Young Writers Society

Okay, so I'm a little uncertain about this continuation. I had another plan for how this story was gogint o go, but suddenly this happened...? So tell me what you think, and if it ruins the tone of the story so far.

Chapter Eleven

My knees turned to jelly, and Caiden had to hold me up with his arm tight around my shoulders.

“Keep walking,” he said in my ear, his breath warm and making me shiver, despite the danger suddenly ahead. I obeyed him as much as I could; my steps were shaky and slow. Everything inside me told me to run. Yet there we were, going towards the danger.

As we walked closer, their faces became more illuminated by the moonlight. They were souls, just like Caiden and I. I relaxed a little, having expected monsters of some sort. Some demon of the ghost world. But they were young people, just like us.

Caiden squeezed me gently, to let me know we were stopping. We were about three yards away from them.

“Just passing through,” Caiden said to them, tone careful. I could tell he was trying to appear uncaring and friendly. Only I could feel the tension of his arm around me.

I studied their faces with fearful interest. They weren’t kind faces. The five spirits were all males. Frowns pulled down the corners of their mouths, and their eyes were all hard and menacing. One of them was extraordinarily good-looking, and I got the impression he was their leader.

Indeed, he stepped forward. “Give us the girl and you can move right along,” he said. I was struck by the softness of his voice. His order did not register in my mind at first. But when it did, my mouth dropped open.

Caiden’s mouth tightened. “I can’t do that. My sister is all I have left.”

It was ridiculous to me that, among my terror and speechlessness, I was hurt. Was that how he thought of me? Just as a sister?

The leader smiled—it wasn’t a nice smile. “You’ll really have nothing left if you don’t give her to us. Now.”

I glanced up at him. Caiden’s jaw was clenching and unclenching, the muscles jutting out. “I can’t do that,” he said again.

Their leader nodded. “Fine.” He turned to the others and pointed to me.

The four of them approached, slowly, and Caiden shoved me behind him. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said. His hand was wrapped so tightly around my wrist that I resisted the urge to cry out in pain.

The leader didn’t respond. He simply stood back, leaned against one of the rocks, and watched as his comrades went towards us.

They branched out. Two suddenly darted at Caiden, while the other two ran around him to me. Caiden swiftly punched one of them in the stomach as the other seized my arms. The other boys grabbed Caiden. He growled, wrenched his arms free again, and swung at him. They both stepped back. Caiden whipped around and ran at my captor. The boy holding me shoved me in the way, and the fist landed on my cheek, snapping my head back. I couldn’t hold back a pained cry. Face anguished, Caiden turned again when he realized the other three were going at him again. He kicked a boy in the shin, slammed his forehead against another, but the last boy abruptly swung a baseball bat—he must have been hiding it behind his back—towards Caiden’s head. We both saw it one instant too late.

I screamed as he crumpled.

The leader sighed, straightening and coming towards me, where I struggled in the three boys’ grasps.

“Stubborn guy,” he said, voice remaining the same, neutral and soft tone. With the tip of his sneaker, he lightly pushed Caiden’s head.

“Don’t touch him!” I snapped, a tear trailing down my cheek. I’d never seen such violence before, and it shocked me to my core.

The man—boy, really—looked at me. “You’re not really his sister, are you?”

My brief fire dwindled. I didn’t answer, and jerked my head to the side so I wouldn’t have to look at him as he neared. My eyes fell on Caiden, lying in the road, and I felt like I was going to throw up.

“What’s your name?” the leader asked me. I still didn’t answer. He sighed again, and something glinted in his hand. I couldn’t resist glancing down to see what it was, and my heart rose to my throat when I saw it was a small knife.

“What’s your name?” I was asked again. The sight of the knife did not loosen my tongue; it froze it, and made my very bones tremble.

The leader of what Caiden had called the Drifters touched my straining arm with the knife. The others just watched with mildly interested eyes. I bit my lip.

“You’re going to come with us,” the boy said to me. “Whether you want to or not. If you cooperate, it may go easier for you. I don’t like having to ask more than once. I’m being very kind right now, but my patience isn’t going to last much longer. One last time: What is your name?”

My instinct told me to tell him, and I decided to trust it. “Hope.” My voice was a quivering whisper.

The leader of the Drifters leaned back, smiling in satisfaction. It was the first emotion I’d seen on his beautiful face. But he can never be as beautiful as Caiden… I thought angrily, again looking at my friend on the ground. My stomach constricted.

“Very good, Hope,” the boy said to me, turning my attention back to him. “I’m Christopher. These are Ryan, Matt, Danny, and Nicholas.” He nodded to the boys around me. I didn’t bother to look at them, and found the courage to glare at this Christopher.

“You’re going to regret this,” I choked.

His faint smile grew to a grin. “I don’t think so, my Hope. I really don’t think so.”