The Numbers on Her Wrist

32

A/N Thanks for your paitience! My sister's wedding was Saturday and it was so beautiful! I was Maid of Honor and I actually got some people to cry with my speech xD Haha! Thank you all so so so so much for 158k and for all the support you have given! I entered this into the #Wattys2016 so pleeeeeeease vote, comment, share, and stuff like that! I love you all so much I can't even explain it!

Picture was meant for next chapter, but I think it still fits alright.

Enjoy!

And here's some music to set the intense mood. :)

I attempt to remain calm as I watch as Mr. Ellis stares at me with a gleam crossed somewhere between satisfaction and pride, but I do not waste time trying to distinguish it further, my hands and jaw clenched as I search the area as quickly as I can. I take note of two men in dark suits who stand out amongst the random congregations or solo people of the street, with their faces hidden or obscured by a low hat or another object large enough to shield their eyes from my view, and they prowl around the perimeter of the small restaurant- trying to be discreet, but failing miserably. I realize, that despite their lack of skills of blending into crowds, that if I am not careful and quick and perceptive of my surroundings, then there is a possibility that I will finally returning to the orphanage tonight- but it will not be for rescuing the children like I had planned for tomorrow night; no, I would be owned once again.

The worrying and starkly terrifying threat of losing my freedom tonight and the fact that I would not be able to help or save the children spurs me on and my mind to think faster, adrenaline building in my chest as I plan out my first few actions; the rest will be improvised as I try to escape these demons. I swallow and look down to the ground, breathing silently and shifting in my black boots as Mr. Ellis nods to me with a step forward. He gestures towards the street, "Come quietly, Amelia Reyes, 564..." I flinch at my old name. "It will only be much worse if you try and do something stupid."

I smirk at him and ready myself, not helping to stop the smart remark that lingers on my tongue after I say it- "It isn't stupid."

I flip the marble-tiled table, scattering the quaint dishes and shiny silverware onto the pebble-covered concrete, and I am pleased as I see the food and drinks splash sloppily onto Mr. Ellis' black trench coat; he gasps in surprise and takes a panicked step back in order to avoid the table as it rolls and turns onto its side; it narrowly misses his foot. I turn on my heel, shouting and screaming for any people in my path to move out of my way as I hurtle myself down the sidewalk.

I will not be taken; I will not be taken.

The pair of men I saw strolling around the general area to keep watch of me begin to take their own chase after me, consternation flooding through my veins and heart as one of the men- he looks about ten years older than myself- reaches far too close far too fast for my comfort. I hold tight to my satchel to ensure nothing slips out; I cannot use my new gun or knives for fear of hitting an innocent bystander, but I know the Association will not bother avoiding unnecessary causalities- in fact, one or two may assist in drawing the attention away from the pursuit of a girl barely old enough to drink.

All three associates from the Association shout rudely and angrily for people to move out of their way, simultaneously screaming and ordering for me to stop as they do this, but it only causes me to lengthen my stride in desperation to escape from these men.