Page 24 of Caught in the Middle

Chapter Nine

THUD. THUD. THUD.

A loud, metallic clanging woke Lucy up with a start. The room was still dark as she instinctively leaped to her feet, her heart in her mouth.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

She frantically scanned the room for Oliver. He wasn't in the bed.

She kicked the bathroom door open, and he wasn't in there either.

'Lucy,' she heard someone hiss her name, and followed the noise blindly to the hotel room door, where the thudding was coming from. Oliver was crouched in the corner, fully dressed, clutching his gun. He grabbed her forearm roughly, and pulled her close to him.

'What is going on -?'

'- Lucy, there's another gun strapped to the side of my bed. Go and grab it,' he whispered in her ear.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The door vibrated, and Lucy knew it was only a matter of time before whatever/whoever was trying to get in would succeed. She stumbled clumsily over to Oliver's bed and fumbled around, feeling an outline of a gun in her hands.

Shaking, she grabbed it and ran back over to where Oliver was, but he extended his arm and pushed her away. 'Go,' he hissed, 'out of the bathroom window.'

She stood there for a second, trying to gather the information in her head. 'I can't leave you -'

'Lucy!' She could hardly hear Oliver over the thudding now, it was coming thick and fast. 'Go. Now.' She could see the furious glint in his eyes through the darkness.

He looked almost demonic.

As the door groaned under the hammering, Lucy crammed her Converse on in autopilot, and stumbled towards the bathroom.

Once inside, she looked the door, not that it would do much, and cracked open the tiny window above the bath.

She felt sick, every inch of her body buzzing with fear.

Not even trying to be quiet, she squashed herself through the tiny window frame, only slightly bigger than a cat flap. Her feet barely touched the concrete before she took off running in the cold, dark night.

Clutching the gun, she hadn't even thought about if it was loaded, let alone what she would do if she came across whoever was hammering down their door and she had to use it.

She got halfway down the balcony when she heard the unmistakable crack of a door flying off of its hinges.

She froze in shock.

Oliver.

She had visions of big, burly men forcing him to his knees, shooting him in the head, when all he had tried to do was save her life.

Yet here she was, running away. Would she ever know if Oliver survived?

Besides, what would happen to her, she had a gun she didn't even know how to use, how would she be able to protect herself? Without him, she didn't even know what she was running from.

And his arms... so warm and strong, wrapped around her all night. His soft hand running across her cheek.

She couldn't let him die.

Before her brain could even rationalise what her body was doing, she broke into a full sprint again, following the path around the side of the motel to the front.

She ran, panting, across the car park, into the small patch of woodland in front of the motel, and tried to catch her breath whilst she hid behind a tree.

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