Chapter Six: Project Run(a)way

I looked out the tinted car window and saw that we were at a place I had never been to before. None of the landmarks that we passed ringed any bells and I didn’t have the guts to ask where we were, not after what I witnessed in the kitchen.

At Kieran's not-so-subtle remark, I got led to the guest bathroom upstairs. Even with the soap and warm water it was hard to scrub off the filth I felt. Hours of waiting for the worst possible outcome did things to a person. And my body was Tommy’s trophy case: the cuts he had given me were a stinging reminder that I could never be truly clean. My hands shook so much that the bar of soap slipped from my grasp several times while I bathed. Adriel was kind enough to lend me some of his clothes. I put them on quietly, struggling with the tracksuit bottoms. There wasn't wasn't choice anyway. My own clothes were stained with blood. When I slowly made my way downstairs again, Adriel was pestering Kieran to hurry up with his cooking. He covered the pot on the stove, rambling on about how good things couldn't be rushed, washed his knife, wiped it then promptly sent it flying back into the knife holder. He literally just flicked his wrist and threw the knife, sending it whizzing through the air and it slipped right into the knife holder. I had stood by the archway, not believing my eyes.

Did everyone here play with knives?

“So what kind of clothes do you wear?” Kieran asked once we entered the mall. He gave me the once-over, eyes scanning the borrowed shirt and jogger bottoms I had clinging to my body. The clothes actually fit me pretty nicely; I liked them a little loose. I started, afraid he might pull out silver throwing knives like Tommy and start burying them into me at close range.

He threw that knife like a card.

“A – Anything comfy,” I stuttered. Adriel noticed my discomfort and nudged me.

“What’s wrong, love?” he queried. He glanced around casually.

Everything is wrong. This is wrong.

I shot Kieran a wary look before shaking my head and walking on. Behind me, I could hear Adriel whispering not-so-discreetly to Kieran.

“She’s terrified of you.”

“Really?”

“Can’t you see it? She keeps looking at you like you might jump her at any second.” There was the sound of skin hitting skin followed by a groan. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I can’t help it if she’s afraid of me," the other defended himself. "And rightly, she should be. Of all of us. We fucking kidnapped her!”

“That doesn’t mean we should bloody scare her whenever we see her! It’s already bad enough Tommy made a mess out of her.”

“Well, it’s Tommy’s fault for taking a girl instead of one of the guys.”

“You know we’ve been tracking – “

“Guys?” I turned around and the both of them stopped, staring at me.

“Yes, love?” Adriel said, his usual smile returning.

“You realize you're speaking at normal volume?”

Both of them blinked, caught, cheeks pink. Their blurry expressions prompted a little smile from me.

“I want to pick my clothes here.” I pointed up to the store we had stopped in front of and both guys groaned.

“Hot Topic?” Kieran said.

“Really,” added Adriel dryly.

“They’re my clothes, not yours,” I said defiantly, forgetting about how afraid I was of Kieran and of the conversation the both of them were having. I was unable to filter what came out of my mouth whenever I felt like someone was judging me, no matter what situation I was in.

“And it’s our money, not yours,” Kieran fired back, folding his arms across his chest. I returned the glare he gave me. We were having a stare-down: the short girl versus the scary guy and it looked like neither were going to back down. Adriel stepped between us, using his body as a barrier, effectively blocking my view of Kieran.

“Before you two start your debate . . . Key, just let her pick a couple of jeans and tees here. Then we can go to another place.” Adriel nudged his friend’s shoulder as though by doing so he could make him agree. My eyes were still locked on Kieran’s but it seemed like I had won the fight.

Steeeeerike one.

“Why do teenagers like Hot Topic so much?” he muttered, shuffling after me in defeat.

“Like you weren’t a teenager once,” I scoffed. “And I’m a few years too old to be called a teenager.” Truthfully, I did feel I had outgrown this taste but some of my clothes back home were like this and I needed familiarity.

“Young lady, you’d better – “

I stuck my tongue out at Kieran and darted away. At first it was just to get out of his sight. His face annoyed me. I came round a low shelf of folded tees and it struck me. Running away. If anywhere, here was the place to do it. Public and open. Getting to a place where they couldn’t reach me was my priority now. I could worry about finding my way back later. Checking to make sure neither of them suspected me, I slinked to the entrance, keeping to the racks of clothes, hoping to make it out of the store before they turned and saw me. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, I failed to see the holes in this plan.

For starters, my legs were accommodated to walking, not running. I wasn't the fastest runner either, having left behind my athletic days when a sudden asthma attack hit me a few years ago. Secondly, there was no where I could think to go. What were the chances of people believing me and not them? Low, and there were factors contributing to this. Even if I went to the ladies' room, they could just wait for me outside. But maybe I could get someone to call help for me once in there. It was still risky yet I carried forward with it.

I'd just ran past one store - one sad store - and already my legs were complaining. Suddenly spurring my muscles into action clearly did not sit well with them. And, theoretically speaking, I wasn't really in danger of death right now so the motivation might have been a little off.

"You really didn't think this through, did you?" Kieran manifested by my side, easily keeping up with me with his long strides. His arms came around me and tightened, lifting me up and so I was folded over his shoulder like a dishcloth. Alarmed, I clung to his shirt, afraid of falling off. Part of me was relieved I didn't have to run anymore, the other was mortified.

Escape Attempt One: fail.

“One week of confinement and you still weigh the same,” Kieran complained, voice rumbling in his chest and resonating in mine. Initially, I struggled in the hold he had me in, landing pointless, half-hearted punches on his back. Adriel walked beside us, chiding my behavior like a mother scolding her child. I felt like a five-year-old. Kieran wouldn’t let me go, only adjusting his grip to hold me better as he walked. Humiliation burned through me as we made our way up one floor. I felt absolutely deflated after he'd caught me so easily, thinking that they could throw me off the car later and I wouldn't care. People stared at our oddness as we passed them. Some even went so far as to deliberately walk in the other direction or pull faces as they passed. I used Kieran’s back to prop up my arm so I could rest my chin in my hand, trying to decide if I was too embarrassed or too dejected to scream for help.

“We’re getting a leash next time,” Kieran grumbled, finally setting me down. I pushed him in response then looked around.

“Uniqlo?”

I recognized this place and the clothes because I used to come here with my friends. They loved shopping for clothes, always keeping up with the latest trends. There were pretty comfy-looking clothes here but they usually came here for short shorts and jumpers. Chanel and Valentino were more common for them, and those cutesy boutiques. I couldn’t understand why; it wasn’t like they needed the clothes. In fact, they had more than what was necessary. I was more comfortable in clothes that weren’t dresses or skirts or materials that made my skin itch, preferably those that came cheap too. Hence, thrift shops.

Thrift shop clothes regularly came in good condition. I was doing the world a favour by using still usable clothes. If I was lucky, I'd come across a soft jumper or fruit-themed button-down.

My friends!

They should have noticed my absence from class by now, right? We met every morning under the huge oak tree near the Harries Building before splitting off for lectures. I walked to class with Yolande three times a week, got coffee with Josie on the weekends and binge watched Family Guy with Justine. Plus, I still had Brittany’s dress. There must be a search going on. They must have contacted the police because I never skipped a day of class without informing any one of them. A small sense of hope flickered in me.

“You’re a girl. Embrace it.” Kieran’s voice sucked me out of my thoughts.

“Coming from the guy who’s called me fat twice in three hours,” I retaliated automatically.

Adriel steered me away from Kieran before we could start bickering. For someone who could toss knives, he sure knew how to get under my skin. I understood now what Adriel was trying to tell me earlier on about Kieran. The guy can really grate on you.

“We just think that you could use some decent clothes,” he said. “Especially after the way you’ve been treated. Besides, we brought extra money for you.”

I weighed Adriel words for a second. Why are they doing this? Was it even possible to kidnap a person and then treat them like a friend after letting a mentally-disturbed gang leader torture them? Was this their version of the last meal before the execution?!

“Fine. I’ll choose from here.”

I reached for a soft pink blouse that was just on the rack in front of me.

“No! What are you doing?” Kieran was next to me in an instant. Again.

“What?” I asked, confused at his reaction.

“Do you see that the front has to be knotted?” He pointed to where the front ends were longer than usual, hanging down like limp rabbit ears. "You'd look cute in it but not this shade of pink. In fact, not pink at all." Kieran looked at me expectantly, as thoughhis statement was general knowledge and people who didn’t know that were simply idiots. “Come on, let’s go to another section.”

It turned out that the guys were actually fashion savvies. If I picked something I thought was nice, they would tell me what was wrong with it and how it didn’t suit me. We spent two hours in three different shops, picking and trying on clothes. They did the picking; I did the trying. Seeing so much masculinity sashaying around the women’s section, picking up dresses and blouses was highly amusing. Each time I came out of the changing room with a dress or top they didn’t like, Kieran would tell me I looked like a pregnant cow or a badly dressed potato sack.

“Even my grandmum had better clothes, God rest her soul.” Kieran looked up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling for a moment, his hand over his heart before turning his steely blue gaze back to me. “Change.”

When I came out in something that suited me, they would smirk and Adriel would snap a picture.

“Wait.” Adriel held up his phone at an angle and took a shot. He shook his head. “Nope, too angular. Try turning your head a little to the left. Okay, now stick your hips out just a bit. Great! Hold that pose.”

Click!

“Were you a photographer before you turned mental?” I asked innocently, standing with my hands on my hips, facing the two guys. The shirt I had on was a cropped-at-the-front sort, its hem just above my belly button and the back half way down my butt.

“I like capturing things.” Adriel studied the image on his phone. “I like remembering.” A frown took over his features just then and he lowered his phone, looking lost. Kieran quickly rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back into reality.

“Maybe that’s enough shopping for today,” he said. “We have more than enough already anyway.”

I raised my eyes to him. "For you. I haven't gotten what I wanted yet."

They had chosen blouses and feminine tops for me, along with some form fitting jeans, shorts and two cardigans. I couldn't even pick my own underwear without Kieran breathing down my neck.

Eh, I brought that on myself, really.

"We're not going back to that teenager shop," he said firmly.

"Please?" I begged. Not the whiny kind. The sort of begging you did when you have to see your daddy one last time before he gets put away in jail. There was a certain genuinity in the tone used. Pitiful, almost. I had my plea delivered beautifully because I really did need a couple of shirts from Hot Topic to stabilize myself.

The both of them exchanged brief looks. Kieran sighed. Adriel smiled.

"Hot Topic it is."

At the end of our trip, I concluded three things. One, as annoying as Kieran could be, he was a brutally honest person. Two, Adriel had a thing for photography. And three, these bad guys didn't seem so bad at all.