A/N: Hey guys ;) Here's another new chapter for you guys, hopefully you'll like it. It was getting kinda boring for me all the sudden, so I added some "drama" (hehe) towards the end... I hope it turned out okay ;) Let me know what you think & maybe drop me a review before you leave? ;) ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock ;)
The question was so odd that it took me a moment to answer. After everything that had happened today, I'd forgotten that neither I nor the stranger knew each other's names. With a smile, I answered him.
"Mitchie." What a shock - I could remember my own name, but not how I came to end up in Los Angeles. At the irony, I chuckled slightly, although it wasn't exactly that funny. It was one of those moments where you laugh, just so that you don't cry. "What's yours?" I asked instead, and the stranger hesitated, although for what reason I didn't know.
"Shane." He replied after a moment, although there was a hint of regret in his voice, but I didn't know why he sounded so forlorn, so stressed, so... anxious. I nodded, pretending not to notice his mixed feelings, and instead took a small step forwards. He took my hint before he grabbed my hand, probably afraid that I was going to bolt again, with a worse result than last time, or he didn't trust me to walk on my own. Part of me wanted to tell him I was fine, but the reasonable, soft side of me clung to his hand as if it was a matter of life or death.
"Taxi!" I heard him call out, with a short whistle, before he tugged my hand gently, signalling for me to move forwards. He paused a moment later, whispering "duck" into my ear, and immediately, I lowered my head, stepping up and into the taxi. I've never been happier to have someone to lean on. Without him... I blocked the thought out of my head, since I could already picture what would've happened if he hadn't been there.
It was hilarious how I could wind up surrounded by a group of boys, and have another boy stand up for me, save my life twice in a day, and feel completely safe with him, and totally helpless without him, and then learn his name. I wanted to laugh at how unusual this situation was, and how much I was leaning on him for support when I'd only just met him all of three hours ago.
I listened quietly to Shane's voice as he gave the taxi driver to drive to the nearest hospital, and I heard the driver clear his throat meaningfully a moment later.
"I know it's none of my business," He began, and I stiffened, wondering what he would say. Maybe he was really a decoy - maybe he was working for that group of boys. I brushed off the thought almost as soon as it came to me, telling myself I was simply being paranoid. Maybe, if I could see, I would be more comfortable. "But, if I might ask, how did the lady come upon those scratches?" He sounded simply curious, and possibly slightly worried, and I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I'd told Shane earlier, when I felt Shane's hand squeeze mine in a silent message to stay quiet.
"Oh, we were all on vacation in the woods when a bear found our camp. My friend here was trying to defend us..." I heard him groan in mock pain, as if remembering the horrible moment, and I frowned. What in the world was he saying? That was the most ridiculous, absurd story I'd ever heard. The taxi driver would be a fool to believe us. "It was horrible, so horrible..." Shane broke off mid-sentence, as if it was too painful for him to even finish the story. I'll admit, he was okay at acting, although not so good at making up stories.
Of course, the extremity of the story made me question just how bad my cuts were, for Shane to be telling such an insane story, especially since the cab driver didn't sound like he was faking it one bit when he let out a gasp. It was just another moment that I wished fervently I could see, because it would just be so much easier.
It seemed that 'easy' wasn't a fan of me, though, as I've noticed.
"If you don't mind..." Shane's voice came from beside me, and I could hear the impatience in his tone as he hinted at the taxi driver that he was in a hurry to get to the doctor's, and the taxi driver quickly muttered a hurried apology before I felt the car begin to pull out into traffic.
A moment later, I felt Shane's hand move over my own and squeeze gently - reassuringly - and not surprisingly, I actually did feel comforted. Something about having Shane near me, holding onto me, made me feel safe - maybe it was the fact that he'd saved my life twice today. Or maybe it was that I had no one else to rely on - there was no one else I could trust, not even myself.
"Sorry for being nosy, sir," I flinched when I heard the taxi driver's voice, momentarily forgetting I wasn't alone with my thoughts. He'd startled me, that was all, and I soon relaxed against the seat, although my hand still gripped Shane's tightly. I was afraid to let go - I'll be the first to admit that fact, because I'm not ashamed. I learned today what happened when I tried to rely on myself, and now that I knew how the outcome could be, I wouldn't be rash again.
"It's no problem," Shane's tone was soft and kind, as I felt a flicker of a smile at the kindness he was trying to show to the taxi driver. I wasn't sure why, but somehow I knew this wasn't exactly usual for him.
I frowned at this thought - why could I remember certain things, but not truly important things - like why I was blind, why I was in Los Angeles, and so many other countless questions. Nothing made sense, and I had a bad feeling that things wouldn't for quite some time. Or, at least not until I could answer those two main questions.
In some ways, I was scared of going to the hospital - I hated waiting rooms, I hated having people see me like this - and yet at the same time, somewhat relieved. Maybe the doctor could provide some answers - answers I needed desperately. The taxi driver, however, spoke up again, breaking me out of my thoughts and back to the present.
"I was just, of course, wondering what Mr. Torres would say." His tone was low, suddenly, and I felt myself, and Shane, tense. "Since you say she was on vacation with you, and those cuts are rather fresh, but Miss Torres hasn't been on any 'vacation' recently." He knew we were lying - I felt my heart jump into my throat as I considered jumping from the taxi, and almost immediately decided against it.
Before I could tell Shane to get out of the cab, I felt a hand clasp onto my wrist, and I was pulled forwards roughly. Staggering, shocked, my head reeling, I could hear Shane shouting behind me, and yelling coming from the two, but I couldn't understand what they were saying because my head was pounding.
I found myself listening, however, when something cold was placed against my skin.
"I'll expect payment, of course, in return for the release of Miss Torres, and for keeping your little secret." I could tell he was smiling, his tone sounding as if he'd trapped us. Secret? What secret? After a moment, my brain focused on the more important part of his sentence: he'd called me 'Miss Torres'... I tried to remember if that was my last name, but it did sound slightly familiar, but at the moment, I couldn't seem to think straight.
"Listen, I'll give you what you want - just let her go, please." Shane spoke up from behind me, his voice firm, and I groaned inwardly. Not this, again. I hated this - how did I manage to wind up in these horrible situations once again? I felt the taxi driver's grip tighten on my wrist, which only made me pull back harder.
"Sit still!" The taxi driver complained, but I ignored him as I continued to struggle against him, until Shane's hand moved to rest on my arm.
"Stop moving, Mitchie. I'll pay him and we can go, okay?" His tone was gentle, soothing, although I knew he was secretly nervous but trying not to show it. Maybe the taxi driver would see it as a weakness, and instead of taking the money and letting us go, he'd decide we'd make better hostages. I begrudgingly did as I was told, and I could hear Shane fumbling behind me, and the sound of something being wrinkled. "Let her go and I'll give you the money." His words were directed towards the taxi driver, but I couldn't resist interrupting.
"Don't you dare give him a dime!" I yelled, once again resuming my attempts to pull away from him. I couldn't let Shane do this - how come twice today, it had come down to him giving money to save me, just some pathetic blind girl he'd had the misfortune of running into. He shouldn't be doing this - I wasn't worth it.
Before Shane could respond, however, all three of us froze at the sound of someone banging on the glass. I heard Shane gasp softly, and the taxi driver's grip on my wrist loosened slightly. I took advantage of his distraction by pulling away, and although he released me, I still felt the cold metal object cut across my skin as I finally escaped from his grip. Instead of feeling Shane's hand pulling me from the cab, however, I felt his hand take my and squeeze it tightly, as he whispered at me not to move.
"Get out of the car!" I flinched at the shout, and I felt Shane's hand grip mine tighter, and I could literally feel the fear in him, and instantly, my own sense of panic kicked in. He'd remained rather calm while negotiating my release earlier, and with the taxi driver, but now, I could tell that he was terrified. "I said to get out of the car!" The voice came again, this time closer, and sounding much more dangerous. "If you think I'm playing around..." A moment later, the sound of a gun shot rang out, and I jumped, suddenly realizing exactly why Shane was so afraid.
"We're going." Shane's voice trembled as he pulled on my hand, motioning for me to slide across the back seat with him. I obeyed hesitantly, my heart in my throat. "Whoa!" Shane's body jerked to a stop, his voice sounding panicked. "Watch where you point that thing - we're getting out, aren't we?" I tightened my grip on his hand - I wished he wouldn't decide to argue with someone who was armed with a gun. I hoped he had enough common sense to know to follow their orders, quietly.
"Shut up!" The gunman's voice was nervous, which only would make him more dangerous, and I could feel myself shaking as I wondered what was going to happen. Oh, this was not a very good day. "Just get out of the car. I'll shoot - I swear I will!" Shane tugged on my hand again, and I pushed myself forwards, until finally, I felt the solid ground under my feet, and bolted up, so fast I felt Shane stumble as he tried to steady himself.
The moment he balanced, he shoved me behind him, and slowly edged backwards, his hand firmly on mine. I took careful steps backwards, knowing that now was not the time to stumble and fall, or make any rash movements, and Shane was equally careful.
The sound of sirens in the distance could be heard, and I felt Shane flinch beside me. Briefly, I wondered why. When I heard loud footsteps coming towards us, however, and someone's angry shout, and I realized what was going on.
"Did you call the cops?" He was close, threateningly close, and I swallowed, my heart racing dangerously fast. I could feel Shane still, using his body to shield me, and I clung to him as I tried to control my tears. Please, why was this all happening to us? "If you called the cops on us..."
"I didn't!" Shane replied, his tone begging, and my heart jumped into my throat. If Shane was practically begging, then the situation had to be bad. "Please, just let us go." His voice lowered, and as he finished his sentence, I felt him take a small step backwards. I quickly followed suit.
There was a grunt from the man, and suddenly, another gunshot rang out, and the sound of struggling could be heard. Both Shane and I jumped, and I realized thankfully - after a moment - that neither myself nor Shane had been shot.
"Keep backing up, slowly," Shane suddenly whispered in my ear, "There's nothing behind us for at least a few feet, so don't worry about tripping over anything." I silently thanked him for his thoughtfulness, and slowly began to make my way backwards, Shane following me closely. I could still hear shouts coming from both the gunman and an unknown voice, and the many onlookers, but I only focused on getting away from the whole situation.
Suddenly, the scuffling noises stopped, and I froze, wondering if that was a good thing, or meant something bad had happened. I could only hope it meant that whoever was fighting with the gunman had won.
"It's okay, Mitchie. Every thing's going to be okay." Shane whispered, as if he could read my thoughts, and I figured that this meant there was some hope that things might turn out right. Of course, I wondered if he'd spoken more to reassure me, or to try to convince himself.
I stiffened when I heard footsteps approaching, but when Shane didn't tense or back away, I relaxed slightly. A voice spoke, and I jumped, before I realized that it wasn't the gunman, but someone new.
"Thank you, son." The voice did sound rather thankful, I noted, and I released Shane's hand and stepped back when I felt the man place his hand on Shane's shoulder. "We'll take care of him, don't you worry. He's going to prision, of course, for attempted robbery, and trying to shoot civilians."
"Thank you." Shane's voice held relief, and I felt myself release the breath I hadn't know I'd been holding.
It was finally over - for now.