“Wrong,” a pompous voice behind her called out. Katia froze, her fingers still clutching the handle-bars. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. You’re doing it wrong.”
Wincing horribly, expecting the worst, Katia spun around. Much to her shock, that was no aide‘s or nurse’s mocking remark: a patient, a young man around her age was leaning casually on a disintegrating wooden pillar, a lit cigar in between his fingers. A waft of cool evening wind swept through the man’s messy bronze hair, by the weak golden light flashing from the nearby lamps Katia’s eyes noticed immediately the plastic ID fastened securely around his wrist, unlike hers, there was no red there that seemed to act like an alarm bell for those close by. At ease with the cold, the man grinned at her unmoving stance and widening eyes, he threw his cigar down the ground, stomped on it, and strode to her.
“I don’t need your help,” said Katia, tearing from her surprise. She shook away from questions. “Stay away from me.” She turned her attention back to the handle-bars, and resumed her struggle.
The man raised his eyebrows, amusement gleaming in his green eyes. He kept a reasonable distance from her, leaned on the gate, watching her struggle with a smile.
“Name’s Kevin,” He reached out a hand.
Katia looked at him and shot cautious looks around the area, ensuring no guards had come in the wake of her distraction. “Katia,” she said in hardly a whisper, not taking his hand.
Kevin seemed to be pondering. “I take it,” he said. “That you’re the little escapee the guards are searching for, am I right?” he laughed as Katia, at once, shook her head. “Right. So you just happened to be taking a little night stroll out of your ward and thought you’d go break out of the hospital, huh?”
“And you aren’t?” She eyed him and his unruffled manner charily.
“Guard coming.” Kevin said quickly. Katia’s head zoomed from side to side frantically, in search for a place to hide. “Behind the bush, hurry—no, not that—hey, James!” Kevin rested on a nearby pole, and gave a high, casual wave.
From the dim pathway several feet before them, in the midst of the great lawn, a big-bellied guard holding out a flashlight waved back at him, grinning, and continued walking. Katia’s mouth fell open. She emerged from the tangled bush beside the gate in disbelief. “What was that?”
“What?”
“You. . . He didn’t even mind that you were out, and he’s a guard, and you were right beside the gate.” her voice, though full of incredulity, remained low and soft.
“Yeah well, what are gonna do,” he smirked. “They’re fine with it. You can say, ah, that they trust me.” When Katia went on staring at him then the spot where the guard had been further, he shrugged, and lit a new cigar from a big box in his pocket.“You get a lot special privileges when you’ve got connections.”
“There she is!”
Two large but faint figures could be seen from afar, racing toward their direction. Katia, overwhelmed by her fright, started pounding on the gates madly, ramming the handle-bars until Kevin snatched both her wrists and threw her aside; she stumbled down the ground, and, as though he did it every night, pushed open the gates with no trouble.
“What are you waiting for?”
BTW, I'm fifteen, so if you could, please give me advice and tips I can, um, understand. But I'm not asking you to take it easy on me.
Wincing horribly, expecting the worst, Katia spun around. Much to her shock, that was no aide‘s or nurse’s mocking remark: a patient, a young man around her age was leaning casually on a disintegrating wooden pillar, a lit cigar in between his fingers. A waft of cool evening wind swept through the man’s messy bronze hair, by the weak golden light flashing from the nearby lamps Katia’s eyes noticed immediately the plastic ID fastened securely around his wrist, unlike hers, there was no red there that seemed to act like an alarm bell for those close by. At ease with the cold, the man grinned at her unmoving stance and widening eyes, he threw his cigar down the ground, stomped on it, and strode to her.
“I don’t need your help,” said Katia, tearing from her surprise. She shook away from questions. “Stay away from me.” She turned her attention back to the handle-bars, and resumed her struggle.
The man raised his eyebrows, amusement gleaming in his green eyes. He kept a reasonable distance from her, leaned on the gate, watching her struggle with a smile.
“Name’s Kevin,” He reached out a hand.
Katia looked at him and shot cautious looks around the area, ensuring no guards had come in the wake of her distraction. “Katia,” she said in hardly a whisper, not taking his hand.
Kevin seemed to be pondering. “I take it,” he said. “That you’re the little escapee the guards are searching for, am I right?” he laughed as Katia, at once, shook her head. “Right. So you just happened to be taking a little night stroll out of your ward and thought you’d go break out of the hospital, huh?”
“And you aren’t?” She eyed him and his unruffled manner charily.
“Guard coming.” Kevin said quickly. Katia’s head zoomed from side to side frantically, in search for a place to hide. “Behind the bush, hurry—no, not that—hey, James!” Kevin rested on a nearby pole, and gave a high, casual wave.
From the dim pathway several feet before them, in the midst of the great lawn, a big-bellied guard holding out a flashlight waved back at him, grinning, and continued walking. Katia’s mouth fell open. She emerged from the tangled bush beside the gate in disbelief. “What was that?”
“What?”
“You. . . He didn’t even mind that you were out, and he’s a guard, and you were right beside the gate.” her voice, though full of incredulity, remained low and soft.
“Yeah well, what are gonna do,” he smirked. “They’re fine with it. You can say, ah, that they trust me.” When Katia went on staring at him then the spot where the guard had been further, he shrugged, and lit a new cigar from a big box in his pocket.“You get a lot special privileges when you’ve got connections.”
“There she is!”
Two large but faint figures could be seen from afar, racing toward their direction. Katia, overwhelmed by her fright, started pounding on the gates madly, ramming the handle-bars until Kevin snatched both her wrists and threw her aside; she stumbled down the ground, and, as though he did it every night, pushed open the gates with no trouble.
“What are you waiting for?”
BTW, I'm fifteen, so if you could, please give me advice and tips I can, um, understand. But I'm not asking you to take it easy on me.