“I shot him in the knee. Run, Bianca!”
I knew when push came to shove she couldn’t take a man’s life, and I’m relieved because something like that would haunt Cami until day she died.
“I’m trying,” I cry, batting at the tears rolling down my face. “Wh-who’s chasing us?”
I glance over my shoulder one more time. There are two boys. The shorter one is gaining ground, but the taller, chunkier one is struggling to keep up. His fierce eyes lock on mine, daring me to try to get away. Fear prickles up my spine, but I don’t have
much time to dwell on it. Cami grabs my arm, pulling me behind her as she weaves left through someone’s yard.
My lungs are on fire, my thighs screaming in pain. Every cell in my body is telling me to give up, telling me it’s too late, but all I hear is Cami.
“Come on, B. Don’t give up,” she encourages. “We just have to make it to Uncle Giovanni’s.”
“I won’t make it.”
“Yes, you will.” Her grip on my arm tightens.
For the first time since she caught up to me, Cami looks back, and in an instant, I’m shoved forward as she’s tackled to the ground. Holding out my hands, I try to stop my fall, but it’s no use, I smack face-first in a muddy patch of grass. My feet slip as I struggle to get up, desperate to help my sister. Rubbing the mud from my eyes, I find Cami thrashing under the shorter boy, bucking and kicking, trying to get free, but he’s too big. Her glossy eyes connect with mine.
“Run.” The word is garbled, almost choked out of her mouth, and my heart twists inside my chest. Just then the other boy runs around the corner, nearly toppling over the two bodies rolling around in the grass. His eyes lift to mine, and despite my body’s protest, I do the only thing left to do.
I run.
I run through the yard, around the corner, hoping and praying that if I make it to Giovanni’s fast enough, he can save Cami. I dodge left, hopping over a toy before cutting through a set of swings in someone’s backyard. The boy is still chasing me. I can hear him panting as he tries to catch up. But he won’t. I might not have been able to outrun the shorter one, but I can sure as heck out run this one.
“Almost there,” I breathe. Deciding to take a shortcut, I turn, only to smack directly into a wooden fence. When did they put this up? I know for a fact it wasn’t here before. Stumbling, I quickly regain my balance.
“No. Nononono,” I cry, running along the polished wood, hoping to find a gate. “Please. Pleasepleaseplease.” When I hit the corner, I drop to my knees, breathless.
There’s no way out.
My chin trembles. Fear, confusion, desperation, loss…my emotions swirl through me. Dropping my chin to my chest, I cry, my shoulders heaving as I sob.
The boy doesn’t make a sound, but I know he’s caught up to me. His scent, a mixture of sweat and surprisingly enough cigars, surrounds me, and I look up through watery eyes.
Shaking my head, I sit back on my haunches. “Please,” I beg. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Bending over, he places his hands on his knees. “I’m asthmatic,” he wheezes between ragged breaths. “I don’t run well.”
My eyes widen in shock. I’m not sure what I thought he was going to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Just seconds ago, I was running from him—running for my life—and now I’m watching him struggle to breathe. I know that feeling all too well. Here, like this, with his labored breathing and the distinct discoloration of his lips, he looks a lot less menacing and much more vulnerable.
Reluctantly, I reach into my pocket, pulling out my inhaler. “Use this.”
Furrowing his brows, the boy looks at my hand. Weird sounds come from his chest, sounds I recognize because they’ve landed me in the emergency room on more than one occasion. Lifting my hand, I urge him to take it. Why? I have no idea. What I should be doing is running like the wind, using his weakened state to my advantage. I know I could get away now.
His brown eyes search my blue ones. “Why are you doing this?” he whispers, glancing over his shoulder as though he’s making sure no one is watching.
I shrug, wishing I had an answer for him, but I don’t. Probably I shouldn’t be helping him, considering his job is most likely to take me back to his…monster, where I’ll either be murdered or sold, but something swirls in his dark brown eyes, screaming for me to trust him.
“Just take it,” I tell him.
Grabbing it from my hand, he shakes the blue canister several times before taking a puff. Drawing the air in deep, he holds his breath for several seconds before letting it out and repeating the process.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his words coming much smoother now.
I clench my jaw, deciding how to answer. He was chasing me; shouldn’t he know my name? If he doesn’t, do I want him to know my name? A little voice in the back of my head tells me to lie, but I can’t, because images of my dad and Cami are flashing through my mind. I just helped this boy, so maybe he will help me.
“Bianca.”