www.whyville.net Oct 30, 2011 Weekly Issue

Times Writer

Expiration Date: Part 6

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The song ended. What seemed like a million years had, in all reality, lasted a few minutes at the longest. I looked around desperately, in need of Blake. Jack's cold hands were still wrapped around my back, and I felt their icy chill straight into my spine. It was horrible, being in his clutches.

This man. He was the one who changed my life forever. The one who scarred me, the one who messed me up, the one who took away my childhood. What would my parents say, knowing I was dancing with their murderer? I looked into those empty, soulless eyes and realized the end was near. I was going to be murdered by this man. Because he didn't care about me, he didn't care about anyone but himself. He just wanted to finish what he had started.

I shivered as my body was shoved into his by another dancing pair. We swooped around and around, finally reaching the edge of the dance floor. My heart was racing; this was my time to run for it. As we neared the back exit, where no one was, I bolted. Manson yelled out as I escaped his grasp and ran back into the crowd. My hair fell out of it's bun into it's natural waves. Adrenaline and fear pulsed through my veins. I saw nothing but blurs of dresses and heard cries and yelps of disapproval from other guests.

I turned for a second to see Jack pulling at his pocket inside his jacket. He was angry. Really angry. I gulped and pushed forward. Running in heels hurt, I didn't like it much. I lost my balance and stumbled into a table, where Jack lept at me. He shoved me face down onto the lacey yellow tablecloths. Everyone stopped and stared at this odd display, and the DJ was instructed to cut the song early. Jack spoke into a small microphone clipped on his blazer.

He told his goons to shut the door and take away all cell phones. They were shutting this place down -

It was a hostage situation.

And I was the bait.

I turned and tried to fight back. "Let me go!" I shrieked, looking past Manson's shoulder, desperately looking for a face that would help me. Everyone cowered against each other, shying away from the three men with guns pointed. "Please, let me go." I whispered.

Jack laughed a horrible laugh, and a gunshot rang out. I waited patiently for the bullet to enter my skin. Pierce through my organs. Spill my blood. Kill me.

No such thing happened. I looked up. Jack turned me back, so I could only see a wall with a mirror. This was no time to check myself out, but he was holding my head. I looked up, noticing white letters and numbers over my head.

I saw my expiration date.

It was that night.

I would die soon.


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