Free Afire: Entire Blinded Series by Sarah Masters Page B

there. Kids out for a joyride.
    The car skids, back fishtailing to my left, and comes to stop. My heart pounds, and I hurry, not wanting anything to do with whoever sits inside. A car door opens then slams, and I risk a glance back to see what's going on. A guy storms toward me, a weird mask on his face, one with goggles attached. My stomach flips, and I turn my head to face the front, legs like jelly.
    "Oi! Where d'you think you're fucking going?"
    Oh, shit .
    I spin around, walking backward, once again taking in that damn fucked-up mask, designed to scare the shit out of people, I'll bet. I open my mouth to answer, my words snuffed out by the guy's arm rising, a gun held in a gloved hand.
    Jesus fucking Christ .
    "I said , where d'you think you're fucking going?"
    The voice is distorted, kind of muffled, but I swear it belongs to Trevor. What the hell is he playing at? Should I answer him? If I don't, will he use the gun?
    "I..."
    "You ought to fuck right off, I reckon,” he says, his stride assured, gun hand steady.
    He jabs the gun at me, and I eye the hole where a bullet could come speeding out at any second, the streetlight we've just passed showing it in all its terrifying glory. I glance around for somewhere to run, the only option through the hedges and trees—the only place with cover—but before I get a chance to run, Trevor lunges forward and smacks the gun handle down on my temple. Pain rips through my head, and I drop the bag before sinking to my knees. Trevor grips my hair, holding it tight in his fist, and points the gun to my throbbing temple.
    "We don't want faggots round here, you got that?"
    Powerless, I nod, piss seeping into my jeans.
    "Your sort...well, we just don't want it, right?"
    I nod again, willing the tears away. Even if my courage from earlier returned, it wouldn't do me any good now. The gun sees to it that I'll keep my mouth shut and do as he says.
    "So, I don't expect we'll be seeing you around here again, will we?"
    I shake my head, stare at his trainers—pristine white Reeboks—and imagine my blood spattered all over them if he pulls the trigger.
    He yanks me upright, gun still pressed to my head. A click echoes— shit, he's taken the safety off, shit, shit, shit —and my bladder releases more liquid.
    He looks down at the path. “You fucking pissed yourself?"
    I jerk my head up and down.
    Time slows. Laughter floats out of him, his teeth bared, crowded tombstones in his mouth. The car engine hums a few feet away, and faint shouts issue from inside the car along with the thump of jungle music. My legs grow chilled from the cooling piss, my feet and trainers sodden. Trevor looks so damn hellish in that mask, his eyes partially obscured by the tinted lenses, his nose covered, mouth a thin line in the centre of a circle cut out of the rubber.
    The strobe of oncoming headlights has Trevor whipping around, the gun lowered beside him. I remain where I am, willing the car to slow, for the occupants to get out and help me.
    Trevor turns back to me and snarls, “Remember what I said. Don't come back. Or next time I'll fucking shoot, right?” He runs toward his idling car, yanking open the door and jumping inside. His yell of “Go, go, go!” reminds me of the movies, and if I wasn't so scared I'd fucking laugh.
    The other car slows as Trevor's speeds away, and I stare across the road at it, already forgiving the driver if he roars off. He doesn't. Or rather, she doesn't. Her pretty face turns toward me, and she looks through the glass. The window glides down, and she studies me wide-eyed. She seems familiar, maybe a couple of years older than me, and I wonder if I know her from school.
    "You okay?” she asks.
    I nod, though I'm far from okay.
    "You want me to call the police?"
    I shake my head. “No. No, it's just some lads fucking about. It's...it's all right."
    "Want a lift into town?"
    I think about it for a second. God, she's brave offering me a ride. “What's the time?"
    "Quarter