Chappie One

954 Words
(Give me a follow and a comment please? Thank you!) We don't talk. Somehow Flynn has got us checked into a rather shabby looking Motel, even though only three hours ago he said we had no money. The room is tiny with a single bed that's suppose to be a double. Outside rain is hammering, dripping along the dirty windows, a wind howling on the pane. I watch the drops of liquid, transfixed with each dribble racing away into nothing. The silence is numbing after the chaos in the warehouse. The warehouse. How can two days change everything I had ever known? Two days ago I had slept in Clay's arms, excited and scared about resucing my dad and now... Now I've lost both of them and I'm stuck in this stinking cheap room with the wrong brother. My body is a mess of open wounds and dried blood, the gun shot wound, stiched together in haste and bandaged in thick plasters. Turns out we couldn't go to the hospital. I'm still a wanted women. So Flynn had called the ever polite ice queen Amilla, "You left him there." She says in the gloomy room, "You just ran away without him." "You have no idea what you're talking about Amilla. You didn't see what it was like." Flynn sighs, "We we're lucky to get out ourselves." "You should have called me!" She hisses, "I could have helped!" "No offence, but you may be trained in first aid but fighting? Not so much." "You have to go back." She demands. I don't stare at them. I'm barely listening to the argument. I don't blame Flynn. He saved us. I don't blame him and yet I do. The thoughts make me swirm with guilt. I got the wrong brother. It should have been Clay with me, "We can't go back to the warehouse. It's covered in Cops. It's a ruin now anyway." He grunts, "I'm going back there. Maybe someone will know something that can lead us to Clay." She snaps and leaves the room in an icy hurricane. Silence fills the air again and consumes me, "Scarlett?" Flynn whispers softly. I ignore him, "Scarlett, you should get cleaned up." He sounds worried. Maybe it's because my hands are still stained red with the blood of my dead dad, maybe it's because for the last few hours all I've had the strength to do is stare and try to keep my thoughts numb, "Come on, I'll help you." He leans forward and gently touches my arm, "Don't!" I hiss. I'm being unfair, I know I am. Flynn didn't have a choice. He had to get us out. If he hadn't acted we would be dead and then no one could help Clay, "Why did you make me leave him?" I whisper. A single tear rolls down my cheek. I don't want to cry, I'm afraid if I start I wouldn't be able to stop, "I had to." He mutters, runnning a strong hand along his battered face, "I had to." "We could have saved them!" I cry softly. The words are a lie, I know they are, but inside me my heart is snapping into two, "I wish...I wish Clay was here instead of me." He mumbles. I stand from the chair and glare at him, "Me too." I growl before heading into the tiny shower room. It's a mean nasty comment, I see Flynn's face before I slam the door. A look of deep rooted sadness and yet I can hardly take the words back now. I stare into a dusty mirror in shock. My face is patched in blood, a thin cut sliced down my cheek, green eyes hollow and empty. I look dead, "Scarlett..." Flynn's voice vibrates through the door, "We'll find him. We'll get that bastard and help Clay." "The bastard is your Dad." I sigh and lean against the wall, eyes watching the running bath, "You couldn't kill him the this time, what makes you think you can do it next time?" My voice is cold, unfeeling. I've used all my tears, used all my emotions. I open the door to stare him in the eyes, "He didn't have Clay last time." He says staring at me with eyes that look just as dead as mine, "So what's the plan? Find your Dad, kill him and rescue Clay?" I grunt, "Pretty much, we don't stop searching until we find..." The front door of the motel's room squeaks open cutting into his words. Flynn is quick to react, a gun in his hand that I never saw him wearing. His body protecting me. I peer around his iron like body, "Clay?" I whisper. My heart stops in my chest. My legs weak with the sight of him. Rain drenching his shirt, slithering down his skin. He doesn't move from the open door way, blue eyes blinking at Flynn, "How did you get out?" Flynn takes two steps forwards and stops midway, "Clay?" "Don't look for me." His voice is a whisper in the silent air, "I don't want to be found." He then finally meets my shocked face, "I don't want you." "Clay what do you..." He's already turning away. Slamming the door on our shocked faces, "Flynn we have to go after him!" I begin to run out the door, when he grabs my arm, "Stay here. I'll go." "But..." "No. Scarlett. Please listen just wait. I'll come back ok?" The frantic worry in his eyes makes me, for the first time in my life listen, "Hurry." I whisper. Flynn nods and in a blur he's racing from the motel room, out into the thundering rain, "Bring him back to me."
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