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I charge after him, through the thick woods, managing to keep up even as we weave through the thick trees.
He knows I’m behind him, but he doesn’t look back, he runs like he knows where he’s going.
Maybe he does.
After all, he lived here once. He probably has hideouts all through these woods.
The sick bastard.
Panting, sweat trickling down my forehead, I keep the gun in my hand as I charge after him. I leap over logs and different bushes scratch my skin, but I refuse to be slowed down. This asshole hurt my friend, and not only that, but he was hurting other girls. He’s not going to get away with it, I’ll make sure of it.
We reach a small dirt road leading out the main road, and he turns left, picking up the pace as he runs towards the cars cruising down the highway, having no idea that a psycho is running toward them.
That’s when I hear the sirens.
Police. Paramedics. I’m not sure but they’ve called someone.
Does that mean they got Ciara out safely?
Or does it mean she’s injured?
Panting, I try to point the gun at him, but he’s zigzagging all over the road, making it hard for me to take a shot.
He’s smart.
Gritting my teeth, my lungs burning for air, I try to run faster, harder, but I’m running out of steam. I’ve kept up with him for this long, but he’s clearly fitter than me because he isn’t slowing down.
I take a shot for the sake of it, aiming the gun as best as I can and pulling the trigger.
Hitting his leg, I hear his agonized cry as he falls to the ground, clutching his calf. I actually got him. Dammit, I didn’t think I would. A smile spreads across my face and adrenaline surges through me as I slow down, coming to a stop and leaning over him, aiming the gun.
His hands are covered in blood as he cries out, clutching his leg.
“Calm down, it’s a bullet wound. I didn’t cut it off,” I mutter, kicking him with my shoe.
That’s when three police cars come barreling down the dirt road, flicking stones up in my direction.
Thank gosh they’re here.
They can take this psycho away and we can be done with this.
Gerard rolls to his back, his leg bleeding profusely and he...grins?
Shaking my head, I keep the gun aimed at him as the police cars skid to a stop.
“Put the gun down!”
An officer gets out of the car, pointing his gun at me. Me? Not Gerard, but me. I didn’t do anything. I lower the gun, shaking my head, confused. Gerard cries out in pain, gripping his leg and bellowing, “She shot me. They brought me out here to kill me. I only just got away. Please, help.”
Shock radiates through my body.
The guys didn’t call the cops, Gerard did.
“I didn’t...” I say, but the officers surrounding me are all aiming their weapons, ready to fire.
They will kill me; I can see it in their eyes.
They think I’m the bad guy.
