwandon". She's so adorable when she says my name like that and although I know it's because of the braces she has that lisp. I just can't help awing everytime she misses her R's. She'd kill me for mentioning it though, my arm's already messed up, can't have the same thing happening to my heart now. When she starts scanning the area, I take that as my cue and hop off the bike, because Lord knows this girl would get lost and I'd become paranoid. Happened once and I almost lost my damn mind but y'know what they say 'Experience is the best teacher' and that must be true because I'd rather have a bullet graze my face than to ever loose sight of this curious little girl ever again. "Would you get a move on it? I found us a car". Looking towards the direction her eyes are facing, I spot a sleek looking black beauty just bathing in the moonlight next to a gas station. I turn to her and see a mischievous grin on her face when asking "What's the plan?" You see me and Sylvie are truly meant for each other because we both think alike. She's beauty and brains while I'm the brawn but also half the brains too. She innocently goes up to the unsuspecting mister whose eyes are glued to his phone. His focus is on the mind controlling screen in the palm of his hand but he still somehow manages to get some fuel in the car. Truly, I despise Sylvie using herself as bait all of the time to help us but no one's exactly going to find a wonky young lad such as myself adorable. Blending into the shadows, I become one with the darkness and quietly manoeuvre behind my dumb prey. "Hello Mister, please could you help me find my Mommy?" "Beat it kid, I ain't buying what you selling" I'm thinking he might be a tough nut to c***k but then my Sylvie turns on the water works and I know for sure that he's a goner. He succeeds in falling for my cute Sylvie's manipulation when he bends down and tries to console her. That's my cue to leave the shadows and strike him with as much strength as I could muster up, aiming for the back of his head. "How tasteful" she sarcastically says. "Mi dispiace amore but I didn't want him touching you with his grubby hands". SYLVIA. "So love, where we off to?" He questions me as I struggle to open the kids Mc Happy Meal. Normally, he's the one to open my water bottle, cut my food up and do all that gentlemanly stuff. However, both of his hands are occupied at the moment but suddenly a light bulb goes off in my head and I rummage through my mane of curls to retrieve my trusty Bobby pin. Even though it's a bit crusty and quite slippery from all the sebum my scalp excrets on a daily, it gets the job done when I successfully puncture a hole into the bag. The savoury smell of greasy potatoes and crunchy chicken nuggets waft through air in the car. "That right there smells amazing! Could you please feed me some Sylvie?" And as if on cue, his stomach growls. "No way, these are mine! Where's yours Brandon? And the last time I checked mate, you've got them hands for a reason". "Si, but I'm driving love and it's a pretty tasking job to do when both my legs barely reach the pedals. Besides, I don't want to risk it putting you in danger". To get him to stop yapping, I grab his own Happy Meal box, stab it open and start feeding him the fries. The b****y lad! He's enjoying this way too much I tell ya! "Destination— the London Airport, we're going to Italy". Brandon has been driving for three hours straight nonstop and I'm scared to admit that I'm a little worried about him. He's already dozed off five times on the wheel! I'd offer to take over but I don't know the first thing about driving! It's already midnight and we've still got a good two hours till we get there. I checked a while ago at one of those Internet cafes for online flights. So it's either we continue to drive and pray that Brandon doesn't crash into something or we have to wait a whole twenty four hours for the next flight. We are in quite the pickle because we've both run out of money, electronics, and a safe place to sleep at. Most motels don't exactly welcome kids, nonetheless two broke kids. I take it as a sign from the Lord when the car slowly comes to a stop by the side of the road. Great! We've run out of gas. On the bright side I recline both mine and Brandon's seat back because he's out cold. I wind down the windows halfway because it's quite stuffy and I'm asthmatic but funnily enough don't have any inhaler on me. Well I'm not too worried about that because I'm sure that the Lord will protect me. However, Brandon did offer to give me CPR if I do have difficulty respiring. The i***t, I told him that's not how it works. Getting the large blanket that I found in the boot of the car, I spread it on the both of us and say a quick prayer to my Father while holding Brandon's hand before I drift off into dreamland.