~3~
1121 Words
~TIANA'S POV~
My entire body jerked.
Then another shot followed, quickly turning to multiple fires, popping off in rapid succession.
“Get down!” the tattooed man barked, slamming me into the gravel, covering my head with his arm as bullets tore into the dirt beside us.
My heart was hammering in my chest and for the first time there was actually an emotion in my dead eyes.
Fear.
"Get to somewhere safe and hide," Jacob ordered, pulling out a gun from under his jacket, heading toward the direction where the shots were coming from.
I got up on my feet without wasting a second and started running, looking for any safe place to hide myself from getting shot.
When I noticed a door at the back of the mansion, I immediately went for it, pushing it open and entering, closing it quickly behind me.
I was in the kitchen. My eyes quickly darted around as I moved, making my way upstairs very quickly. I could still hear the gunshots outside, getting very close by the second.
Reaching a long hallway with multiple doors, I tried unlocking the nearest door, but it didn't budge. I moved to the next and then the next...still the same result. They were all locked.
Panic started to creep in under my skin when the next gunshot sounded directly inside the house. I fell to the floor, shaking as I crawled on my knees, still trying the remaining doors.
As if luck shined on me, the next door I tried clicked. I pushed it open immediately, closing it shut after crawling into the room. My heart was slamming so hard in my chest it hurt. My breathing was heavy, sweat sliding under my back, as my palm pressed against the closed door.
I have never felt this terrified in a long time, this terrified of dying.
God, I thought I was ready to end it all. I thought I wanted death more than anything else, but now I was certain I still wanted to live, I still craved breathing.
After calming down a little, I finally turned to take a glance at the room I'd barged into. It was dim, almost completely dark except for a small source of light coming from the bedside lamp.
At first I couldn't make out anything, but squinting my eyes at the bed, I immediately jumped in fear, my back hitting the door when I saw someone lying on there.
On closer look, I realized that the person was asleep and was in fact a man. My shoulders relaxed a little, and I decided to move closer, my steps slow and cautious.
There were tubes attached to the man's mouth, a monitor beeping beside his bed. He wasn't just asleep, he was in a coma. My eyes wandered carelessly over his face.
God, he was handsome, more handsome than any man I'd ever come across. Maybe Marcus could compare in facial card, but this man would win. His lashes were long and full, thick eyebrows, pale reddish lips.
What a feast to the eyes he was, too bad he was a vegetable. I wondered what got him in this condition. My gaze drifted down to his hand and I reached down slowly and held his hand, gently raising his arm up to stare at his fingers. They were well groomed, and trimmed.
My finger rubbed his palm. They were mildly soft and a little cold. That was when I noticed a tattoo on his hand stretching all the way from his wrist up; the rest of it was covered by his shirt sleeves.
Instead of stopping there, I let curiosity get the better of me, and I leaned down, staring at his face, my breath ghosting over his pale lips.
Up close, he looked unreal. Like something carved from marble and left to waste away in this dark room. The steady beep... beep... beep of the monitor was the only sound aside from the muffled gunfire still raging continuously outside.
My fingers trembled as I reached out. I knew I shouldn’t be touching him. But for some reason, my hand moved before my mind could stop it.
I brushed the backs of my fingers against his cheek. His skin was cool, yet smooth. No stubble. Like someone took care to keep him clean even while he was trapped here in this state.
I let my hand slide down, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, down to his throat where a faint pulse throbbed beneath my fingertips. His pulse was so low I could barely feel it.
My eyes dropped to his lips again. They were slightly parted from the tube taped at the corner of his mouth. Reddish and soft-looking.
God, what was I doing?
I should’ve backed away. Should’ve hidden in the corner and waited for the gunfire to stop then left this room. But instead, I stayed crouched beside his bed, my hand still on his face, my chest fluttering... wait, my chest was fluttering.
My heart skipped at the realization.
Maybe it was because he looked as helpless as I felt. As trapped as I felt I was, or maybe because, for the first time since my memory could serve, for the first time in 3 years since my family's m******e, I finally felt like I was connected to something, that thing being this comatose man.
I shifted closer, my knee pressing into the mattress, my other hand gripping the edge of the bed to steady myself. I leaned in, close enough that his breath, if he had any without that machine, would’ve mixed with mine.
I just wanted to feel something that wasn’t fear, pain, agony, or numbness.
My thumb brushed over his lower lip, feeling the warmth under my thumb.
His eyes suddenly blinked open, and my body froze, blood turning to ice.
It was like my brain completely shut down for the next few seconds. He was looking directly at me, his grey eyes burning into mine with one question I assumed.
'Who the f**k are you?'
My hand was still on his face. His eyes dropped to it for a second, then back to mine, and I swear the beeping sound from the monitor sped up.
I quickly jumped off the bed, my heart hammering heavily against my ribcage as I backed away. But then, my foot caught on something and I lost my balance, falling backward, my head slamming into the wall.
A sharp pain immediately tore through my skull, red blocking my vision. I tried to clear my eyes, but touched something thick and wet; blood.
'I'm bleeding.' was the last thought that crossed my mind before everything went black.
- Writer
