"So Elizabeth, where are we going?" I ask.

"To pick up Paul before he beats up Keith," she replies. I couldn't help, but feel jealous that she kept in touch with Paul, but not me.

"You kept up with Paul, but not me!" I state, slightly (absolutely) enraged. Wait, she said Keith. Keith, the same Keith I hadn't talked to in years. No anyone, but Keith. Not after what I did.
              "LET ME OUT OF THIS CAR, NOW!!!!" I exclaim. I was already panting, and I couldn't stop. My breathing wouldn't still, and my hands were shaking. I couldn't see him, not after what happened. She pulls over, abruptly. She turns, her faces filled with concern. I wish I could stop, but I couldn't... I couldn't stop. I was hurting him. All I could see was his face contorted in pain. All my fault, it was all my fault.
                 "Calm down, just breath. Breath in... and now out. Relax it's over now, he probably doesn't remember it," She says to reassure me, and it works temporarily, but I know deep down within the depths of my mind it isn't over, he remembers it. My hands still shaking I plug my earbuds into my I-pod (older version). I slip the earbuds into my ears before shutting my eyes, letting myself drown in the music.
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               The worst part about Washington is the cold. It was currently 27 degrees, and me being from California could feel the cold eating through my jacket. I tense all my muscles to start movement and possible heat, but my the cold kills the heat as quickly as it's born. In the nine hours it took to get from Northern California to Vancouver, Washington all I thought about was what my confrontation with Keith would be like. I knew I was over thinking, under pressure I tended to become a different person. That person is confident, sarcastic, smart, and witty, otherwise known as my goal in life.
Elizabeth directs me towards a Metro station, which is odd because last time I checked Paul had Honda 2012 blue civic sedan. Paul stood outside the station in a grey hoodie with black jeans. His tan skin stood out in the freezing weather, as did his blonde hair against the brick structure. His knuckles were bruised, A sign that we were too late to save Keith from a beating.
             Keith on the other hand stood away from Paul, almost out of sight by the far entrance. His chestnut skin covered almost entirely by a royal blue hoodie. His dark chocolate eyes not even visible. He noticed us and walked over. Oh invisibility why have you forsaken me, but just like my confidence invisibility doesn't answer.
               "Keith, what did you do this time?" Elizabeth asks, with no sympathy for the fact that Keith was clutching his arm.
                "Is there any action worthy of the abuse I've suffered," he replies.
                "If you were an idiot, than yes," I blurt. He looks at me curiously, analyzing me almost.
                 "It's been a while, to what do I owe the pleasure-" he starts.
"I already used the that line, seeing that it's my trick. I mean seriously, come up with your own material. It's almost as if you were following me around with notepads in high school," I interrupt. I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't want to see him. In all honest, I would rather crawl into ball and die rather than have this conversation, but it was almost like my high school self took over me. It was Return of the Sarcasm (rated PG-13), in a sense.
"If you hadn't beat the crap out me, last time we talked I would enjoy continuing this useless banter," he replies.
"Paul, you weren't followed, right?" Elizabeth asks. This was probably important information about what was going on and etc, but I noticed something in the distance. If I didn't know better I would say that the guy looking out of the window on the 6 floor of that nearby apartment building was holding a weapon. If that wasn't nerve racking enough it was aimed at us.
"Elizabeth, you twenty seconds to explain to me what is going on," I state. Using ASL, I sign to her do you see the man in on the six floor with a gun. Though since ASL isn't exactly English so it was more like this: you see man, six floor has gun. She looks up.
"We need to move to move now!" she calls out, but at the second I hear a bang and feel stabbing pain in my ...
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I should've known, to be careful. I should known how they were tracking us. I should've have known, but I didn't because it was a lie. What I believed was a lie, every bit of it.