Spoiler Alert: They Ain't Gonna Make It

27. He's A What?!

Gotta 'nother chapter for you!

It's a PLOT TWIST!! :D

Yay!

You'll never believe it!

Anyway, I give you...

-

CAT AND HARRY

-

"Harry, if you don't let go of my wrist I'm going to kick you in the balls," Cat said through gritted teeth.

Harry had managed to drag Cat all the way up to the announcer's box in the auditorium. He had thrown the door open, relaxed a little when finding the room empty, and slammed it shut behind them, all his nerves back once more. He was sweating and hyperventilating and he felt like he would through up his half-eaten waffles at any second as he tried to get rid of the dizziness in his head.

Cat on the other hand was beyond annoyed and very mad. Whatever lead Harry to freak out and drag Cat all the way up two flights of stairs was probably nothing that bad. She thought that Harry was an idiot, that he couldn't possibly have any intelligent thought and that he was playing a prank on her. Because that was what Harry did best, pranks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his hand lingering a second longer before tentatively pulling away.

Cat rolled her eyes as he checked the door window for something that probably wasn't even real. He acts like he's so innocent, she thought. But he's not.

"Harry, what are we doing in this smelly room?"

"Shhh!" He clamped a hand over her mouth, a spooked look in his eyes.

Is he for real? Nah. He never is.

She licked his hand, which made him pull it away with a scowl and wipe the contaminated limb on his shirt.

"Harry-"

"Keep quiet!" He hissed.

"But why do I need to-"

An ear-piecing shriek erupted from the hallway, followed by bang that could only be described as a gunshot.

"Sugar," Harry mumbled, nervously combing his hand through his dark hair and beginning to pace the small room. "Sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar."

Oh my gosh. Harry isn't pulling some prank. Whatever he's running from is real. And it has a gun and is not afraid to use it.

"Harry," Cat whispered so softly, she could barely hear herself.

But Harry whipped his head in her direction like she had yelled at the top of her lungs. He saw tears were pouring down her face, her make-up starting to smear.

"What's going on?" She asked, her lips quivering. Her mind was reeled around the reality of the situation she's been thrown in.

Gunshots can only mean bullets flying a thousand miles an hour, sinking into skin, and screaming bloody murder all in a press of a small button. Gunshots mean death. And I could die.

His face softened as he walked back over to Cat, his hands shaking. "I don't know how to explain this to you-"

Another scream echoed outside the room. This time, it was closer and even louder than before.
"-but I'm going to do my best."

He took something out of his hoodie pocket. When he brought it up for her to see, she recognized it as a wallet. He then opened the wallet to reveal a card in the front pocket.