Runaway [1]
group/member: Exo/Baekhyun
requested: no
word count: 2,172
summary: All it takes is being at the wrong place, at the wrong time for you to be dragged back into the world you had tried so hard to leave behind.
Bags heavy in your hand, you quickly made your way down the dark streets of your less than safe neighborhood. You lived in what was known as gang territory. The gang was nameless- they had one, but using it anywhere aside from your own thoughts was essentially a death sentence. They were faceless, as well, with the members having complete anonymity. You could be standing next to them in the store, on the trains, they could even be your neighbor in the apartment next to yours, and you would have absolutely no idea at all. They liked it that way, that was for sure. They claimed themselves to be like the nightmares you would hide from as a young girl- no names, no faces, just a dark empty space in your memories, hanging over you constantly. It was stifling, and the fear sometimes made you feel as if you were drowning.
Sometimes, you would be laying there at night, eyes closed but adrenaline pumping as you listened to the multitude of gunshots. Some nights they were far away, blocks upon blocks away from you, making it seem like distant fireworks, or even a dimmed memory from an action movie you had watched sometime before. Other nights, they were so close you could smell the gunpowder, hear the initial safeties clicking off, and even the cocking of the gun. The nights where it sounded like they were right outside of your apartment windows, right down the left opening of the alley that opened up into a road that had been abandoned for construction (the gang had taken it over, claiming they were going to use this as a place for deals, although they never touched it- and neither did the police). Those were the nights that scared you the most.
You wanted to leave this place so, so badly. You wanted to call your parents and apologize for what you had done, to make up with them and come home, if anything, just to get out. And yet your pride stopped you. It ran thick in your blood, often getting you into a lot of bad situations, and you wished that you didn’t have it. Being prideful was sometimes nothing more than a curse.
And as you walked home, you could only kick yourself again for not sucking up to your parents all those failed phone calls ago. There was only one entrance to your apartment, the steps leading up to your front door beginning directly at the edge of the sidewalk, just before the street. And because of the two men engaged in a heavy argument right in front of your steps, you had no way to get inside.
The very second you noticed them your body went on auto-pilot. You stopped moving for a split second, before slowly slinking your way about two feet back to hide around the corner you had just walked around. You nearly silenced your breathing, only taking short, imperceptible breathes as often as your paranoia could allow. Inching towards the corner again, you took a peak around the wall and zeroed in on the mid to lower bodies of the men. The instincts that you had worked so hard to push down and hide were beginning to surface again, and even the twitch of their toes beneath the fabric of their sneakers were caught by your eyes. You could vaguely see the veins of one of the men’s underarms begin to pop out, the sinews and muscles of their arm tightening as they tightened their grip in their pockets. There were three tings that the man could have been clenching, and only one of them was safe. It was either a fist, the hilt of a knife, of the grip of a gun. If these men were part of the gang that had been known to rule this area, then chances are that it a gun- with the safety already off, cocked and loaded with a full mag.
“Did you really think that you could get away with double crossing us like that, huh?” The man yelled angrily, shifting his weight forward the smallest amount so that all of his weight was pressed against the balls of his feet, ready to move at any moment.
The other man clumsily took a step back. “I- I didn’t, I wouldn’t, I-“ He stuttered out, glancing around uselessly, obviously looking for an escape he wasn’t going to find. If this gang was doing anything right, then they would have other members stationed around the area, maybe even someone with a sniper rifle up at the roofs. The best one to use, in her opinion, would have been a 20 inch flat top AR with a 1/8 twist, along with a free floated forend and stainless barrel. It would have shot ¾ to 1 inch all day with milspec ammo. Semi-automatic too, so if the sniper missed, he could double back for another shot quickly. Probably a lot better with more accurate match ammo, but hey, they couldn’t have everything.
“Don’t even try it, buddy.” Finally, the man pulled his gun out of his pocket and pointed it at the apparent double crossers face. You sank down to the ground, pressing your back against the wall and minimizing the amount of area your body took up. “I’ve got people all around- one more step and you’re dead. You won’t even know which direction the bullet came from. Actually,” The man stopped for a second, before shrugging and pulling the trigger. “Yeah, you will.”
There was a loud bang and the man dropped to the floor, eyes still wide open, blood from the new hole in her forehead seeping into the whites of his eyes. You stared for a few seconds, eyes locked onto the dead mans. You remembered seeing eyes like those so many time throughout your life. Eyes that would never blink again, eyes that would never move again, that would never again crinkle up from smiling, eyes that would never cry. Eyes that would be forever stuck in the hazy, cloudy, dull colors of the lingering fear and panic they had felt just before their deaths.
This was the life you had left behind. You didn’t want this; you had never wanted it in the first place. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and as more suppressed memories began to resurface again, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You regretted so much. So, so much. Your chest was burning with the need to breathe again, your short breaths not providing enough oxygen for the panic that was constricting your lungs. You couldn’t, you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t go back, you never wanted to hurt anybody in the first place, much less do it ever again.
You snapped your eyes shut and buried your face in your arms, holding your breathe to stop the oncoming panic attack. Ten, nine, eight, you counted backwards slowly, trying to get everything under control. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, and it could have been seconds or minutes at this point, but you knew you needed to leave, and stay somewhere else for the night. You couldn’t be spotted, or else you would definitely be taken. And you knew what happened when someone was taken.
Counting to five, you steadied your breathing before shooting your head up. Shooting upwards, the first thing you did was take off your shoes and shove them in one of the bags you had. You had elected to wear this cute pair of heeled ankle boots today, because god damn it they looked good with you outfit and they made your legs look ten times better. But naturally, the one time you wear heels is the one of the times that you need to be running away from some murder scene. At least this way, the clacking of the heels wouldn’t be heard, and you would be that much harder to find. Rushing as quietly down the alley as you could, you kept checking behind you to see if they had seen you, or heard you. After double checking that the coast was clear, you threw yourself around the corner and directly into another person.
Stumbling backwards, you immediately take a defensive stance, crossing your arms in front of you and shuffling your right foot back. The man in front of you was grinning, one hand on his hip, the other shoved into his jacket pocket, with a plastic bag hanging around his wrist. You spared a glance down to the bag, and through the taught transparent material, you could make out stacks of money, bound together by the hundreds, most likely.
“Well, hello there,” he said teasingly, looking you up and down. “You seem to be in a rush. And without shoes, either. You wouldn’t happen to be… running from anyone, would you?”
Shit, this was the guy. You recognized the voice as the one you had just heard in front of your house minutes before. You shifted your weight again, moving as little as possible. “Why should I be running?” You replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t happen to be doing something I should run away from, would you?”
His smile dropped, and he snapped his arm outward, practically clotheslining you and pinning you to the wall by your throat. “Cut the shit. I know that you saw, and that you know who I am. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of hurting someone as pretty as you, but sadly,” he shrugged. “Sacrifices need to be made.” He smiled goofily, looking almost like a dog with his tongue hanging out. It looked so innocent and pure- completely out of place for someone who had just insinuated him killing you.
You dropped your bags and wrapped your hands tightly around his arm, pulling your legs up to suspend all of your weight from his arm. His grip slacked and he nearly dropped you, quickly bringing his other arm around to try and grab you, but you swung both legs back out again and nailed him right in the stomach. He stumbled back and you took this chance to run again. You sprinted as fast as you could, pumping your arms in legs in a way that you hadn’t done in years. The adrenaline soared through you, chilling your veins as if it were a bucket of ice merging in. Your body began to heat up. Your breaths came out in short huffs through your nose. Your senses sharpened automatically, and you could hear the footsteps of the man quickly catching up to you.
As soon as he came within a few feet, you skidded to a stop and threw your leg out in a round house kick, which slammed into him with all the velocity of your spin and the momentum of his run. Somehow he had managed to grab your leg before he fell, and you were yanked onto the ground along with him. The panic began to set in as you knew that you had no chance now- he was taller than you, and definitely physically stronger than. And since he had you pinned completely on the ground now, knees pressed into your elbows, weight pressed on your chest and arm over your throat, he grinned breathlessly.
“I win, sweetheart.” He said, grinning again. “Now be a good girl, and hold still.” He brought his gun out again, waving it around in your face. He made a big show of cocking the gun and clicking the safety off, pressing it against you cheek mockingly. He looked as if he expected you to start crying or begging, or both, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.
“Go ahead and fucking shoot me already then. No matter what kind of weapon you wave around in my face, it won’t scare me. I’m not scared of death, and I’m most definitely not scared of you.” With that, you struggled to lift your head the tiniest bit and you spit in his face.
He stared at you in complete shock, your saliva still sliding down his cheek. Before long, he shrieked loudly, voice climbing to a higher pitch than you’d ever expect. His arm lifted from your throat as he frantically wiped at his face, screaming “ew, ew, ew, ew!” If it wasn’t for your current situation, you would have laughed.
“Alright, that’s fucking it.” He growled. “Remember the name I’m about to tell you. When you wake up, this is the name of the guy who is going to make you wish that I had shot you right here and right now. You’ll be begging me to kill you, so make sure to say my name along with a nice, pretty apology and some begging okay? Remember the name Byun Baekhyun.” Lifting up the arm holding the gun again, he brought it down in one more final swoop, cracking the pistol across your right cheek, and knocking you out.
