Feel Again

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I took in a deep breath and focused on surviving instead of the pain shooting through my leg. Hanging on, I swung my body over the cold brick wall. Landing on my feet, I took off at a sprint seeing my misty breath escaping from the opening between my lips.

I didn’t know how they found me or why they still wanted me. Hopefully, they wouldn’t show up at the next fight because I would prefer to stay alive and I need my winnings this month. The night I fought his son they had stolen my winnings that night and I had nothing left to give them, but my life.

The men wouldn’t have been able to catch up to me because they were too heavy. They might have had the brawn, but not the agility.

I took a few more turns through the backstreets of Paris during the frosty winter, hearing the sound of snow crunching under my feet. Finally, slowing down to a jog, I felt the sweat drizzling down my back and my face. I had traveled about 4 kilometers from the warehouse on the outskirts of town.

I finally stopped and grabbed my leather jacket from my brown leather backpack. I slipped it on, and I tied my black boots tighter, so my ankle had at least some support. I let my mahogany brown hair out of its high ponytail to release some of the tension. I swung my backpack over one shoulder, slid my beanie over my head to cover my ears, and started down the backstreet that opened up to the brightly lit streets of Paris.

It wasn’t yet cold enough tonight for it to snow, but the clouds couldn’t hold anything else in, so raindrops fell from the sky and filled the streets of Paris. The beautiful lights from the restaurants lining the streets reflected in the water. The water flashed hues of violet, cobalt, and gold. It was the perfect moment. I tilted my head up to the sky, letting the sky mourn for me. It felt the burden until it was not strong enough to carry it anymore, allowing its tears to fall.

People rushed through the narrow streets, trying to find shelter, and I stood there at peace. I was knocked over and fell to the hard cement. A hooded figure stood in front of me with a chiseled jaw, and he looked young. He was probably around my age, but was incredibly tall and towered over me. I assumed he was about 6 foot 3 with a nicely toned figure. He stuck his massive hand out for me causing his biceps to flew and the shirt to hug his figure even tighter. Out of anger, I got up myself whilst noticing his bruised knuckles decorated with dried blood.

A deep and husky voice came from the boy standing in front of me, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

In return, I just glared at him and started to walk off in my soaking wet clothes. I felt someone following me from behind, so I turned around and noticed it was the boy from earlier jogging to catch up to me.

“You didn’t have to be rude about it, it was just an accident,” he announced to me as he pulled off his hood. I then realized that he was Hunter Thompson from our high school, the International School of Paris. We are both in the Diploma Program and are in our 11th year. I tilted my head up to him and recognized his eyes, but I didn’t remember from where.

I turn around to face him and exclaim, “Well, you didn’t have to bump into me!”

He searched my eyes, and I didn’t let him look any further by turning around and walking away. I still felt him follow me, so I decided to take a long way home to lose him. I honestly wasn’t even surprised he didn’t notice who I was because I was invisible at school.

I walked across the bridge to go over the Seine and stopped in the middle once I confirmed no one was around. It was around two in the morning on Saturday. The post lights flickered, and I once again saw Hunter approaching me. I turned to face him angered that he wouldn’t just leave me alone when I thought I had lost him earlier. I blurted out, “I just want some peace. You don’t even know who I am.”

“Sabrina, just calm down okay, I only wanted to give you something that you had dropped earlier.”

I was shocked to realize he even knew who I was and then noticed he was holding my black leather journal in his hand. I looked at his grey eyes that looked like a storm was brewing, and I never meant to upset him. I only wanted to be left alone. I moved the eyes back to the journal, and memories from over the years had been brought to mind. Panic surged through my body, and I couldn’t breathe. My hands clasped over my chest, and everything started to close in.

I remembered the way she was lying on the floor with blood beneath her. Her face was covered in tears trying to rid the pain within her. Her eyes appeared tired from fighting to survive. Screams came from my mouth while my parents rushed into the room. Behind me that day all I could hear were voices. I assumed they called for an ambulance, but it was too late. Most of all, I remembered her life slowly slipping away as I held her in my arms while tears streamed down my cheeks.

My body hit the floor from exhaustion and the memories resurfacing. All I could do was shake. I felt strong arms pick me up, and I hid my face away from them in fear of being vulnerable once more. I could not trust anyone or be with someone because of what she experienced.

But within moments, I was once again consumed with flashbacks and fear causing me to sink into an unconscious state.

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