_ _ _ The phone rang and she knew that they were going to kill her. She was so sure that she couldn't even move. The blade up high in her frozen hand, her hair glued to her face between the steams of hot water that dripped on the tiles. Ring-ring. She stayed very still, holding her breath as if her stillness and the silence could change the course of what had just happened. Ring-ring. She was in the bath tub, shaving her right leg, the soapy water up to her waist, and her naked skin stood on end as if she just opened the cold water faucet. Ring-ring. On the stereo of the room, played the song "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics. She always feared that songs were omens, and suddenly they were really dark and threatening. Mike would scoff at her but that noise made her know that she was right and that Mike was wrong. She was right, as always, but what good would that do now? Ring-ring. She let go of the razor, walked out of the bath tub and slowly made her way to the bedroom, leaving tracks of water on the floor. The telephone was on the covers, small, black, and sinister. She looked at it without touching it. Ring-ring. Terrified. Ring-ring. It's ringing was mixing with the song's lyrics, as if it was part of it. Because some of them, indeed, wanted to abuse her. "If the phone ever rings, it's because I have already died. So then, run. Run and don't stop running, 'cause I won't be there to help you. And if you make it alive, wherever you are, drink a Martini in my memory. For the good times, babe. For the good times." And that's just how irresponsible and brave Michael Newton was. They used to call him the King of the Track, even Mr. Carlisle Cullen. Mike was capable of rising planes over a thousand feet high and flying over the water in the darkest nights, avoiding the Federal's radiators and the DEA's traps.

The water that kept dripping from her body began to make a puddle under her feet. The phone kept ringing, and she knew that it wasn't necessary for her to answer the call to know that Mike had run out of luck. The phone ringing was enough for her to stop and follow the instructions given to her, but it isn't that easy to accept that just a simple Ring-ring can change your life forever. After what seemed like forever, she finally got the phone and pressed the green button.

"Isabella… Mike's dead," She didn't recognized the voice. Mike had friends and some were loyal, forced because of the times when they passed the weed and the finest packages through the wheels of some cars headed to the U.S. It could be any of them. Maybe it was Alex Carter or Joey Monteon. She didn't recognize the voice and she didn't need to, because the message was so fucking clear.

"Mike's dead" the voice kept saying.

"They've killed him and they're planning on killing your friend's family and you. So run all you can. Run and don't stop running." And then the line went dead, and she looked down at her feet and realized that she was shaking with fear, and thought that, whoever the person on the phone was, had repeated the same words Mike had said. She imagine anonyms man paying attention between the smoke of the cigarette and the drinks in the bar, Mike in front of him, smoking weed and his feet cross under the table like he used to sit, his Louis Vuitton loafers spotless without an ounce of dirt in sight, a scarf around his neck, his aviator jacket hanged over the back of his chair, his blond hair cropped by his sides and a sharp and secured smile plastered on his face.

"Would you do that for me, bro, if the fuck me up? Would you tell her to run and to not stop running, because they want to fuck her up, too?"

The panic came unexpectedly, very different from the fear that she had earlier. Now it was a burst of confusion and madness that made her want scream and bring her hands to her head. Her legs were unable to hold her, so she landed seated on the bed. She looked around at the white and golden trim of the headboard, at the pictures up on the walls with beautiful landscapes and a couple strolling at sunsets, cute little porcelains knick knacks that she had collected and put up on the shelf with the intention that their home would turn out to be a cute and comfortable one. She knew that it wasn't a home anymore, and that in a couple of minutes it would be nothing more than a trap. She saw herself in the big mirror in front of her, naked, soaked, her dark hair glued to her face, and between her locks her brown eyes wide open, wild with horror.

'Run and don't stop running' had said Mike and the voice that repeated Mike's words.

So then she began to run.

Yay! Finally published! Leave a Review if you think it was great, okay, or even terrible. Keep in mind that this is my first story and that I'm actually translating the story from the original book but also changing a few things. Well, thanks for reading! & don't forget to review! ^-^