Rogues on the Run

Quicksand.

Read the AN at the end, please!

Not edited.

               The sunlight is blinding. Really blinding.

The moment I open my eyes and look directly up at the sky, my retinas feel as if they're on fire. Of course, that causes me to flip onto my stomach and instinctively reach for something like, I don't know, a pillow? Yeah, that's it. But instead I end up with a face full of dead lives crawling with small bugs and dirt.

Just the way to start my morning.

And I don't even care if I sound bitchy or whiny. Wouldn't you be grumpy if you woke up on the forest floor with leaves stuck to your face and dirt down your shirt? 

Then again, I should be somewhat grateful, right? Even after such a crazy night - if crazy is really the suitable word - I am still alive. Still alive after having a gun pointed at me and being chased by a local pack who thinks Liam and I are murderers and Jeremy and Stella are probably accomplices.

So, yeah, I think my reasons for being in a bad mood are dignified. 

Right now, I would kill for a shower and a proper bed to sleep in. And we probably would have stopped at a motel or something if it wasn't for the fact our van was broken down and they were crazy werewolves after us.

Lucky for us - once we took out that last wolf that was chasing us - no other pack mates came looking for us, much to Stella's disappoint.

We all separated from there. Stella, unfortunately, was the one who seized the van for herself and locked the rest of us out. 

If I really wanted - or well,  had enough energy to - I would have smashed that fucking window in and crawled into the backseat and slept. Even in the sweltering heat, I would have.

But I had no energy, along with Jeremy and Liam who collapsed next to the van and dozed off, while I stumbled around for a bit before passing out on the forest floor.

I wondered if this is what it felt like to be hungover. Throbbing headache, not really remembering why or how you ended up sleeping on the ground, and again, feeling like your head is gonna explode. Possibly.

Why do people drink if it just leaves you feeling like crap, anyways? You can feel like crap on a daily basis without the alcohol. Just spend half of your night running from crazy werewolves who want to kill you and there you go!

That made no sense at all, now that I think about it. I think I'm going insane. Again.

With a sigh, I flip onto my back once I realize I won't be able to go back to sleep. How can I go to sleep when I've got leaves stuck in my bra and something crawling on my leg?

Crawling on my leg?

 I shoot up into a sitting position and come face to face with a pretty decent sized spider resting right on my calf. He's a fat one too. With long, fuzzy black legs and two beady little eyes staring right at me. I swear I can see my own horrified expression in the reflection of his black orbs. 

Normally, I'm not scared of bugs. Well, at least if there not on me and invading my personal space, I'm cool with them. Maybe I'll throw a shoe at them or simply swat it away with my foot. But this sucker is. I should probably just gently remove him or something, you know? So I don't get bit or anything.

But my limbs react much faster and the next thing you know I'm failing all over the place while screaming. 

I hit the thing off of my leg and I cringe - cringe - when my fingers brush the black fur, fuzz, hair, whatever the hell you really want to call it.