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“Keep on going…” I repeat those sole words.
“Don’t run away from your destiny. No matter how hard it gets. When the time is right… I promise you, I’ll be by your side.”
“Who are you?” I stare at the man’s back as he slides his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll be watching you, Evangeline.”
My eyes widen in shock.
“Always.”
A force crashes into me, and I expect nothing but pain to follow, but I’m embraced in nothing but warmth—muscled arms hugging me so tightly, I can barely breathe.
So much is happening, the overstimulating trigger, that far too familiar tingling sensation that warns me from head to toe.
Death must be playing with me at this point because I’m still breathing rapidly, suffocating with how I’m pressed into drenched material.
I have no choice but to pull back enough to gasp for breath, only to acknowledge Zander’s panicked eyes as they meet my wide ones.
“Z-Zander…” I croak, realizing my voice is beginning to fade. “W-Wait.”
I don’t understand.
We’re supposed to be dead.
All I can do is turn my head to the left, staring at the machinery that’s stilled a mere inch from us. I immediatelynotice the bullet holes that decorate the front exterior, realizing they had to come from my right.
One of the bullets had to have hit the engine…
Turning my head the other way, I notice how my vision is already beginning to struggle — the blurring encouraging me to further squint to see who possibly intervened in preventing my murder.
I almost miss it.
My vision is clear for a few seconds, allowing me to see the individual in all black who blends so perfectly in the shadows.
What gives them away is the mask on their face.
A pink bunny mask.
He raises his hand to his lips, but instead of his finger being placed solely against his curled lips, I catch the glimmer of a pink gun.
My pink gun?
“How did he…” I dare to whisper to myself, watching him blend with the shadows until I can no longer see him.
I should feel relieved, but my body just feels like it’s spiraling into another state of mayhem.
Turning my attention before me only triggers the next set of events.
My cheeks pressed by large palms and my lips smothered by trembling lips.
“You are fucking mad!” Zander screams at the top of his lungs, pulling further back to look into my face with wild eyes. “You were going to kill yourself?! That’s MY fucking role! Not yours.”
“You’re… not… suicidal… though,” I struggle to speak as the realization that I’m not about to die begins to make my body quake. Another wave of prickling numbness rushes through me, the second warning sign.
“Not fucking yet!” he shouts, and I’m surprised to see his eyes water.
Oh, shit…
