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It's too hard.

Too real.

Too excruciatingly painful to even ponder.

The bus driver staggers backward, clutching his cheek. A shocked look has taken up residence on his fat face. He juts his left hand out to hold me back, but a hand isn't enough. A hand will never be enough to hold back a girl with a tortured soul, a broken heart, and a fucked up mind. “Stay where you are,” the bus driver croaks out.

But he's too late.

I hurl myself at him and scream. Tears blind me and my fists sink into the bulge of his stomach. “Why did you take him from me?” My voice is shrill, hysterical, and my throat is raw. “How could you do this?” The bus driver block

s my punches with his forearms and I barely notice the whimper leaving his lips. My mind is too warped from love and loss and my inability to be willing to overcome it all. “Give him back!” I grip onto his shirt and shake him. “Give him back to me!”

Relaxing my grip on the bus driver's shirt, I pause to catch my breath, not realizing I've given him an advantage. Before I can react any further, he shoves me off him and bolts for the door. I'm on my feet in seconds, chasing after him, but he somehow barricades the door locking me inside. Pacing back and forth, I run shaky fingers through my tangled hair.

Where are you Damien? Where are you? And why did you think it was okay to say you'd follow me anywhere then not follow me at all?

Within seconds I see the bus driver at the entrance to this place I've been brought to. He's accompanied by two strong-looking men dressed from head to toe in white and pointing to the bus. They start down the steps and I realize something.

They're coming.

For me.

I try to flee by jumping out the back door of the bus, but I'm too late. There are four hands on me, pinning me to ground and my nose digs into the dirty bus floor. I thrash beneath the grasps of these men, and I try to shimmy my way to the exit. But I'm not strong enough. The men over-power me by putting all of their weight on me.

“No!” I shriek. “You have to let me find him!”

Please. Please. Please.

“Hush now,” one of the men forces out in a gritty voice. I'm still wiggling beneath them when out of nowhere I feel a pinch in my arm.

A pinch?

What the hell was that?

In a domino effect every part of me starts to assemble again. My racing heart slows down. My scattered wits are gathered and put back into place. My temper settles and soon I fight just to keep my eyes open. “Where is he?” I manage to mumble.

A deep throaty chuckle fills my ears. It's the man on my left. “I don't know, love.” He's got a strange sounding voice. It's heavily accented. He must be from across the pond.

My entire body goes limp as I'm lifted from the floor. There's warm breath against my ear. It has no effect on me. Well, it does in annoying kind of way. Like a fly that's buzzing around your house that you so conveniently can never manage to find. “Whheere?” I slur the word and it’s the last word I speak. Whatever that pinch was, well, it managed to cripple my voice box.

I can still feel myself being carried off the bus. Down a few steps. Then up a few more steps. And just before we walk through a set of what seems to be a set of double doors, the man who was breathing down my neck whispers in a chilling voice, “I don't know where he is, love.” Goosebumps rise on my skin and the hair on my arms stand at attention. “But I can tell you this; where ever he is, I can promise you, you won't find him here.”

Chapter Three

~After~

The sounds of night fill the air creating a haunting melody that overwhelms me and soothes me at the same time. I stare up into the vast navy colored sky that is swirled with sporadic bursts of stars and let out a deep breath. The full moon is bright, peaking through the wiry branches covered with darkened green leaves, and I think the man in the moon winks at me.

It's like he's telling me not to worry.

That I will be safe and free.

Eventually.

I stopped running. Even though I told myself I wouldn't, I stopped, but only because the orderly chasing me was mere inches away from tackling me. His footsteps are an added sound to the crickets and whooshing wind. He paces back and forth below me and I have a clear view of the shaggy mop of brown a top his head. I stifle a giggle when I watch him scratch his head. He's puzzled. I've outsmarted him, thank God.

Upon my entrance to the forest, I zig-zagged through a bevy of tall oak trees and threw him off my trail for a moment. Then I scaled the first one I saw before he had me in his sights.


Tags: Lauren Hammond Asylum Romance