EIGHTEEN

~Jake~

            Light streamed brightly through the café windows, exposing the red lines running down her arm from where it had been resting on the floor’s deep square patterns. Deeming it insignificant she rose and turned about the room, gathering blankets and pillows, stuffing them all into their appropriate bags. Standing over the battered black bag, she dug through it, searching for clothing for that day. She felt eyes on her back, that peculiar feeling of being watched raised goosebumps on her arms and caused her to shiver. She raised her self up, change of clothes in hand, only to be smashed to the floor, a strong force hitting her with unimaginable strength and power.

            Her right arm hit the ground with a sickening crack. Heavy breathing above her made her turn her head. Breathing heavily down her neck was none other than Richard. His eyes were wild, their normal color ringed in a furious red. Teeth bared, his face was contorted in rage. Jake twisted, trying to get away. Jake could feel his chest vibrating with primate growls. Heat burnt through the hands pinning her against the ground. She tried to cry for help, but her throat was glued shut, tight with fear.

            “Help,” she rasped, painful tears scraping out of her wind pipe. Richard’s sharp knees pressed excruciatingly against her back. Briefly she caught sight of Adrian and Richelle, both fast asleep. She wiggled her wrists beneath his hands, pain shooting through her with each twist. Jerkily, she was pulled up, back forced painfully against the metal door jam.

            “Let’s go,” Richard growled in her ear. Using something she couldn’t see, he bound her wrists together. He snatched the clothes from her hand and threw them roughly in her bag. He slung it over his shoulder, grabbed guns from Adrian’s stock pile in his bag and shoved Jake out the door in front of him.

            Jake glanced back at the room. The sleeping brother and sister looked peaceful, unaffected by the pain that they lived in. She stared at the red streak on the floor. She had known she couldn’t get away. She forced Richard’s hand to scratch her arm, stealthily wiping a thick streak of blood on the floor. She hoped it would be enough.

~Adrian~

            “Adrian! Adrian!” Richelle cried into his ear. Shaking his head, he stared blindly up at her. The sun shining in the glass windows burned against his eyes. Adrian could see Richelle’s dark silhouette hovering above him.

            “What? What is it?” he grumbled.

            “We have a major problem!” Richelle cried, her voice rising an octave.

            “Go tell Jake. She’ll take care of it.” He complained, rolling over. His head pounded with the memory of his terrible nightmare.

            “That’s the problem! She’s gone!” Richelle tugged the blanket off his back but he was already on his feet. He spun around the room, staring at the empty hole in the room.  Her bag was gone along with everything she owned. Anger flashed through his mind, she had left them.

            “Where is Richard?” he growled.

            “Not here either. It looks like they left together,” mumbled Richelle. Tears pricked at her eyes, staring at Adrian with unfathomable misery. Adrian’s hands were clenched in tight fists, his anger and sadness threatening to make his head explode.

            Something caught his eye, sidetracking his anger. A thin red streak stretching across the floor, starting where Jake’s bed had rested. He knelt down next to it, already fearing what it could be.

            “It’s blood,” he whispered. “It’s most likely Jake’s but we can’t know for sure.” He lifted himself up, only to be attacked by Richelle. She wrapped her arms around his waist, just like when they had be kids. She hugged him tight, burying her face into his chest. Adrian hugged her back, he hoped that this meant that she hadn’t left them, but he knew that it also meant that she had been taken by force by their unwelcome guest.

            “We have to help her,” Richelle cried. “She needs us.” Her voice was quiet, cracking in different places.

            “We will. Get your stuff together. We’re moving out.” His command was short, quiet but forceful. Richelle packed her things. Adrian began stuffing things into his own bag, only to notice that one of his guns was missing. Growling he roughly finished packing and slung his bag across his shoulders.

            “Let’s get moving,” he barked. Richelle followed Adrian out the front doors, walking quickly. They followed the disturbing muddy footprints into the dark forest.

            “Why does their always have to be a dark creepy forest,” joked Richelle, ignoring the soft squish of mud around their shoes. Adrian gave a gloomy chuckle, keeping his eyes on their path.