The Numbers on Her Wrist

22

A/N Thanks for 53k! Here's where our plot-line takes the first turn to the climax! Extra long for you being such amazing people!

Enjoy!

I wake up to the sound of men arguing.

I sit up so quickly that is causes my head to spin, and I am forced to wait a moment before I can begin moving again. I am surprised to find that I cannot seem to recall the details of last nights events, but I shrug off the slight amnesia as I do not have the best memory.

I head into my family room to investigate the noise of the disputing, which seems to be coming from outside my window. A small yellow sticky note is attached to my coffee table, a pen-written message explaining Samuel's absence, but I barely glance at it as it jogs my memories, alleviating the short span of memory loss.

I remember Samuel taking me home last night after my fight in the middle of the street.

I remember the stranger I fought; I remember him laughing, cursing, teasing, a homeless child and her mother.

I remember Samuel calling an ambulance for the man afterwards.

The theory also accounts for the minor bruising and cuts that line my knuckles, for the slice on my lower lip that smarts. As I continue walking towards the living room, I glance outside the window, surprised to see that the sun is not already glaring down on the city. Instead, dark grey clouds take over the sky's stage, casting eerie shadows over buildings and towers, with streaks of orange and pink decorating the small areas of open space that lie behind the clouds.

I rub my eyes and slide past the sofa as the arguing continues- louder.

Edging to the window, I peer outside and into the alleyway behind my apartment building. Three men in dark suits and tinted sunglasses wander closer towards my home, one with his hand stuck at the bottom of his ribs neatly; he is concealing a weapon; a gun. The sight of the unidentifiable men is enough to make a flutter of fear and sick curiosity to race through my heart. My feet immediately itch to move, alarm coursing through me, but I pause to stare at the men, intrigued as to their motives and unsettled that they seem familiar.

One of them, with blond hair and light eyes, is red in the cheeks and forehead, his voice shouting angrily. He is hushed by one of his comrades- obviously superior to the upset man, as it silences him instantly- and I narrow my eyes in an attempt to take a closer look as they are several stories below me. I wait a beat, watching as they turn my way. I curse under my breath and quickly pull myself against the wall to the right of the window.

Whomever they are, they are here for me.

From their reengaged shouts, I know that they plan to investigate- whether they saw me or not, I cannot tell.

I grab the window sill and hurriedly pull it shut, my fingers shaking slightly as I lock it tight. I race back into my bedroom, not bothering to shut the door as I begin to undress. I strip out of my make-shift pyjamas and toss them onto the bed, hurrying to my chest-of-drawers to grab underclothes. I pull on a bra quickly, and stack several pairs underwear and bras onto of the dresser in order to pack them.

Taking only a second to look, I decide to wear a plain black long-sleeve shirt, and then begin tugging it over my head; the cool material hugs tightly against my muscular arms and torso; I shiver a little. I strive to keep my breathing quiet in order to listen for the sounds of intruders as I snatch a pair of ripped jeans and pull them on; the pants are stretchy, but cling to me almost as a second skin, ensuring that they will not snag on anything if I need to run.

I turn around as I tie my hair into a ponytail, snatching my satchel from under my bed and stuffing in the underclothes I set out, a few (five) extra shirts, four pairs of shorts, and three pairs of jeans. As my bag budges in the middle, I realize that I only have a scarce amount of available room- I will not be able to take much. I glance around, searching for the most important things, but I can't find anything besides a photo of Zoe and I- now neatly zipped into an inside pocket.