Intertwined - Tangled series (Overprotective famous brothers)

Panic

Alisha

At this point, it hurt my chest to breathe. I'd gotten myself close to the air vents, and I was trying to get my breathing to normal. But with the blood loss and the lack of drugs in my system, it was getting very, very difficult to breathe.

They'd left me alone for a while and although I could here them talk and discuss things, I couldn't quite make out what was happening. All I needed was to stay stable and breathe. My doctors had told me what to do when I was in a situation like this. I was supposed to stay calm and minimise physical activity, and lay down with my legs on the pillow, so at least my brain got more blood flow and oxygen.

Don't give up, I told myself.

That's when the door opened and that man walked in, grabbing me again and getting to stand up, and look at him. He looked at Brian and he nodded. Taking me, he walked out of the room and out of the apartment.

This wasn't good. I didn't know what they were upto. Maybe they didn't like the media presence, and maybe they wanted to get away to someplace they wouldn't be able to track me down. And maybe, perhaps, he wanted to kill me. Maybe, he was going to leave me to go back home. Possibilities ran through my head, and even though my legs felt weak, I kept walking.

They took me to the basement in the elevator, and we got into a car. Oh no, they were planning to flee after all.

But they couldn't. I knew there was paparazzi all around this place, I could make out their chitter chatter from the 4th floor balcony. I knew they would follow this man. Maybe they were planning to out run them, which I knew was possible. And then, they'd switch cars at some point and make sure they weren't tracked using various methods. Brian looked like someone who could pull something like that off.

"Get in." Brian pushed me into the back seat. That man got into the passenger seat, and Brian was going to drive. We got out of the building, and I was immediately blinded by cameras. I knew I had to do something. That's when I remembered I had sneaked in toothpaste into my pocket.

I drew a SOS on the window and looked for people. Most these people I knew well, and they could see me panicking. They tried to block their way, but after running the car over a man's foot, they moved aside. That's when I spotted them. Mike Tyson, looking at us from a car and following me closely. If there was anyone who could keep track of me, it was them. I made sure I didn't make any sudden movements and make them aware of their presence.

"You can't escape this. They hate you." I said to the man and he just looked at me with repulsion, before he looked ahead again.

"I always get what I want." He looked into the rearview mirror and smiled at me, innocently. So innocently, it made me cringe.

I didn't say anything else, mostly because I couldn't find any strength to. Even with the air conditioning, my numbers were running drastically low. They were very, very low. I could feel my fingers staring to get numb, and I could feel the world getting hazy. I tried to stay awake, to keep track of my surroundings. Counting the number of trees, reading the number plates, looking at how slowly, one by one, the number of cars and bikes behind us had gone down.

They had managed to lose the paparazzi, but not Mike Tyson. This man had called the cops, telling them he was being followed, and the cops had said that they'd dispatch someone. But I assumed that they wouldn't be able to get us, and even if they did, they would need my father to stop as well for a formal complain. He realise the futility of it and hung up. He was getting mad and threw the phone on the dashboard, mumbling curses under his breath and he looked at me every few minutes to make sure I was still there. Alive or dead, but he needed to have me.