"That was torture." I groaned. A large sigh escaped my throat as I leaned my head back against the white leather seat.

"How do you think it felt for me?" Sam said from the driver's side. I severely underestimated the amount of eyes that would watch me get into Sam's car.

To be fair, we were supposed to be sworn enemies. And we were. But I was pretty sure that I even saw the principal's head peeking out of her window. Which, in my opinion, seemed a little bit ridiculous. We weren't the universe's fucking soap opera.

This wasn't some clichè falling in love with your enemy story.

What do we look like to you? Wattpad characters?

"No one is ever going to shut up about this." I complained, pouting as I watched buildings begin to pass by. I hadn't even noticed that Sam was already driving away.

Sam made a weird sound, clearly not enjoying the idea of it either. "My friends are never going to let me hear the end of it."

"Your friends! You should have seen the look on Millie's face when I told her that I didn't need a ride because I was going to your house." I pulled my legs up onto the seat. This entire situation just kept getting worse.

I wish that I had just chose a movie on Friday instead of complaining like a baby. None of this would have happened.

"You told her?" Sam asked, sparing a glance at the way I was now sat. To my surprise, it didn't seem to be out of annoyance as much as it was something else. It was the same look he had given before, the one that I had actually seen on his face numerous times since we first met. To this day, I never did figure out what it meant.

With a sigh, I said, "Unfortunately."

"How'd that go?" He pushed again.

"Since when do you care?" I blurted out, trying to read Sam's profile. His bruises were already getting paler than yesterday, but they still made me mentally wince just looking at them. Out of what I told myself was morbid curiosity, I looked up the lifespan of a bruise. Apparently they lasted for about two weeks, which seemed far longer than I had ever noticed before.

He chuckled. "You got me there."

I rolled my eyes, and turned back to the window. Even though it was only three-thirty, I could already see the sun heading for the hills. Nothing like the beginning of winter. I wondered if Millie would ever forgive me.

It wasn't like it was my fault that some creeps were watching me sleep, or just simply watching my house overall-

Oh, my god.

"Sam." I spoke quietly, a chill traveling down my spine.

His blonde brows furrowed at the sudden mood change, his head turned to me. "Sawyer?"

I parted my lips for a moment, a little bit freaked out to say it out loud. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe that wasn't what happened. The longer I sat like that, the more I felt uncomfortable.

"Sawyer?" Sam asked again. He progressively grew more nervous the longer that I was quiet. There was that look again. "What the hell is it? You're freaking me out."

"Sam, my room is on the second story."

He only blinked his hazel eyes a few times, watching me, trying to read something within me. I couldn't help but stare back. I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't move. Maybe it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Then again, maybe it did.

"Hold on." He suddenly said, pulling the car over, putting it into park, turning it off, and turning in his seat to look directly at me. "So, you found a note talking about you when you were sleeping." I nodded. "And you're saying that you were sleeping on the second story."

I nodded again, only this time with a sick look on my face. Hearing him spell it out like that made me want to dig a hole right there before curling up to die inside of it.

He swallowed. "Your window? Was it open?"

I let out a long breath, hoping that my eyes conveyed the message. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had ever opened the curtains. I wasn't the biggest fan of sunlight.

"Please tell me that it was open." Sam finally pleaded. His voice was so quiet that I wouldn't have heard it if we weren't in such a confined space. Suddenly, it felt a lot smaller than it had been moments before. Just me and Sam, only a feet or two apart.

I slowly shook my head.

Almost instantly, Sam turned back forward in his seat, his eyes closing, and his teeth prying at the scab on his lip. What did that mean? Well, the simple answer was that someone was inside of my house last night, watching me sleep. Either that, or there was a camera. Neither option felt safer than the other.

Not wanting to awkwardly stare at him anymore, I glanced around to see where he had pulled over. We were in the neighborhood right before Sam's, where most of the houses were vacant. They always advertised it as an up and coming neighborhood. It sort of freaked me out, seeing so many expensive houses just sitting there, waiting for someone who was made out of money to come buy them. What a waste of land.

When I finally turned back to Sam, I caught sight of some blood dripping from his lip down to his chin. He successfully ripped the scab off. "Sam." I said softly, trying to get his attention.

It worked, his eyes opening to meet mine.

"You're hurting yourself." I answered his questioning gaze.

Almost immediately, his hands found their way to the blood, swiftly working on wiping it off with the back of his hand. Although, he didn't seem fazed by it in the slightest. It seemed that he had become very used to that habit of his. After he effectively wiped it off of his chin, he appeared to fight himself from going right back to biting the reopened wound.

"I'm sorry." Sam finally said, his tone dark and quiet. I opened my mouth to ask him why, but he was already talking again. "I'm sorry for involving you like this. Yes, you are also a contender for the blame, but you're right. I should have found an alternative, like going to the police. And I don't know why they are taking such a liking to you, and I don't know what to do about it. When Dennis, Cade, and Brian got involved they just brushed it off." He looked me directly in the eyes, an expression of confusion and wonder shining through. Something in it reading as though he knew something that I didn't. "But they won't leave you alone. There's something about you that intrigues them."

My heart started beating heavily under his strong gaze. I didn't know why, I wasn't one to get so anxious. There was simply something within the intensity of his eyes. "But why?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

I watched as Sam lost the battle with himself, and his canine tooth dug into the cut on his lower lip. Not being able to watch him hurt himself like that, I looked back out through the window, searching for a distraction.

Dusk was beginning to cast its golden glow onto the earth, creating deep shadows via the large homes around us. I started to wonder if anyone lived in any of the houses on the road, since I couldn't see a single car in any of the driveways. All of the yards had for sale signs in front of them.

I turned around in my seat, curious to see if it was the same behind us. However, as soon as I did, my heart lurched up into my throat, and then proceeded to fall out of my asshole.

My hand gripped Sam's shoulder without the consent of my brain, and my voice wavered slightly when I spoke. "Sam."

Within a millisecond, his eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror, before his hands found the keys. He turned the ignition with lightning speed, his foot fumbling to find the pedals.

But before it could actually find them, the car that had been behind us, was now beside us, the window rolling down. Just as we already knew, the tall man's face was staring back at us, a large smile planted on his thin lips.

I was pretty sure that I was going to throw up in T-minus negative two seconds.

Even with all of the windows rolled up, we could still hear it when he yelled, "We just want to talk!"

I shook my head at Sam, trying to ignore the fact that just outside of my window was a horrifying man, with probably more men, watching our every move.

"Sawyer, I have to." He told me, unbuckling his seatbelt and glancing back at me. "You have to stay here."

I scoffed. "You can't possibly expect me to watch you get the shit beat out of you!"

"Sawyer!" He yelled, garnering my attention pretty well. I pleaded with my eyes, hoping that he would just listen and speed home. "I'm not a fucking pussy, alright? So I'm going to go out there and you're staying here! And please actually fucking listen to me."

And that was all he said before slipping out of the door.

I watched as he walked around the front of the car to where some guys were exiting the black van. That Drake man was leading the way, standing the closest to Sam. I was so focused on them, that I didn't even notice the man who suddenly stood outside of my door.

When I did though, it was safe to say that I jumped high enough to reach the fucking moon.

I know, I had got skills.

He had the phrase Who You Looking At? tattooed along his hairline. If you asked me, it looked like a third grader wrote it with permanent ink, but supposed that it was intended to be intimidating.

If we were being honest though, it was more the crazy look in his eyes that made me wish I jumped out of the car and onto the highway while I still had the chance.

When I remembered Sam, I couldn't stop myself from looking back over at them. Now that they weren't yelling, it made my job very hard. I didn't have a clue as to what they were talking about.

Until a smirk grew on Drake's lips, and Sam's head spun over towards my direction, his eyes wide and frantic. Unfortunately for my extremely slow self, it took me a moment too long to process what that meant.

The sound of the psycho outside of the car gripping onto the handle, had my senses snapping into overdrive. Without wasting another second, since I had already done plenty of that, I jumped for the door lock, praying that I could reach it before the door was already cracked open.

But like I had already realized within the last few days, God was not my number one fan.

The door was being ripped open by the time the lock clicked, and I was desperately trying to crawl out of my seat and into the driver's side.

I didn't know what exactly that would accomplish, but I was terrified and desperate.

However, as you may expect at this point, he managed to get hold of my ankle despite my efforts, dragging me towards him with a weird smile. What the hell did that smile even mean? My legs began kicking with a mad frenzy, everything in me telling me to get the hell away.

And I did, for a moment.

My opposite foot struck his hand with vigor, causing him to lose hold of me. With extreme amounts distress, I kicked him a second time, resulting in him stumbling back for a moment. When he did, I took the opportunity to grab the door in an attempt to close it.

But I didn't get very far before he was in the way again, this time putting one hand on my upper thigh, and the other arm around my back. It was safe to say that it was the most uncomfortable moment of my life.

As my final attempt to free myself, I started throwing every part of my body around, trying as hard as possible to break out of his firm grasp. It seemed that no matter how many knees to the legs and elbows to the gut that I gave him, he was fine.

How did I manage to get so lucky with those first two kicks?

Obviously, my main goal was to land a hit to the groin and run along on my merry way, but he had me held in a way where I couldn't quite reach the right area.

As I was being ripped away from the false safety of Sam's expensive car, I expected my imminent death. I didn't give a shit about how dramatic I was being.

"Glad of you to join us." I heard a very familiar voice laugh. My body was somehow spun around to face where Sam and everyone else were talking.

After a moment of struggling against the creep who held me still, I took in the sudden change in demeanor. While I was in the car, a lot had clearly happened.

Sam was now being held back by three different guys, and the bruise on his jaw was once again flaming red. It was very obvious that he had been hit again. His lip was pouring out blood, and I couldn't tell if it was from his tooth prodding the wound, or from the blow he took. His eyes were searching me, looking for something. I couldn't help but feel like they were trying to relay a message of some sort. Yet, I couldn't read them at all. They were hooded and dark.

"Now, Sam." Drake began, his eyes lit up like a wildfire of enjoyment. He had olive-toned skin, a scraggly black beard, near-bald head. None of that mattered though, because all I could focus on was his unbelievable height and muscle mass. "The money."

Sam averted his gaze from me to turn it to the man, twisting his face into an expression of malice. "I don't have it!" He yelled. His tone was set, and he wasn't going to waver.

"You're a rich asshole." Drake continued. "I'm sure you can throw some up."

And just like that, he walked towards me, causing Sam to struggle against the people holding him back. I did the same, and even though I only had one person keeping me at bay, I couldn't even handle getting out of his grip. I was so fucking pathetic.

Drake smirked and took the man's place, bringing me over and in front of Sam. I nearly tripped as I attempted to protest, but he roughly dragged me to my feet using the back of my shirt. I was shocked to find that it hadn't ripped. When I was right where he wanted me to be, he brought one arm up to hook around my collarbones and neck, the other gripping a rather large tuff of the dark hair on my head.

I tried to bite back a wince when he practically tore the hair out of my skull in order to tilt my head back slightly. Sam started throwing elbows around, in an attempt at breaking out of everyone's hold. He was so hard to hold back, that I saw a fourth person grabbing onto the back of his shirt as well.

"The money." Drake said again, but this time he tightened his hold around my throat, pressing his arm into the underside of my chin. His other hand tugged on my hair again.

I tensed my jaw until it twitched, needing some way to hold in the pain. I could be pathetic, and I definitely didn't need four people to hold me back, but I would not give him what he wanted. I wasn't going to whimper.

Sam growled, looking at Drake with narrow eyes. "What happened to the time?"

"I didn't feel like it anymore." Drake chuckled, his torso vibrating against my back as he spoke. I was too close to him, and it didn't help that he was starting to choke me with the way his arm was wrapped around me. Breathing was becoming a chore.

"Since when is this his business!" Sam continued. "This is between you and me. Not him!"

Again, both of his hands tightened. I was fairly sure that my hair was going to be ripped out of my scalp. The longer it was suspended by his hand, the more the pain yelled for my attention.

But that wasn't my main concern anymore. No, because now I couldn't breath at all. I tried hard to bite down the panic I felt when I realized it, but I knew I couldn't by the look on Sam's face.

My hands gripped tightly at his arm, prying at it, hoping for just a drop of air. My mouth opened, desperately trying to breathe. No matter how hard I was trying, nothing was getting in.

My lungs began to burn. It felt like when you sat underwater for too long and you weren't sure if you could reach the surface in time for another breath. Except, the surface felt like it was infinitely a millisecond out of reach.

It wasn't until my head began to get light that my body switched into hyperdrive. My nails were scraping against his arm, hoping for an escape. I just need a little bit of air...

Sam was desperately fighting against the people stopping him, yelling things. And by the vibrations against my back, I knew that Drake was yelling too. I couldn't hear them though, the need for air was so much louder.

My ears rung and my eyes began to water, my throat was dry and my head felt like lead. I was reaching the end of my limit, and yet I was only more aware.

I was aware of every hair being pulled to its limit by the hand that was holding it captive. I was aware of the way his arm was pressing against my throat, and I knew that it would bruise whether or whether not I survived. I was aware of Sam's eyes, how helpless he looked as more people helped hold him back.

I was aware of the dark that was prying at the corners of my vision. Slowly beginning to spread, specks of color dotting around. It was like watching fireworks at my own funeral.

Until I was suddenly breathing again.

I didn't even notice it at first, but when I did I was collapsed onto the pavement, gasping in air, unable to get enough of it. The dark faded away quickly, but the specks of light stayed for a few seconds, maybe even minutes. My hands gripped at my throat as I coughed. My throat was aching, incapable of keeping up with my fervent gasps.

I brought my eyes over to Sam, only to jump at the sudden change.

While I had been on the floor, regaining the ability to breath, Drake had stormed over to where Sam was being held, and was in the process of punching him.

I tried to scramble to my feet, but fell from the dizziness. I couldn't help noticing that Sam never hit him back, taking the punches without responding.

And as quick as all of that began, it was suddenly over.

Drake and his minions stepped away from where Sam stood. Although, I didn't know how he could still stand. And they all simply climbed back into the van.

"I've resumed the timer." Was all Drake said before driving away.

I couldn't help thinking that everything had just escalated by one million.

•O•O•