Run

*Travis POV*

What was he doing here. It had been several hours since I had ransacked that boys house. What was he doing walking out in the woods this far away. Maybe he was trying to get to his girlfriend to have private time. Or maybe he was going to smoke or drink with his friends. Whatever it is how should I know. I don't even know him. He seems like the type to have many friends, but looks can be deceiving.

But no.

He just kept walking head to the ground lot in whatever was running races through his mind. Hmm. Maybe he is more similar to me than I thought. I mean I used to do this to clear my head, along with other things, but his worked the best. I would walk out to the neighborhood woods and just think. Think about how my dads attitude changed when he had been burdened with his second, then third, child. Think about why he had picked up a horrible alcohol addiction and couldn't control his anger. Think about why he used us, mainly me, as a punching bag and how could it possibly make him feel the least bit better. And think of how you own mother turned away from actions like these, not even admitting they were true when it happened right in from of her fucking eyes. Think about how I tried to get their attention by flunking every class and sleeping with, almost, any guy. And think about how leaving clues flat on their faces wouldn't even get them to look my way. Not even a first glance.

But no they are gone now and I don't have to worry about it. Fuck them.

Fuck this. Fuck this person walking in front of me with probably a perfect life at home and gets anything his sweet little mommy and daddy want for their perfect little child. 'I'm done with this shit' I think as I let my thoughts and anger take control and step in front of the boy.

He is standing, and has stopped, facing the opposite way. Still oblivious to his surroundings. He turns around and registers what is in front of him.

"what the--" he starts to say but I cut him off.

"what the fuck are you doing out here this late. Bad enough your out too close to the city, even worse you've run into me" I say. Upon instinct I have pulled out my machete. Yea you heard me. I picked it up along the way. Can't be too safe.

A sense of panic hits him when he realizes I have a silver weapon aimed at his stomach. But that is quickly washed away over some though process in his head.

"Do it. Kill me it's not like anyone would give a shit" he says in an almost monotone voice.What? Why would he want that. Not my problem. Besides I should. It's not like I have a life after what I did anyway. I'm destined to run forever. I really should do it. But I don't.

"Why do you say that pretty boy. You've got a nice house, probably could snag a few bucks off of old mom and dad and run off to some big city. You're not like me. You don't know what it's like to go months without a fresh shower or a home cooked meal. You don't know what it's like to be screaming right in front of your parents while they just ignore you like some piece of trash?" why did I just say that? He probably thinks I'm a freak or something. Oh well nothin new.

I gave him a chance to answer, he seemed to be thinking out what he should say in his head. For one time in my entire life I can't read him. It scares me. But I don't, no, can't let it show.

He seems like he may say something bu-- What?

*Chance POV*

What the fuck was she doing? What was I doing? Did I really mean what I said? That it didn't matter if she were to stab me right now? And what does she think she knows about my life? A pretty boy, really? She is stereotyping, and I hate that. I always have. I really should say something that will make her go away. I am not comfortable in this situation. I should run. I am stronger and faster. I can get away, she won't follow me. I should stay and do as she wants so she doesn't stalk me home and possibly kill me. Maybe I did mean what I said. No i couldn't have.

Against al instinct, I walk right past her and towards my house, but I am stopped almost right away by the girl grabbing my arm and spinning me to face her. "just where the fuck are you going." She asks. It seems like I've caught her off guard. She isn't the only one, its almost like I am a different person. I really should run away from her. Call the cops, anything.

"For your information, I'm going home. You are welcome to follow, take food, money , a shower, a real bed, whatever, at my house and kindly leave me alone. I won't tell anyone and neither will you, and we can put this behind us. If you want. or you could stay out here and and do whatever the fuck you did before you ran into me. I don't want this any more than you do."

What the fuck did I just say.

She could kill me in my sleep. And now she is invited into my house. To do whatever she wants. By my invite. I swear I'm dead by tomorrow. Against everything in me screaming no, I turn around and keep walking. This time she doesn't sop me and I

never

look

back.

*Travis POV*

Did he just invite me. To his house. For a, well i guess you could call it a sleepover for laughs. How the hell could he possibly think that is a good idea. I could kill him in my sleep for all he knows. I might, but this kid is interesting. It's scary kind of. Then again I scare myself sometimes. I've done things that I can never take back. It's not fun.

Maybe I should take him up on his offer. The worst that happens is that he ends up dead and I just keep moving on. No biggie.

I wait until I could just barely see his slim figure in the darkness to allow myself to follow. He never turned back or changed his pace. I guess I didn't really need to follow him since I have been here before. But I never take my eyes off of him, watching his every move. Trying to pick up as much information as I could to be able to predict his next step.

His movements gave me nothing. And it scared me, only a little. I'm not used to this.

After about ten minutes of waiting outside his house, peaking in every window, I find the back door unlocked. I know this boy is upstairs By the light and movement in the kitchen. He is the only one here. Every instinct in me as I stepped inside and made my way over to the couch and waited for him.