Dedicated to falloutfictionx! Thanks for reading, enjoy this next chapter!

I bolted upright out of my sleep for what seemed to be the third time tonight.

"Skye, are you sure you're okay? Ever since we reported your mother, you seem to be getting worse, instead of better. Is there something I should know about?"

I sighed, trying to rid my memory of the endless nightmares that haunted me as I slept. They were no longer just flashbacks of her abuse, but they seemed to predict the future. She knew I was in Chicago by now, there was no doubt about that. She would find me eventually, and once she did, it was likely that she would try to kill me. If not me, then Ryan or Rose.

Or anyone else that tried to get in her way. Patrick. I looked over at him and regretted it almost instantly. His face was full of worry and concern. I was hurting him by just being in his presence. I bit my lip to hold back a cry. I had to get my own apartment, I couldn't put him and Pete in any more danger than they already were. I had been staying with them for almost a month now, and it was just a matter of time before one of us got severely hurt.

"Skye-"

"Can we talk about it tomorrow morning? I'm really tired and I-l"

"No, enough of this bullshit. You're going to tell me what's wrong, and you're going to tell me right now." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I hate seeing you like this."

I played with my thumbs before answering him. "She knows I'm in Chicago," I whispered. "She has to. Even if she doesn't follow the media, I live in a small town, everybody knows everyone. Someone would have seen me, and they would have told her."

He wrapped an arm around me, sitting up. "I won't let her get to you, I promise."

I shook my head. "That's the thing, she won't let anyone get in her way. You don't deserve to get hurt, Patrick. I would never forgive myself if you did." I heard my phone buzz with a new text from my nightstand. It was probably Aaron and his obnoxious bad puns he sent me when he was bored.

Patrick reached for my phone. "Ignore it," I mumbled. "The text will still be there in the morning."

He sighed. "Goodnight, again, Skye."

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7 unread messages from Mom

My heart sank as I read those five words.

A lot of things can be said using five words.

Some of them can bring joy, such as *insert name here*, will you marry me?

Some of them can bring sadness, such as Dad was diagnosed with cancer.

And some can be absolutely terrifying, such as those five words that flashed across my phone screen.

I ran into the living room, where Patrick and Pete were watching a baseball game, even though they weren't paying much attention, as the Cubs were loosing badly.

"I can't fucking do this anymore." My voice cracked at the end of my sentence. Patrick and Pete turned around with worried expressions. "My mom texted me seven times," I whispered. "I haven't opened them yet."

I sat down on the couch opposite them and stared at my phone awaiting a response. When I didn't get one, I went ahead and read the messages.

How many times have I told you that you can't get rid of me, Skye darling?

I was better off without you, oh how could I have not thought about this earlier? It's a shame that you don't know how to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut.

Oh, I'll just have to kill you, and that pretty little boyfriend of yours too.

Yes, dear, I know you're in Chicago. No need to hide from me now.

And don't even consider the police. I have a GPS on your phone, I know exactly where you're staying.

Maybe I won't kill you....immediately. I want to have a little fun with you.

Wanna play a little game?

By the time I had read the last text, my hand was shaking so hard I didn't know how I managed to do so. Patrick came over to me and read the texts for himself.

"Patrick, I've got to get rid of this phone!" I yelled once Pete read the texts too. I stood up and repeated myself. "I've got to get rid of it!"

Patrick stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. "If she has a GPS, she would have used it by now. The best thing to do is take it to the police, it could give them a lead as to where she is."

I shook my head.

"Skye, you've got to get to work. While you're gone, I'll take it to the police station."

"No." He just looked at me. "I'll do it myself after work. If she has a GPS, she'll know exactly where you are. She'll stop at nothing if it means she will find me, especially if it means hurting you. All of this is my fault, all of this drama that I've put you through. I don't want you to go through any more of it, I just want you and Pete to be safe-"

"I'll go with him." Pete interrupted. "I swear, we'll be fine." Before I could protest, Pete ripped the phone out of my hands. "Now go get ready for your job, or else you'll be late."

I nodded. "Skye-" Patrick started, as he noticed I was crying

I sat on the couch, and buried my face in my hands, letting out a sob. I was just so scared, it was just a matter of time until she found us. I had to get an apartment as soon as possible and find a new job, leaving Pete and Patrick and Joe and Andy and Aaron and everyone else who's lives I had put in danger because I wasn't careful enough.

Before long, I wasn't just crying and sobbing anymore. I was bawling, I was crying harder than I ever had since my dad passed. "I'm sorry... I'm pathetic." I managed to get out between cries. Patrick and Pete both put a hand on either of shoulders.

"No, you're not." They continued to comfort me as I began to recover from my episode. "You slept in late, you have to be at work soon. I advise you get ready now." Patrick said and I just nodded.

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"Hey Skye sorry to cancel on you last minute, but you can't come over today," Aaron said as he locked up the store behind him. Since we had the last shift of the day, we had to lock up the store, and then walk home at 9 in the middle of Chicago. Fun.

"What? Why?" I turned to him. He had promised we would play again tonight.

"Well, my, uh, my friend is moving into my apartment with me, and he's still unpacking and stuff." He looked nervous, which made me suspicious.

"Whatever you say." I turned and started to walk away, and he quickened his pace to match mine.

"Do you think he could play with us, later? He's awesome at the guitar- not as good as me, of course- and he also had a bass you could use. We would be that much closer to being a band."

"You had me at bass," I said as we laughed. We reached the intersection where we went our different ways, and said our quick goodbyes as we parted.

A breeze ran through the air, causing me to shiver and zip up my hoodie. They don't call Chicago the windy city for nothing. I quickened my pace once the sun had set all the way. As much as the city is pretty at night, It just made me the slightest bit paranoid.

A pair of hands reached out from an alley and pulled me inside. I tried to let out a scream, but before I could, one of the hands flew up to my face, covering my nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe. I felt the hand around my waist loosen before moving to my head. An elbow rested on my shoulder as a cold, round object pressed to my temple. A gun.

"Try to make a run for it or call for help and I'll blow out those pretty little brains of yours." I just nodded my head furiously. My heart pounded into my throat as I was met with many series of flashbacks.

My vision started to go black at the edges from lack of oxygen. The hands let go of me, and I gasped desperately for breath, breathing in the foul stench of alcohol.

A foot rammed into my gut, sending me into the wall. I couldn't see my attacker, as it was too dark in the alley and my vision went cross-eyed every time they delivered a blow to my head. I prayed that someone would walk by and come to my rescue. But no, this was an alley on the bad side of town, any person in their right mind would avoid this alley.

The attacker kept beating me, but I didn't feel anything, even as I fell to the ground. Everything was numb, I had grown used to the pain during an attack. I wished I could feel something, anything, but that didn't come until later.

I never felt pain until the day after an attack. The soreness of my wounds would make me want to scream in agony. More often than not, they required medical attention. Wounds that wouldn't stop bleeding, possibly broken ribs and limbs, but I ignored all of them, as the emotional pain that followed was usually worse. It was unbearable when other people were involved, too. I was such a pathetic excuse for a human that I couldn't even protect the people that I loved the most when I put them in front of me.

The attacker brought me back to the cold reality by lifting me to my feet by the hood. They whispered in my ear, their warm breath reeking of whiskey. "This one's from your mother."

The last thing I remembered was the butt of the gun coming down onto my head before I blacked out.

You guys needed some real action, so here's a taste of it! This was also written on my phone, I have Wi-Fi, but my computer is starting to get too slow to function. Sorry for any typos, ans I'll try to make chapters longer in the near future.

But guess what? I'm in Chicago now! It's great so far, and I've only been here for like two days, but it's great. And this isn't late, it is currently 11:57, just barely on time.