Saved By My Step-Brother

Chapter 2 - "Go back to being August"

Chapter 2

"Go back to being August"

- 6 years ago -

It had been about four months since I left my home. However, I did not miss it, but I did wish that I could have seen them one last time. The instance I entered Dante's vehicle, he got rid of my phone, my hospital clothes, and handed me over a cigarette, demanding that I smoke it. I obeyed, and it had been hard, but manageable ever since the first time I had done it with him. We drove for hours, stopped at a motel the first few nights, and although he showed me a huge box of only cash, there was a thrill from entering a convenient store with guns and stealing as much as we could. Dante would enter first, scream that he had a gun and the cashier would raise their hands higher than they ever thought they could. That was when I'd run inside, and pack a bag with different goodies that we would munch on later. We loved doing this, and soon I became accustomed and a bit too comfortable.

Once, I rushed inside the store after he made his signal, however since he had turned his head, he had not seen the rapid movement of the cashier as he reached under his counter, into a cabinet and pulled a shotgun. Instantly, the instinctive side of Dante reacted, and he leaped to the floor, and the cashier shot went off, plastering all the glass doors onto the floor. I remained quiet, attempting to determine who had shot the first shot, and there was a second one, as Dante ran around the store. When he reached my aile, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me, running with me out the front door and that was when I saw the man behind him shooting shots. He shot as we escaped from the store, dove into our cars and drifted away.

Dante had unfortunately been hit by two bullets in the back, and he had not been happy about it. He threw a fit, punching the steering wheel and complaining about the pain, and I panicked, not sure what to do and apologizing for absolutely no reason. As he drove, he screamed, "You have to stitch me up or else I'll f*****g bleed to death, you moron."

I breathed rapidly, my hand reaching for his back and noticing how fast the blood was pacing out from his body. I felt my stomach become nauseous, and all the goodies I had eaten earlier were rising to my throat, until he gripped my collar and pulled me to him, snarling, "If you even think of puking right now Nina, I will beat the living s**t out of you to the point that you'll regret ever existence."

I held it in.

We pulled over in an abandoned warehouse, and he leaned against me, struggling to walk as we made our way inside. As we marched slowly, he grunted in pain and breathed, "You have to take 'em out. The...bullets," he was beginning to faint, his face turning into a strange purple shade and his lips suddenly drying abnormally. Luckily, he always carried an emergency first aid kit, and in there had sowing utensils. In the warehouse, he dropped to the floor, sweating profusely and becoming incoherent. He had lost a lot of blood, and instantly I ripped off my clothes and pressed on the wounds. He began growling when I pulled the first bullet from his body, and immediately stitched him afterward, gulping at ever pierce from my needle into his skin, and forced myself not to puke. The pain had been unbearable as I watched his teeth grit terribly strong that I thought they'd break.

He had fallen unconscious by the time I got to the second bullet, and I raced to the car, grabbing water that we had and placing it to his lips. Dante did not wake up for another four days, and I sat in the warehouse, desperately wishing that he had not died. I felt his pulse, continued to check repeatedly, but seeing no reaction from my slapping, was scaring me. When he finally moved, I had been laying on his back and had fallen asleep. He lifted himself from the floor in pain, causing me to wake as well. As soon as his eyes met my gaze, I began to cry, heaving and puffing as my nose began to run. Tears raced from my eyes, staring at his eyes with life and his body facing me.

He raised an eyebrow, placing a comforting palm on my head before saying, "Why are you crying?"

"I thought...you were....dead," I muffled between cries, and he began laughing, leaning towards me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders protectively. I sobbed against his shoulder, tightly clinging to his bare chested body and embracing the warmth that he transmitted. I didn't want him to die, since he was the only reason I wanted to continue living this life. We stayed at the warehouse for another three days, as he sent me out to buy some food and medicine in order to keep the wound clean and disinfected.

He was sitting up, as I cleaned his wound on the third day, his hair wet from the use of water and shampoo to clean ourselves, and he munched on a chocolate bar from the bag of goodies we stole. When he realized that my movement had stopped, and I drifted into my own thoughts, he called my name, "Nina."

"I'm sorry," I rapidly said, continuing to clean his wound, "I was just—"

"I'm fine," he cooed, glancing above his shoulder. He knew I had been worrying. His hair had grown, covering bits of his eyes, but he stared at me. "I promise I'm fine."

When he said those words, I began quietly sobbing, pressing my forehead against his back and gripping his waist. All that had happened had traumatized me, since it was distressing not knowing whether he would ever wake or not, and only having his slow and soft pulse to go on. I was worried about him, so much that the first night I did not sleep, and paced back and forth as he laid unconsciously on the ground. It was difficult, and I was afraid the wounds would worsen.

He listened to me cry, lighting his cigarette, and he chuckled as well, not saying a word.

We slept in his car in the back seats; I leaned on top of him. However, oftentimes he would shake me awake, and say, "You're too damn hot," and leave the backseats, reclining his driver's seat and sleep there. However, those days spent only him and I, had gotten us to grow closer. We did not have s*x, but it showed the care we had for one another. After we left the warehouse, his wounds had healed a bit more, and we continued to drive. I was unsure where we were headed, but being able to call his name, and having him answer me, was all that mattered. There were even oftentimes that a red light would stop us, and he leaned over in my seat, connecting our lips warmly before pulling away and continuing to smoke his cigarette. The smell of his cigarette had grown accustomed to me, that it instantly caused me to relax the minute it entered my nose.

However, he started making me drive. "I'm tired," he complained, pulling to the side of the road as he shook me awake, "take the wheel."

"But I don't know the direction," I breathed, meeting his gaze.

He snickered, and as he descended from the car he said, "Follow your instincts."

Which was what I did, but I just continued to drive straight past every intersections, until eventually, I reached a neighbourhood in a random city, and ended up at a dead end. I don't know how long I have been driving for, and it did feel like hours, but Dante was still snoring in the seat beside me, therefore I was unsure whether to wake him. He had been unusually nice and warm ever since the hospital, in which he told me to run away with him, and I was somewhat confused by his change of behaviour, but I guessed that what he had said about falling in love with me, was true.

When he woke up, I had stayed at the dead end for hours, and had fallen asleep. He was angry when he saw that I had stopped driving, and aggressively shook me awake. "I told you drive, didn't I?" he scowled, "Why are you sleeping?"

I squinted my eyes open, and when I realized what was occurring, my eyes widened as I reversed the car, and began my way backwards. However, soon I realized the car was barely moving, and there were scrapping noises as I attempted to drive. He screamed for me to stop driving, descended from the vehicle, and I saw him make a gloomy and infuriated face, slamming his foot against the side of the car before cursing out loud. Soon, he stomped his way around to my door and I flinched when he pulled it open.

"Get the f**k out of the car," he shouted angrily, gripping my hair and pulling me out as I yelped. When I descended and fell on the ground with how robust he had been, he screamed for me to stand up on my feet, and he forcefully grabbed the back of my neck when I did. He pushed me around the car, and that was when I gasped when I realized what he was talking about.

One of our wheels had been stolen.

"How the f**k are you going to fix that, huh?" He gripped the back of my head and slammed me into the car, my forehead hitting the windshield and I felt my entire vision blur. He was furious, and he pushed me aside, causing me to

trip onto the ground, catching myself before my face could scrap the ground. Sending his fingers through his hair, he slammed his fist against the car and kicked it once more. "You're such an i***t, now we have to f*****g walk," he hissed, spitting on the side before beginning to march away from the car.

I sat upwards, "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back," he screamed with hate, "Don't f*****g do anything except pack the damn car." He marched away, and faded into the distance. When I watched him disappear, I began grabbing the bags we had and filling them with all the things we needed. There weren't that many thing to carry, but I could not forget the first aid kit, the medicine and the gun he kept in the compartment box. After making sure everything had been taken out, there were around four bags, three with straps on them and one that one of us had to carry by hand.

Afterwards, I laid in the car and waited for him to arrive, and when he did, he did not speak to me, neither did he even glance my direction. Instead, he continued to smoke another cigarette, and grabbed three of the bags, beginning to march without saying anything to me. I attempted to follow him, but he pushed me back and said, "You're on your own."

"What do you mean?" I asked in a shaky breath.

He scoffed, shook his head and said, "Go back to being August, I don't need you anymore. Find your own way home or you can go kill yourself for all I care; I don't need you."