It turns out breaking into places isn't as hard as one may think it to be; it's the getting out part that sucks. . .
"Let me go!" I called out from the back seat of a local Police car. My voice catching between the metal bars, in which were the only thing separating me from the two cops who obviously had nothing better to do with their night than bust me for breaking into a motel for a quick shower, and a nap. "I wont repeat myself." I warn, but receive barely a glimpse of a reaction, as I weighed the eyes of the officer driving from the rear view mirror. Truth is, if I wanted to, I could easily escape. Kick out the barred space between us, and push past, and out one of their doors. Or better yet, kick out my own door, and save the struggle of fighting through them. But in earnest, I was enjoying the company for once. It had been several weeks since I had had any.
"How's bout you tell us what you were doing breaking and entering in the first place?" The driver asked. His rugged complexion, and aged expression giving away his age like rings in an old oak tree. "I am assuming your parents are wondering where you've been. Are you a runnaway, kid? Tell us now, or. . ."
"I am not a child officer, and I can assure you, my parents aren't even aware I am alive."
"Ain't that what they all say?" The other officer began with a laugh; annoyance clear in his tone. In comparison to the driver, this one seemed barely out of school himself. Between his fiery red colored hair, rather than the other officer's whose was a salt and peppered mixture, his eyes held something to be reckoned with; a will to use his newly acquired powers. I doubt this would have been his first choice of many jobs; a teenage runaway- on a Saturday night?
"Maybe, but I'm not like everyone else, and you would do well to remember that." I quickly say, this time earning a slight smile from the driver. The sight of the act causing me to wonder how many other teenagers he's heard say the exact same thing for their excuse. "Look me up, if you think I am lying. Just know I warned you fair and square ahead of time."
"Alright, I'll bite." The driver said, pulling over to the side of the road. Almost too quickly, he pulls out a laptop I hadn't seen, and skims his fingers over the reader bringing the screen to life. The bright white of the screen pricking at something behind my eyes; out of discomfort I had to look away, and I listened to his fingers along the keyboard as I did. "Okay, ki- I mean, miss. What's ya name?"
Briefly, I ponder on the thought of giving them a fake name, when curiosity bested me. Just as I open my mouth although to response, something strange happened. It started out as a faint muffled noise, almost like white noise from an old television, but then it became louder, and more pronounced. Like a sea of voices voiding out any thought I could have, and blending it all into a contorted roar. And then it stopped. I face the drivers eyes in the rear view mirror, in which by how confused they seemed, told me I had been alone in experiencing whatever that had been. But then something else happens, and suddenly the car jerks right as if hit from the side at an accelerated speed, one in which a mere car, in the middle of a nowhere street, wouldn't be able reach between such short distances.
As our bodies move against the force of the hit, my mind rambles on, and eventually we fall into a cradled ditch. The vehicle itself, fell practically vertical in position. That's when I could hear it, them; their voices outside the car growing closer by the second. Like a bad dream I was about to relive all over again, my stomach rolls with nervous knots. My hand moving out of habit to steady it as I try to stay calm, and listen.
"Holy- did you have to be so rough?" One of them yelled to the other. It was a woman's voice, fair and dainty like.
"Yes, I did," The other responded. This one male. "What does it matter anyways? If it's her, than she is dead already. It's not like the blow would have hurt her."
Hanging mid-air, I notice the sullen silence that came with his last statement. A single word triggering whatever new instincts I might have developed, and giving me the final push to get out and leave. Dead. The words repeats itself in my head, and I rip the seat belt from its buckle, and reach out just in time to brace my fall against the metal bars. When I do, instinctively my eyes follow with the direction I fell, and find the bloody mess of a front cabin where the driver, and the other officer sit dangling themselves amidst their seats. The officer not driving seemingly worse off than the other, as I can smell the faint iron of a gun shell before I see the bullet wound where one must have burrowed within him. Rookie mistake, my inner mind scolds him, although seconds later she finds herself regretting it.
"Not the point K, and you know it!"
"Whatever, Sue. Let's just get her, and go home, okay?"
Forcing myself to look away, I push up from the metal window, and place a hand on the right passenger side door and push. Immediately the hinges give way, and the door falls freely to the ground. Before I have a chance to think, I jump and head for the field beyond the ditch. I passed two Private Property signs before I could hear them catching up.
"Stop!" The woman's voice call out from somewhere in the distance, but I had no intentions of slowing to ask her why.
Especially not after seeing what they did to those two officers; only the one with the gun shot wound will be lucky if he makes it long enough for the ambulance to arrive. Little did he know, my boring teenage runaway would have lead to this. Hell, I never thought it would have lead to this. My worse theory was that they would see that I had been pronounced dead for the past four years, and take me in for questioning, or arrest me for faking my death. I couldn't have an open casket after all, so for all they know I could have had someone lie for me just so that I could leave without people following. They could have thought I was that desperate- but they would be wrong.
"Arya, please!" I heard her call out my name, curiosity biting at my shoes, and was forced to stop dead in my tracks- literally. After all I was dead, in truth, and surprisingly I did stop where my feet had made tracks. In fact, had I been running circles? What the hell is this?