5 5

Suddenly the sound stops and I grow worried, feeling Tristan tense up next to me as well. Nothing's wrong, keep moving. It feels like as if all my senses are psycho stimulated and I feel scared that the loud beating of my heart might just give us away.

"You won't make it out of here, not now, not ever," the person says and then mumbles something I can't quite catch. My alert eyes search in the black around me pointlessly because it's killing me not knowing the person's position.

Fortunately, the footsteps continue once again and begin to fade away slowly. I wait several more seconds for good measure then let myself relax. Beside me Tristan exhales out of relief and switches his light back on. Realizing I had been clenching my fists, I loosen my grip on my own flashlight and turn it on.

"Close call," Tristan says, his voice hardly a whisper.

I nod in agreement. "What a bad time to get screwed, I thought."

"Yeah," he replies, running a hand through his dark hair. His words seem to be coming out slower and softer.

"You should rest a little," I say firmly.

"No, I'm all good," he answers, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

I press my lips together. "It's two in the morning." I can't have a tired partner who would only slow us down. "We're stopping for a bit," I say, surprised at how calm I sound.

Tristan throws his hands up in frustration. "And where exactly?"

I think of the bakery section and the small kitchen in the back of it. "I think I know."

I lead the way to the area, looking out for anything moving other than Tristan, who stays right behind my heel. The place finally comes into sight, sending a wave of relief.

"Alright, here's what we should do," I say behind my shoulder, then get concerned when I don't get a reply. "You there?"

I turn around and frantically search for my accomplice, spotting him several feet away from his flashlight on his knees. "Tristan?" I hurry over and kneel down, shining my light at his arm to see a pretty large bleeding gash above his wrist. Shit.

"Goddamn thing came out of nowhere," he says. "Whoops, right?"

I shake my head. "It's not your fault." With my heart in my throat, I take a quick look around. "Whoever it was must be still around. Here." I take my jacket off instantly and give it to him to wrap around his arm for now. "Follow me."

We get to the bakery section and I push open the door to the back kitchen. The temperature's a little colder but I don't mind giving that up in exchange for a temporary spot. Tristan settles down in the corner, letting his shoulders slump.

"I'm going to head over to the pharmacy to grab some things," I say, eyeing his wound. Then I pull out the knife that I'd been keeping and hand it to him. "Use it if you need to. Stay put."

He nods and sinks back. "I'm not going anywhere."

I look around the place one more time, making sure it's empty. Then I turn and head out the door, remembering to make this as quick as possible. I stick to one direction and always make sure to have a good hiding place near me just in case. Thankfully, I reach the pharmacy in one piece and still sane. I jump over the counter and survey the bottles of medicine on display, grabbing a couple painkillers and shoving them in my hoodie pocket. Then I search for elastic bandages big enough to wrap around Tristan's cut. I find some rolls in the drawer and take them, as well as some antibiotic ointment. Hopping back over to the other side, I decide to pick up a water bottle on my way back.

I finally make it back to the bakery and find Tristan still sitting in the same spot, studying my knife. He looks up now, first at me then at the stuff I'm holding. "That was fast."

I walk over and crouch down beside him, dropping everything I have. "Okay, let me see it."

He unwraps my soiled jacket and tosses it to the side, exposing the wound. His right arm shines a light onto it as my cold fingers pop open the ointment tube and apply a thin layer, looking up to see him wince. Wiping my shaking hands off my shorts, mostly to steady them, I work quickly and unroll the bandage. After I wrap it as tight as I can around his forearm, I tear the excess off, occasionally checking behind my shoulder out of paranoia.

"How does that feel?" I ask as I twist open a bottle of meds.

"Much better," he replies, nodding. I hand him a tablet and some water and he takes it down in an instant. "Sorry about your jacket."

I smile and shake my head. "It wasn't mine, anyway." Then I take a quick look at my watch. 2:35 AM. "I should let you sleep. I think you need it," I add with a small smile.

Tristan turns his light off and leans his head back, closing his eyes. "Thanks," he whispers.

I place my light down and stand there for a few brief moments, watching his breaths even out into deeper ones. My knife rests next to him, and I decide to let him keep it. Then I turn my light off as well and take a seat on the floor in pitch darkness, wondering what the hell I should do for the next half hour or so. I stretch my legs out in front of me and mindlessly look around, solving math equations in my head. Not wanting to risk disturbing perhaps what could be the best nap of Tristan's life, I keep my flashlight off which leaves me with little to actually do. A part of me knows that it's only so long before someone walks in and the worry creates a bad feeling in my chest. I feel around on the floor for the water bottle and chug down whatever's left in it, taking some water and wiping my face as well. I refuse to fall asleep. My pointless earphones sit around my neck which bums me out because I'd much rather be listening to The Devil Wears Prada right now than be sitting with my own thoughts and fear. The new album is supposed to be released tomorrow. Too bad I'll never get to hear it because this place is the last thing I'll see and Tristan the last person I talk to and now that-

I snap out of it then, my eyes beginning to feel heavy. So I get up and walk around, having memorized every inch of the place earlier. Finding the back wall, I perch myself up on the counter with my feet dangling below me, not believing the fact that I actually feel lonely. I stare at a point somewhere in the dark. Do I really even care about Tristan? Or is it all because he could be useful to me and that way I have something to gain? After all, he is slowing me down. I could simply walk out right now. But he's also placing a lot of trust in me. I feel terrified with myself for even thinking of something like that in the first place. I sit there for a while longer then jump off quietly, shaking those senseless thoughts away.