This one is titled- guess- The Invincibles. I'm not done with the first chapter, but I really like what I have so far. I love the main character because shes nothing like me, and it's really fun to write in her POV (point of view). And she's really crazy, too. That's one of the few similarities between us. :)
Enjoy- and don't forget to comment! I live on reviews (just ask my Fanfiction readers)!
Chapter 1: Worst Day Ever
I remember each detail of that night; it was dark, and raining, and I was cold and absorbed in my misery- I didn't realize until later how perfect the night had been for a kidnapping.
Normally, I would have enjoyed puddle jumping- but not that night. Normally, I would've danced in the rain- but not that night. Normally, I would've been smart enough to not go walking down a major downtown road in the middle of the night- but especially not that night. My searing agony hindered any rational thought, pulled me from my normal careful shell. It left me blind in the dark, stumbling along an endless road of bitter memories and broken promises.
It started when I got a phone call from my dad's lawyer. I guess it was around 10:30 or so, and I was sitting in a slow bookstore cafe, reading Emma (for the ga-zillionth time).
It was always a bad thing, when Mr. Jaggers called. He'd either tell me that my dad is back in jail, or he's going to trial. Again. This time, it was different.
He was calling to tell me my dad, my last living parent, was dead.
Gone. Eternally sleeping. Not coming back.
And the worst part about it? He had committed suicide. Offed himself because he was too selfish to think of me, his sixteen year old daughter, who may have wanted to talk to him, who may have wanted to see him again, who may have missed him after five years of foster care homes.
I sat there until the place closed, too numb to do anything. From there I wandered to an even slower diner, and from there, the street. I guess it was 12:15. I needed time to think- time to recover- before I got back 'home'. That's why I didn't call my foster family for a ride; that's why I didn't take the bus or catch a cab.
And that's how I got kidnapped, sealing the nightmarish qualities of my declining day.
My hair clung to my face as I wandered down the dark road, water sliding down my back. My jeans were heavier than usual, and I could feel the luke-warm water seeping through to my skin. My shoes squeaked,but I hardly noticed. The wind- I did feel that. I shivered in the storm, for even the slightest gust stole all heat from the warm water. The stinging rain kept my gaze fixed on the sidewalk, and I passed from the shadows into the strained streetlight like a wraith.
The street, normally busy, was silent; any sane person was indoors avoiding this weather or sleeping. Even if the rush hour traffic had been there, I wouldn't have noticed. The lightning didn't make me flinch; the thunder didn't make me shudder. The hurricane in my heart made this physical gale seem like a mere drizzle.
I didn't notice the van trailing me; not the splash of it inching down the wet road, not the sharp smell of exhaust fumes, not the rumble of the engine. Its' headlights were off, in my defense, so it hid in plain sight.
I did noticed when it slid up beside me, stealthy- not the typical squealing of brakes like they show in Hollywood- and I definitely noticed when the sliding door grated open, several men pouncing out onto the street.
Reality crashed onto me like an imploding building- my body moved before my brain recovered. Adrenaline shoved my emotional pain to the side, ordering my feet to start moving, for my ears to start listening, for my eyes to start seeing, for my brain to pick up my broken pieces and glue them together quick, because each and every one was necessary.
I was fast- I used to be in track- but these men were faster. My feet pounded down the slick pavement, and I took a deep breath to scream, but massive hands clamped down on my mouth, another wrapping around my waist. My left arm was pinned to my side, but that didn't stop me from elbowing the man in the gut. His grunt told me I did something good- I struggled and managed to pull away, my mouth opening-
The click of a gun cocking made me freeze, stopped me from following through with my plan. It stopped the breath as I tasted it, it clamped my mouth shut, it stopped my eager feet, sending a shudder down my spine.
“Get in the van.” The man began- his tone didn't fit with the situation unfolding before me. It was the voice of a gentle father, reprimanding a child who had taken a second cookie from the jar, not some thug with a pistol.
“Get in the van, sweetheart, because I don't want to shoot you.”
The man I had shaken off had my arm, and his grip tightened.
But wouldn't they have shot me already if they wanted me?
“Come on, sweetheart.” The man repeated.
I bit my wet lip, scanning the road for any help. There was nothing.
“You have to the count of ten.” The man with the gun began, more force in his voice.
“One.”
He and I started a staring contest.
“Two.”
The beginnings of a plan began putting themselves together, mapping out my epic escape.
“Three.”
That's when the plan began- I bolted.
Whipping around, I smacked the man who held me right in the nose- I felt the crunch of breaking bone as blood gushed over my hand. I kicked the next thug right where it counted, morbidly pleased when he toppled over. Two down already!
I wasn't prepared for the crack of the gun shot, for the blood, for the pain. My leg wailed in protest- the bullet had grazed my calf, ripping through my jeans and spreading blood all over the wet concrete. I ducked from the next thug, punching him in the gut as I slipped through his fingers.
Someone with really calloused hands grabbed my shoulder- I whipped around to face him, punch him, kick him, bite him, something-
He cocked the pistol right between my eyes.
“Now sweetheart, let's not fight.” He murmured, death in his eyes. “Just come along with us and you'll be fine.”
Yeah right.
I let my terror show in my expression- the face of an innocent, frightened teenage girl. A crooked smirk came across his face, and I took my golden opportunity to spit in his eyes. Blinded, he reached up to wipe it away, muttering profanities, but I was faster. I elbowed his nose- too bad his didn't break too- and twisted his wrist. It took more effort than I expected, but in a moment his fingers loosened and I pulled the gun from his grasp.
“Now honey, let's be nice.” I crooned, smiling at him, the gun poking his nose. “If you just leave, I won't hurt you.” His men didn't move, though I could hear them getting up and breathing loudly- I suspected the adrenaline high made them seem louder than they were.
“Got some spunk, don't you?” He asked. I gritted my teeth.
“You're going to get in your van right now.” I smiled, letting my warning burn in my eyes. “And your thugs.”
“They're professional bodyguards.” He corrected.
“Sorry you wasted your money, honey, 'cause they suck. Now, you have to the count of three to move.”
His expression dared me to start counting- I gladly accepted.
“One.”
He started backing away, and I heard the shuffle of his lame guards.
“Two.”
I gave him the sweetest smile I could muster through the growing pain, and using the gun, I encouraged his pathetic minions to move.
“Three.”
They were all in the van- I made sure to notice the one with the broken nose and the other that glared at me with a passion- I must've kneed that one.
“Okay, honey, you're going to shut the van and drive away now.” I smiled, feeling like Professor Umbridge from Harry Potter.
And that's when my brilliant plan and execution fell apart.
Someone caught me around my waist- his arm wrapped all the way around, locking me in his grip. I bashed the gun against his head, blindly flinging my arm back to hit him, but he didn't budge. Rather, he reached to grab it, and that's when I screamed bloody murder.
Distracted, his huge hand clamped over my face, but the sound of my cry echoed in the empty road- surely someone would notice!
“Get in!” The ringleader roared, and the man who held me stumbled forward as I struggled, kicking him, punching him, hitting him over and over and over. He didn't seem to notice, and my hands were really starting to hurt. The force of him dragging me into the van sent the gun skittering across the sidewalk- I watched as my best weapon fell out of reach, horrified.
The thug threw me into the van- literally tossed me in- and I landed on the dirty metal floor, scrambling up again- they weren't done with me yet. Not in a million years.
But the door squealed shut, the massive thug- he was a bodybuilder, or something- clambering to a seat as the van lurched forward.
Yep. Officially the worst day of my life, and it was getting steadily worse.
“You need to stay still, sweetheart.” The leader began, pulling out a box of first aid. “You're bleeding.”
He made the mistake of coming too close. I kicked him in the face with my good leg- watching with vengeful glee as his head snapped back and he slid back, slamming into his minions. My leg throbbed, but I seriously didn't have the time to check it as I turned to see if anyone else dared stop me.
“One of you please hold the girl. She's a tad angry.” The driver laughed.
“You wanna see mad?” I bellowed, my voice sounding so much more threatening than I felt.
“Someone stop her before she hurts herself.” The man sitting shotgun began, his gaze focused on a touch screen he held. “The boss wants her unhurt.”
“Too late for that.” I snarled, backing into the van wall- most of the seats had been taken out, giving the thugs plenty of room.
“Fights like a demon.” One of the thugs laughed. “Who is she, anyway?”
To say I was ticked off would be like calling a tiger a cuddly, family-friendly pet. I watched the thug leader, at least, the one nursing a bruised cheek in the back.
The man with the touchscreen answered- I saw my picture appear in his hands. “Hailey Telliks, age sixteen, weight- a hundred and thirty-two pounds, height- five foot nine and and a half inches, eye color- green, hair color- blond, been in foster care since she was four, 2.74 GPA average... anything else you'd like to add, Hailey?” He asked.
“Sorry, but you've got the wrong person.” I snapped. “Have fun explaining this to the cops.”
“Don't lie.” The touchscreen dude chided me- his tone was no-nonsense. “I know you're Hailey- we've been tracking you the past three months.”
Talk about creepers.
“I was being serious, about adding something to the list. It'll be a help, in the end.” The touchscreen dude continued. I slid over to the door, another, not-as-brilliant, more I'm-freaking-out-so-I'll-do-anything plan throwing itself together.
“Yeah, I've got something to say, besides for the fact that you all are-”
“Be nice, Hailey.” The techy dude interrupted. He had good timing- I felt the van hit the bump I had wanted- and we were on the bridge, right where I wanted us to be.
“You know what?” I began, furious.
“What? I'm tired of you talking, because it's not helping you. Someone put her out please.”
“What? I'm tired of you talking, because it's not helping you. Someone put her out please.”
The gargantuan thug leaned over, throwing a mask over my face. I held my breath as he counted, but he seemed stupid enough to fall for anything, so I only pretended to be falling asleep. My eyelids fluttered; my thrashing grew weaker.
I let my head roll limp over my shoulders, my eyes closed.
“Why do the bosses want her?” One of the cronies asked- his tone told me he was the one with the broken nose.
“Just look at her!” The techy dude sighed. “She fits the age requirements, and admit it, she's smarter than the lot of you, even if her GPA doesn't show it. She's the perfect contender.”
“The other ones didn't struggle as much as she did.”
“What about the third? Didn't he break someone's leg?” The techy dude sighed again, like today was the perfect day. “Yes... she'll be great. I can't wait to see how she turns out.”
That's when I had enough of their chit-chat. Leaping to my feet, I threw open the van door- they had left it unlocked- and flung myself into the street. Suicidal, yes. Unexpected? Undoubtedly. But it worked- I tumbled onto the bridge, rolling and skidding across the pavement, and scrambled to my feet. I was lucky to not have broken anything, though my arms, hands, and face all stung, bruised and scraped up. My leg screamed in pain- I'd have to get a taxi, this time.
I could hear them yelling, the van screeching to a halt, the thugs jumping out the door. How many minions does it take to catch a girl? I thought. I scrambled to the railing of the bridge, grasping the metal bar that was supposed to stop suicides from jumping.
I wasn't really suicidal- but they couldn't exactly follow me when I was swimming, could they? And it was only a thirty foot drop... I tried ignoring that part.
I hissed in pain as something hit my side, and I yanked out a dart.
My mind managed to realize I was in trouble, and then-
Everything went black.
Well...? What do you think? (Oh, and if you have suggestions for her last name, I'll take them. I happened to be listening to Skillet (the song Hero- ironic, right?) and for lack of a better idea, I just flipped it around and plugged it in.) Thanks for reading!
OOOOOOH....I love this.
ReplyDeleteAwesome :).
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