Page 54 of Shifted

"I'll help you up, Angel, climb onto me," I look at him questioningly, but when the gunfire draws closer, I wrap myself around his torso as he uses the rope as he walks up the side of the building. As we reached the top, we lay flat down on the building.

"We just had them, sir!" I hear one of the men shout out. A hand covers my mouth before I can say a word, and my eyes shift to Amartolós. He moves his finger over his lip in a silent signal, and after a few minutes, he removes it.

"I have somewhere I have to go today," I whisper.

As I sit up to see the sun begin to rise, I look down and hear laughing and see my target like an idiot in plain sight. Within an instant, I draw my gun and fire down at him as I watch his body jolt and fall to the ground, then fire a bullet at each of his guards.

"Angel of Death," He whispers.

?

Five years ago

The sound of pounding music leaves my ear drums unsettled. If anything, I would've left this place twenty minutes ago if I could've, but for the sake of Miranda, I stay.

I watched from afar with my drink as she swayed her hips back and forth with some random guy on the wrestling team. She tries to impress him, but I get second-hand embarrassment. We were in some shitty frat house swarmed with hundreds of people. I placed my drink down as I needed to find a place to pee and make my way to the back bathroom.

It smelt like stale beer, piss, and someone’s vomit. After squatting down, I go to wash my hands, and the sink itself looks infected. I feel like gagging as I wash my hands with a bar of soap that looks like a cesspool on its own.

When I return to the table, Miranda continues to dance with the same boy. She's my only ‘friend,’ and sometimes, I cannot stand her. She might be the dumbest girl I've ever met, but she seemed smart last year before she met the frat brothers.

I down the rest of my drink and lean back. A guy decides to join me, and as I glare at him, he smiles. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks, and I turn my attention back to Miranda, whose tongue is now down the wrestler's throat. "Ignoring me isn't cute, sweetheart," I hear him mumble behind me, leaving me in an uncomfortable state.

Avoiding his presence, I stood from the booth and walked up the stairs to be alone. As I did, a sudden dizzy feeling swept over me. But as I realized what had happened, I felt scared. I was drugged, but my mind was capacitated as my body faded. Reaching for the door, I locked myself in the room and pulled my phone from my pocket. I pressed his contact, and I sank against the wall.

"Hope?" I try to catch my breath and remain calm as he answers on the line.

"Hope?" he repeats.

"I—I need help," my voice trembles in fear as the tingling feeling runs down my side. "I can't feel my legs," I whisper.

"Where are you?" sharing my location with him, I begin to panic.

"Someone put something in my drink." Overwhelming exhaustion overrides me, and the urge to shut my eyes feels more prevalent as my eyes sting from the blue LED lights.

"Hope, I need you to stay with me. I'm on my way, okay?" I mumble incoherent words as I listen to him speak. My words aren’t coming out like I want them to, and I can’t even cry. The handle on the door rattles, and then a bang on the door is heard, and then the sound repeats.

"Someone's here,” I whisper.

"Hope, don't let anyone in that room," I hear the panic in his voice, the same one that makes my heart race as I can't feel the bottom half of me. He didn't live far from here, but someone can only be so fast.

The door handles were being jerked, and I knew it was that boy. He drugged me, the man who looked like a James Dean wannabe but in a beer t-shirt. His name was Brady Corbolt, and he played basketball.

"Occupied," I rasped as the door handle kept jiggling.

"Please come," I begged him on the other line.

"I'm almost there, Hope."

"Third bed to the left," I mutter slowly as I breathe. The room spins around me, and then the door breaks open. I'm met with the boy again.

“Get out," I attempt to yell, and as he approaches me and I feel my world stop, he brings his face to my neck, kissing me as I try to shove him off.

I can't move.

"Stop!" I try to push him, but he pins me down, throwing my phone to the side, and my eyes close as I’m frozen in fear. Then I feel his weight lifted off of me and watch as he goes straight to the ground—his fist punches in his face. I couldn't even scream for it to stop, for him not to kill the guy. The boy's face turns black and blue as the punches continue.

"You fucking touch her again! I'll kill you!'' Brady’s body is slammed to the ground again and pushed to the side. "Hope." He looked at me, grabbing my face, "Did he hurt you, Hope?" I shake my head slowly as I feel my eyes wanting to cave to slumber. His arms wrap around me.

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