Hey guys. :) Sugar-Crazed-Moose here. This is my first fan-fiction, so... Yeah! I hope you like this.
Disclaimer-I don't own Harry Potter and stuff. J.K. Rowling does, bless her soul. She's a writing genius! Safe and Sound, the title, is based off of Taylor Swift's song, Safe and Sound. I don't own that song, it belongs to Taylor and her recording company. HOWEVER, I do own my two OCs and the homeless man. Yes, one of my OCs was named after Taylor Swift, so... :) Yeah!
He was after us. That much I had pieced together. The man was after Taylor and I, yet there wasn't anything we could do but run.
Taylor and I used to joke about situations like this. 'You're my best friend, but if we're being chased by a madman, I'm tripping you!'
Only now, it wasn't funny at all. It had started normally enough, two fourteen year-olds (technically I was thirteen, but we were celebrating my birthday the next day) going out for coffee, laughing about crushes and sharing test grades and such. I had ordered a latte, extra creamy, with no whipped cream. Taylor had ordered a hot chocolate (she could be childish) with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup. After taking out drinks to a nice secluded table in the corner, we set our drinks down and continued to chat about how my teacher was being unfair for taking off half a point because I had doodled on the test sheet.
Then the man came. He took the seat on the table over. He seemed normal, although he had scraggly hair and a tattered jacket. I didn't give it a second thought though, this was San Francisco, he was obviously homeless or something. The foreclosure had hit everyone hard, and he was undoubtedly another victim. Then I noticed his eyes. He had crazy eyes, which was another tribute to most homeless people, but there was something about them... He looked ready to kill someone, and he had his hand buried deep in his jacket pocket. I inched away, closer against the wall.
"Is he bothering you?" whispered Taylor, a little too loud for my liking, her blouse's zipper dangling in the frothy top of her hot chocolate. "I can talk to management, get him out of here. He probably doesn't have money, and its customers only."
The man stiffened, and turned his crazy eyes to Taylor. Taylor flinched back.
"No, no, Taylor." I said hastily. "I think we're fine. All good. There's no problem here!"
Boy, was I wrong. That's when everything took a turn for the worst. I saw his hand move, a flash of rusty silver, and I felt a slight pinprick in my side, yet I couldn't do anything. I knew I couldn't do anything with a knife pressed into my ribs.
"Listen here." The man said in a raspy voice, as if he hadn't talked for months. "I have a knife pressed into your side, pretty girl. Struggle and you'll have a knife in your stomach, and a friend who I'll come back for. If you don't want to end up dead, I suggest you cone with me."
The man got to his feet, and I hastily followed after his knife scraped my ribs through my blue blouse. It was summer, and one of the rare days that the sun had burned away all the fog in San Francisco, leaving both residents and tourists scrambling for swim suits and surf boards.
Taylor got to her feet as well, but I noticed she grabbed her hot chocolate. Who else but Taylor would want to finish her hot chocolate when a crazy homeless man had a knife pressed up against her friend's chest?
"I'm going to walk outside. Count to thirty, and then follow me. If anyone asks you if you're okay, ignore them. Don't. Say. Anything." he growled, and then whisked out the door.
Taylor and I looked at each other nervously. I felt my cut that the man had left on my side. Blood seeped through my shirt, and my fingers felt wet. I squeaked. My heart felt like it was in my throat, yet I felt it pounding in my chest, and pounding in my ears as well.
Taylor, however childish she was, was always the brave one. She led the way, expertly weaving through the crowded tables, and out the door that gave a cheerful ringing sound.
No one gave us a second glance. No one thought anything was wrong. No one thought we were going to die.
The man was waiting for us. He rasped, "If you even try to run, I have very good aiming skills." he twirled the knife in his hand, and then strolled down the street as if nothing had happened. Taylor and I exchanged confused glances, but followed him none the less.
We followed him for at least fifteen minutes, taking a left on Embarcadero, and a right onto First Street, ect. Suddenly, the homeless man took a right, into a shadowed alley. I took a nervous swallow, and then whispered. "Taylor, we're going to run."
"No." she snapped, but kept her voice low. "He'll kill us! He's crazy!"
"One... Two... Three!" I whisper-yelled, and then took off running, back down the street, Taylor right behind me. I heard the man give an angry yell, and then heard his footsteps pursuing us.
A car whizzed by and honked, and I hopped onto the sidewalk, instead of running in the middle of the street.
He was after us. That much I had pieced together. The man was after Taylor and I, yet there wasn't anything we could do but run.
Why was he after us, though? Why couldn't he have gone for someone else in the coffee shop?These questions ran through my mind, among others, but I didn't have any answers.
Taylor pulled ahead of me, her cross-country spirit showing. I scrambled to keep up with her, breathing hard, but vowing not to slow down until we got somewhere, anywhere safe.
That's when it all happened. The silver pocket knife flew past my ear in slow motion. I turned my head to see it making its way slowly toward Taylor, who had no idea what was coming for her. It was headed to the small of her back, and I was the only one who noticed.
"TAY-!" I screamed, but cut off as the knife, the cursed silver pocket knife, buried itself into the small of Taylor's back.
She confined running for a second, but then crumpled to the ground in a heap, the knife protruding from the small of her back.
"TAYLOR!" I screamed, running toward her limp body. "Taylor!" I howled, screeching to a halt by her, and lifting up her head. "Taylor, please, please, please don't die. Taylor, you gotta wake up, you gotta run with me."
Taylor remained limp.
She couldn't be dead.
It was impossible.
She couldn't be dead.
I noticed the homeless man lumbering toward us.
"Leave us alone!" I screeched, "Don't come near us!"
The man leaned toward Taylor's body, and I howled, punching his face as hard I could. He screeched, and recoiled from Taylor and I.
I didn't even see his hand move, but suddenly, I felt the silver knife pressed against my throat, Taylor's blood dripping from the blade.
"Go ahead!" I screeched. "Kill me, kill me just like you killed Taylor."
"Fine." the man growled, and I felt his knife draw across my throat.
"You're going to hell." I rasped, before everything went black.
Thanks for reading. :) I hope you liked it! Please review. The button's right there. XD