BondedByBlood
Active member
~Chapter One~
2:30am:
I woke up under the bus shelter, cold, tired and restless. I had been running for days away from the cops after I murdered my brother. I had to kill Damien - he was getting too crazy with power after he stole all of the money in my mother's bank. But nobody knew that it was him that did that; they all pointed their wrinkly fingers at me.
So now, I'm still on the run, hoping to hitch a ride to the airport and sneak onto a plane and never see any of those idiot cops again. I checked in my tweed coat for my gun. It was still there. I gripped it as I sat up and started walking towards the closest airport; Stanstead Airport. London was a cold place to live in- and if people think it's freezing in winter even with their radiators on - try sleeping on the sidewalks everynight and running in the frosty wind, my hands numb from the cold. Nonetheless, I don't care. As long as I can be safe and can start anew in a different country.
The moon was still up, waiting for the sun to bring its warmth. My walk broke into a run as I heard a siren from behind me. Only eight miles until I'm at the Queen Elizabeth BridgeI thought. And then I might just be free to live life for a while until they track me.
9:00am:
I saw the Queen Elizabeth I Bridge above me, all of those cars swerving round eachother to get to work. I would have to run faster than this if I ever wanted to get out of London before one of those cops saw me and called backup. If it was something I had learnt; most cops were never bothered to get up before 5:00am.
All I had in my pocket was ten pounds. That would barely get me a ride to the next road with the high prices all of the taxi drivers charged - and I had to get to Stanstead Airport - not to mention my face all over the BBC News and outside the police station.
"Excuse me, sir?" A voice said behind me.
"What?" I said irritably, only just noticing the car keys in his hand.
"Do you know the way to Bishops Stortford?" His voice was innocent, and flowed in the wind.
"If you're talking about the one near Stanstead I could show you, because it's pretty hard to explain how to get there from here, besides, I'll give you money if you drop me at Stanstead Airport." I had to dance my way around this delicately, or there could be no other chances to get a ride to the airport.
"I'm not too sure, but my daughter is giving birth at a hospital and...." he hesitated, "sure, get in the car.
"Plus, could you step on it? I'm going to miss my flight to America if i don't get there by 1pm and by the looks of it, there is a lot more traffic than usual out there on the M25."
Of couse. America. That's where I would go - and no need for a language change; just a different accent.
12:56pm
The traffic was building up and I was getting more and more tense as I stared at the clock inside the man's car. We were no where near Stanstead yet.
"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, tapping my foot impatiently on the carpet inside the Land Rover.
The man driving seemed to never stop swearing. He called someone on his mobile and hung up in rage. I could have never guessed that such a delicate-looking man could be so....so convulsive.
"Er....What's wrong?" The words seemed to flow uncontrollably from my mouth.
"Something's seriously wrong with my daughter's baby, and I can't flipping be there on time to find out what's bloody wrong!"
"Ok, calm down. I'm sure she'll be fine, and most babies do have something wrong with them at birht, but it usually ends up just fine," I smiled fakely at him to have him calm down and focus on driving me to Stanstead.
"By the way, can I ask how old are you? A yound man like you shouldn't be wearing tweed. That stuff is so expensive and as you youngsters would say, 'It's out of fashion.' No offence."
"None taken. I'm twenty-three by the way, and on my way to becoming a young billionaire," I just had to say what came into my head at the time, "Yep. I have to go to the airport so that I can get to Chicago on time for an important buisness meeting that will change my life forever. My coat was my father's who died in the Second World War. I do respect him lots, and that's why I wear this wherever I go." Yeah right. I just stole the jacket from the tailor's to keep me warm.
2:09pm:
After the lunch hour, the traffic seemed to clear for us as we pulled up at Stanstead Airport. Finally. I could escape from the dark tendrils that kept me bonded to the gravel of London. I inhaled deeply and ran inside, looking like a maniac with no luggage and dodging round families trying to find a flight that was going to America.
I was stopped by a police officer, who looked just as glum as the others. Damn it, Not again. I'm screwed, I thought, trying to avoid the grim gaze of the officer. I grimaced as the officer opened his mouth. I knew that by the end of the day I would be in jail. I knew that by the end of the day everyone will say that I had what I deserved, although they don't even know the whole story. By the end of the day my mother will frown down upon me from above, dissapointed that I couldn't escape to a better future.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" The officer asked, eyeing me fully from top to bottom.
"Er....I do think I know you too...," I sounded unsure as I spoke, and the officer picked up that I was lying.
"Nevermind about that, I just came to ask you to calm down. This is not a playground that you can just run about in." Hell yeah. No jail for me.
"Sorry I'm just kinda lost; I need to get onto my flight to America," I told him, screaming like a little girl inside. I just wanted him to go away.
"Sure, I can help, what was your flight number?" This officer was surely helpful, but not to me.
"I forgot," I said, sweating and tensing up. I was as sure as hell that I wasn't going to make it through this.
"Alright then," The officer stared at me as if I was an idiot. And I was,"Can you show me your ticket?"
And the penny dropped. I knew I was stuck. The only thing I could do was...
BANG!
My revolver banged and the echo boomed through the airport. Oh God, they would all be onto me now. I sprinted through the airport, dodging the cops on the way. Glass shattered after every window I ran by. Now I was damn sure that I would be dead before I even reached the toilet.
2:19pm:
I had been running for so long that i couldn't bring myself to stop. I suddenly realised that the whole of the airport was empty. The officers must have evacuated everyone. Hehe. That meant lots of refunds for thousands of people.
My asthma was playing up again. I hid in a dark corner, out of the light; out of sight. Footsteps could be heard as four officers ran by, their rifles in their hands. They were hunting for me in groups.
I saw a pilot dash by in fear, and I knew what I had to do. I crept after him, still aware of my surroundings. I rumaged in my pocked and I found a bandana. Perfect. The pilot was running towards the emergency exit but before he had a chance to escape I sprinted up to him, whipped the bandana round his mouth and dragged the poor man into a dark storage room.
"Listen," I said, harshness in my voice, "I want a flight to America. Do it or I'll kill you."
I couldn't help it. When you've been accused of something for so long, you get pushed and pushed towards what you never wanted to be - and for me, that was manacing and dangerous. I never used to be like this; I was that sweet, kind, funny guy that everyone knows (or knew) and loves.
Oh God, I just realised something; family is the most messed up thing you can ever encounter in your life.
Oh and BTW sorry this story is messed up; messed up bad. Chapter two should be out some time by either the end of this month or the start of next month.
Tanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!!!!!!
2:30am:
I woke up under the bus shelter, cold, tired and restless. I had been running for days away from the cops after I murdered my brother. I had to kill Damien - he was getting too crazy with power after he stole all of the money in my mother's bank. But nobody knew that it was him that did that; they all pointed their wrinkly fingers at me.
So now, I'm still on the run, hoping to hitch a ride to the airport and sneak onto a plane and never see any of those idiot cops again. I checked in my tweed coat for my gun. It was still there. I gripped it as I sat up and started walking towards the closest airport; Stanstead Airport. London was a cold place to live in- and if people think it's freezing in winter even with their radiators on - try sleeping on the sidewalks everynight and running in the frosty wind, my hands numb from the cold. Nonetheless, I don't care. As long as I can be safe and can start anew in a different country.
The moon was still up, waiting for the sun to bring its warmth. My walk broke into a run as I heard a siren from behind me. Only eight miles until I'm at the Queen Elizabeth BridgeI thought. And then I might just be free to live life for a while until they track me.
9:00am:
I saw the Queen Elizabeth I Bridge above me, all of those cars swerving round eachother to get to work. I would have to run faster than this if I ever wanted to get out of London before one of those cops saw me and called backup. If it was something I had learnt; most cops were never bothered to get up before 5:00am.
All I had in my pocket was ten pounds. That would barely get me a ride to the next road with the high prices all of the taxi drivers charged - and I had to get to Stanstead Airport - not to mention my face all over the BBC News and outside the police station.
"Excuse me, sir?" A voice said behind me.
"What?" I said irritably, only just noticing the car keys in his hand.
"Do you know the way to Bishops Stortford?" His voice was innocent, and flowed in the wind.
"If you're talking about the one near Stanstead I could show you, because it's pretty hard to explain how to get there from here, besides, I'll give you money if you drop me at Stanstead Airport." I had to dance my way around this delicately, or there could be no other chances to get a ride to the airport.
"I'm not too sure, but my daughter is giving birth at a hospital and...." he hesitated, "sure, get in the car.
"Plus, could you step on it? I'm going to miss my flight to America if i don't get there by 1pm and by the looks of it, there is a lot more traffic than usual out there on the M25."
Of couse. America. That's where I would go - and no need for a language change; just a different accent.
12:56pm
The traffic was building up and I was getting more and more tense as I stared at the clock inside the man's car. We were no where near Stanstead yet.
"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, tapping my foot impatiently on the carpet inside the Land Rover.
The man driving seemed to never stop swearing. He called someone on his mobile and hung up in rage. I could have never guessed that such a delicate-looking man could be so....so convulsive.
"Er....What's wrong?" The words seemed to flow uncontrollably from my mouth.
"Something's seriously wrong with my daughter's baby, and I can't flipping be there on time to find out what's bloody wrong!"
"Ok, calm down. I'm sure she'll be fine, and most babies do have something wrong with them at birht, but it usually ends up just fine," I smiled fakely at him to have him calm down and focus on driving me to Stanstead.
"By the way, can I ask how old are you? A yound man like you shouldn't be wearing tweed. That stuff is so expensive and as you youngsters would say, 'It's out of fashion.' No offence."
"None taken. I'm twenty-three by the way, and on my way to becoming a young billionaire," I just had to say what came into my head at the time, "Yep. I have to go to the airport so that I can get to Chicago on time for an important buisness meeting that will change my life forever. My coat was my father's who died in the Second World War. I do respect him lots, and that's why I wear this wherever I go." Yeah right. I just stole the jacket from the tailor's to keep me warm.
2:09pm:
After the lunch hour, the traffic seemed to clear for us as we pulled up at Stanstead Airport. Finally. I could escape from the dark tendrils that kept me bonded to the gravel of London. I inhaled deeply and ran inside, looking like a maniac with no luggage and dodging round families trying to find a flight that was going to America.
I was stopped by a police officer, who looked just as glum as the others. Damn it, Not again. I'm screwed, I thought, trying to avoid the grim gaze of the officer. I grimaced as the officer opened his mouth. I knew that by the end of the day I would be in jail. I knew that by the end of the day everyone will say that I had what I deserved, although they don't even know the whole story. By the end of the day my mother will frown down upon me from above, dissapointed that I couldn't escape to a better future.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" The officer asked, eyeing me fully from top to bottom.
"Er....I do think I know you too...," I sounded unsure as I spoke, and the officer picked up that I was lying.
"Nevermind about that, I just came to ask you to calm down. This is not a playground that you can just run about in." Hell yeah. No jail for me.
"Sorry I'm just kinda lost; I need to get onto my flight to America," I told him, screaming like a little girl inside. I just wanted him to go away.
"Sure, I can help, what was your flight number?" This officer was surely helpful, but not to me.
"I forgot," I said, sweating and tensing up. I was as sure as hell that I wasn't going to make it through this.
"Alright then," The officer stared at me as if I was an idiot. And I was,"Can you show me your ticket?"
And the penny dropped. I knew I was stuck. The only thing I could do was...
BANG!
My revolver banged and the echo boomed through the airport. Oh God, they would all be onto me now. I sprinted through the airport, dodging the cops on the way. Glass shattered after every window I ran by. Now I was damn sure that I would be dead before I even reached the toilet.
2:19pm:
I had been running for so long that i couldn't bring myself to stop. I suddenly realised that the whole of the airport was empty. The officers must have evacuated everyone. Hehe. That meant lots of refunds for thousands of people.
My asthma was playing up again. I hid in a dark corner, out of the light; out of sight. Footsteps could be heard as four officers ran by, their rifles in their hands. They were hunting for me in groups.
I saw a pilot dash by in fear, and I knew what I had to do. I crept after him, still aware of my surroundings. I rumaged in my pocked and I found a bandana. Perfect. The pilot was running towards the emergency exit but before he had a chance to escape I sprinted up to him, whipped the bandana round his mouth and dragged the poor man into a dark storage room.
"Listen," I said, harshness in my voice, "I want a flight to America. Do it or I'll kill you."
I couldn't help it. When you've been accused of something for so long, you get pushed and pushed towards what you never wanted to be - and for me, that was manacing and dangerous. I never used to be like this; I was that sweet, kind, funny guy that everyone knows (or knew) and loves.
Oh God, I just realised something; family is the most messed up thing you can ever encounter in your life.
Oh and BTW sorry this story is messed up; messed up bad. Chapter two should be out some time by either the end of this month or the start of next month.
Tanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!!!!!!
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