BitterSweet - 1

Chappie 9

Shit

I stared at James laying on the ground. No because he was going to get up right? Because no one just dies, not people you like, not your friends. They don't just drop down from a bit of metal. Blood ran down and stained his white t-shirt. It was as if everything was in black and white but the red hue of blood still glowed,

"James!!!" I ran through the closing gates. Ignoring the pain as I squeezed through the gap,

"Scarlett! No get inside!!!" Gorilla ran forwards in slow motion. He jumped out in front of me and the crack of a bullet filled the silent air again. I stared at Gorilla who fell to the ground. I didn't even know his name. He probably had a family, kids. He couldn't be dead.I saw the blood flowing down from his chest.I jumped forwards and fell down to the pavement, grabbing James.his eyes were open. Dull and glazed,open but they weren't gazing into this world. He was somewhere else. The first person I'd kissed. My friend who had brought me lunch when I had been dressed as a tramp,

"Scarlett!" I heard someone calling me but it didn't matter. James's hair was so soft and blond. I'd never knew how soft it was. I ran my fingers through it, and laid my head down on his still warm cheek. A silence I could never explain filled the world. I felt broken. It was a feeling I was getting used to,

"James. I'm so sorry." I whispered. He was suppose to get up and smile at me with his blue beach eyes, that's what was suppose to happen. He wasn't suppose to leave me, we were going to go to the beach together. The first thing you realise when someone dies is there are usually no last farewell speech. They just die. Someone was grabbing me but I held onto James, his blood was warm on my hands. My clothes and hair. I didn't care,

"Come with me b***h," I heard the voice in my ear and stared up at a slimy looking man with yellow stained teeth. His grip dug into my skin,

"Why did you kill him?" I muttered. The man laughed,

"Just a stupid kid." He chuckled,

"He was my friend."

I couldn't process what was happening. The man had a black moustache and brown beady eyes. He was wearing black shabby clothes and stunk of B.O. A grubby hand grabbed me but then...

Crack!

The bullet must have hit him because his face looked at me in pure shock. I glanced up and saw Clay clutching a gun. He was breathing deeply. Bad ass mode. His face was cold, it scared me,

"Get up!" He hissed,

"But.."

"GET THE HELL UP!" He screamed at me and pointed the gun at my head. What? No, Clay was good he wouldn't. He pulled the trigger. I screamed. I swear I felt the bullet skim my hair, and hit a guy who was behind me,

"Come on Scarlett. Get up!" Clay grabbed my hand and heaved me to my feet,

"James..."I muttered,

"Dead." He grunted and pulled me along,

"I can't leave him here..." I whispered,

"You have to," He pulled me hard away from James's body. Bullets whizzed past my ear. There were men by the van staring at us, shooting and missing by millimetres. Loads of ugly looking men,

"The house?" I asked. He shook his head and shot out bullets from his hand gun. I was shaking. The only reason I was running was because of a firm grip on my hand. I wanted to collapse to the pavement and give up. My heart was racing and we were running. I didn't have any shoes on. The pain as stones dug into my feet kept me sober....

Bang!

Clay grunted and bent over,

"Clay!" He was still standing but doubled over. I screamed again, my voice tearing from my lungs. My head dizzy. Not Clay no please, not him,

"Keep running." He groaned and held his stomach,

"Clay?" No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. He grabbed my hand again and pulled me along. He was running again. How was he running? Wasn't he shot? There was no blood,

"I'm OK. Flack jacket." He muttered and shot down some men, without hesitation. Flack jacket, like in the James Bond films? A bullet proof vest, the bullets must have been hitting that instead of him. Clay opened the car and pushed me inside. I watched him run around to the driver side. Hurry up, he was too late. I heard the crack of the bullet again, Clay's grunt in pain echoed out. I didn't scream this time. I opened the car door,

"Get back inside. I'm OK." He gasped and jumped into the drivers seat. There was blood covering him now. His face splattered with it, but it was from his arm.I could see the wetness of red all along it. He fiddled with the keys and somehow started the engine. How he could do this, with a bullet wedged in his arm, was beyond me. Clay slammed the car into reverse and sped down the empty street. We drove off the main street and down into a small road covered in tree's either side. For just under an hour he sped along roads in silence. His eyes darting into the mirror every few seconds. Searching, waiting,

"Get down." Clay shouted. I got down because the men in those vans had found us. I could see them in the mirror. The bullets came then,

Smash The windscreen shattered.

Grunt A new bullet hitting Clay.

Pop A bullet had hid our wheels.

The car swerved into the tree's. I screamed. My heart seemed to stop...

Mum and Dad were arguing. I was sat in the car, Dad swerved to avoid the deer and we tumbled into the tree's.

"Scarlett get out." Clay broke into my vision,

"Where are we going?" I asked. He shuddered slightly,

"We have to run. Please, no questions not yet." He gasped. I stared at his arm, where blood oozed out thickly. He followed my gaze, "I'll be OK." He mumbled and shoved the car door open. He wasn't OK. His face was white and speckled in blood. He was shaking. The sound of the men following us had disappeared. I looked around. We were in a woods, birds sang happily in the treetops and the sun glinted down. This was wrong, so wrong, bad things didn't happen when it was sunny,

"Clay...." I whispered. I was trying to hold it together and failing. Sure I'd seen bodyguards get shot in the pasted but I'd always managed to detach myself from ever thinking or caring about it. As bad as it sounded, it was a way I'd managed to cope,

"In the boot, get out the first aid kit and the rucksack," He muttered. I done as he said. Because this was serious. He was shot, but alive. How could he be alive? What was he? A machine?

"We probably have about half an hour before they send more people out for you." He said as I passed him the bag. No, they should leave us alone now, that's what happened, the kidnappers came and went away,

"But why we just call the police and go home?" I asked biting my lip. He rummaged through the bag,

"We can't go home Scarlett. Don't ask any questions OK? Not now..." Guilt swooped his face when he looked at me. I let it go because to be honest the look on his face, well what ever it was, it was pretty bad. Everything was already to bad for me to handle right now. I stared at my feet which were bleeding. I wish I had shoes. Then it hit me. Everything I had kept back because we were running hit me. James was dead and Gorilla. I didn't even know his name. He had took a bullet for me. s**t. The tears came then. Rolling thick and heavy down my cheeks and once they started they wouldn't stop,

"Scarlett pass me the vodka." Clay gasped. I looked at him and his arm. Oh my god. He had pulled out the bullet and blood was spewing from the rip in his arm. He had a needle and cotton in his skin. Was he...Oh my god,

"Are you sewing up your arm?"