BitterSweet - 1

Chapter 18

I hear voices. Hear the sound of guns echoing. A car's tires screech.

PAIN

I hear someone's scream. The sound of a soft voice saying every things going to be OK and then I'm back inside the dark reunited with pain. Nothing but agony, would dying be better? I'm awake once more and I open my eyes, feeling his arms around me carrying me, as he runs. Black hair flicking with each step he takes, sweat dripping along his cheeks and his green eyes are filled fear,

"It's OK Scarlett. We're going to be OK." I watch his face strain with each step he runs. Hear the sound of more bullets slam into the air and he puts me gently on the ground, he's gone and I enter the blackness again and god damn it everything hurts. I return and I'm laying on a soft cushion seat, next to me he's driving, blood covers his top, his arms. He looks like a butcher who's been working all day. I suppose I should feel scared but everything hurts too much for me. He looks at me,

"Some people are following us as always, don't worry." He mutters and I don't worry because I'm gone again. I wake up in a small dark room. Clay sits with me his head resting on his knees. He looks at me with a face full of bruises and dried blood, but I'm too out of it too speak,

"Yeah well, we will be out of here in a minute." He mutters and smooths my hair and I'm gone again. Inside a blackness which I won't I fear I'll never spring from.

*******

"You've been missing my episodes Scarlett." Damon's green eyes gaze into me,

"I can't watch them. I'm dead." I mutter and look at him. Wow he is hot,

"Your not dead yet." He smirked and winked. My heart melted. I am in heaven, and Damon Salvatore from vampire diaries is talking to me...

"Am I a vampire then?" I ask frowning. Where in a big room which is filled with dark wood and old books. I realise it's his house which is so cool,

"No. Unfortunately your not that either." He bent over and places a soft kiss on my cheek and my heart stops as I wake up...

"Crap. Ow." I mutter before I open my eyes. My leg hurts, my head is killing and I'm alone in a small yellow room. A computer beeps next to me and wires hang from my wrists. It's not a hospital though, more like the room Clay was in. Clay, where was he? I feel hollow inside as visions from jumping out the van blast at me. I had shot someone, probably killed the man. The door swings open and I hold my breath, but it's not Clay, it's Amilla. She stares at me with her cold ice blue eyes,

"It's your fault." She says and picks up some files from the bottom of the bed,

"What's my fault?" I ask in shock. She doesn't look up from the paper,

"That you're here." She mutters and pulls out some wires from my arms. Ow, stupid ice b***h,

"How is all this my fault!" I almost shout,

"You ran away and Clay, who feels responsible for you, went after you. You should have just stayed and waited for him to get better." She tuts and hands me a small mint green drink, "Drink it."

"I ran away because I thought I was doing the right thing! Where is Clay?" I drank the horrible drink,

"Clay is busy being your bodyguard because that is what he is Scarlett." She looked up at me all serious for a moment,

"I know. I hired him." She's speaking to me like I'm dumb and argh! It's damn annoying,

"Don't forget that is all he is to you." Amilla says just as the door swings open and this time it is Clay. He looks refreshed, well dressed in a sparkling white top, and he smells like soft pine aftershave. Oh yes, my body guard is hot, steaming hot. Fry an egg on his chest, sizzling hot. I melt inside staring at him but he barley glances at me and that's when I know something's wrong. He looks out the window, staring for something. Amilla walks up to him and whispers unknown words. She stands too close to him, rests a manicured hand on his shoulder, and then with a glaring look at me she walks out. The room is silent, and I close my eyes. My whole body aches, my leg throbbing. When I open them Clay's green deep eyes are looking at me,

"How do you feel?" He asks and glances back out the window. I ignore the question,

"What's happening?" I ask,

"Nothing. We're safe here for awhile. You've been out for five days." He mutters. Wow I should be feeling wide awake but I'm still tired.

"OK. So when do we leave?"

"In a week. I think." He looks back out the window. I watch him in silence. Crap. What are we doing here? How long do we have to run? Until they get me? Until they kill us? How long till I get home? Suddenly I feel utterly depressed and hurting inside. I want my dad. I want Clay. I just want my old life back. A sob escapes my lips and Clay looks at me, his face filled with regret and pain. He hesitates and then steps over to me,

"I'm sorry Scarlett." Clay whispers and sits on a chair, pulling it closer to me,

"I just, I want it to be over." I mumbled ashamed of my tears,

"I know" He grabs my hand and squeezes it. His touch fills me with heat, and I want to, oh crap I know what I want. I want to kiss him again because a kiss would help me. Clay stares at me with his green eyes. How many girls have drowned in them? What have those eyes seen? I realise how little I know about Clay in that moment,

"I thought you were going to die." He mutters,

"I should have. It would have been better." And I'm not feeling sorry for myself. It's true. I really believe it. I should have died.

"Stop it." He mutters. More tears run down my face. I'm so tired but Clay is leaning into me, and oh my god, he's going to kiss me again. I lean forward ignoring the pain which runs through my body because I need him. I need his touch and yet inches from my lips Clay blinks and pulls away. He stand up quickly and returns to the window,

"I'm sorry." I say wiping away my tears. I don't know why I sorry,

"I can't Scarlett. I just can't..." He looks at me, green eyes begging for me to understand something which I find so complicated, "...I can't do this with you OK? I have to protect you. I've messed up so many times and..."

"You didn't mess up that bad. I'm still alive." I mutter. He sighs and walks to the door,

"I'll come and see you soon." He leaves. I can still smell his soft pine aftershave drifting around the room hours later.