13, An Unlucky Number (FULL LENGTH!!!)

My book 13, An Unlucky Number is quite a long novel about a case worker named Angela. Her life is scarred by the need for revenge of a man named Steelo and his accomplice Skull. Together they try to settle a century old score, striking at Angela in any way they can. Victims piling up, Angela tries to run but whether Steelo and Skull succeed or fail at their path of destruction, 13 will turn out to be Angela's unlucky number.


12. Steelo McGuire and Skull McDagger

Together Adam and Angela walked to the house of Petunia. Luckily Adam had agreed to go with her to see Jamie and so the two of them arrived hand in hand. They knocked on the door several times. No answer. They peered through the curtains to find there was no one there. They'd gone. Angela searched everywhere, but Jamie was nowhere to be found. "I don't understand.. why would they leave?.." Angela whispered as she lay her head against Adam. "I don't know, but maybe it's for the best. Petunia might have taken him somewhere nice for a change. You never know." Angela looked at him with an unconvinced expression. "Petunia? Seriously? If they did move, she probably didn't do it for Jamie's sake. I guess she might have won the lottery or something.. I guess.." Disappointment bit away at her skin. She could almost cry. She needed Jamie, and she was damn sure he needed her.

Adam could tell Angela was upset and he tried his best to comfort her. He rested his head on hers and told her everything would be alright. They arrived back at the apartment having been gone only ten minutes. It was only when they looked at the sofa did they realize Angela must have bled again that night. Angela gasped at the bright red liquid splattering Adams crystal white sofa. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.." she told him, looking distressed and guiltily at the scene. "Hey, hey.. It's okay.." he responded, patting her head gently. Adam then searched Angela's clothing. He was right. There were small patches of blood, but this time a lot less serious than the previous ones. Most of them were on her arms and he guided her to the bathroom to wash the blood from her skin.

Dabbing a flannel to Angela's arms and trying desperately not to cause her pain, Adam sat next to Angela in the bathroom. Eventually the red had been cleaned from Angela's skin, but her nose had started to bleed all of a sudden. Luckily Adam was there to help her, but it took some time for them both to realize they were not alone. Wet, rubbery hands grasped Adam's throat. The boy, that same strange boy, stood behind him, strangling the young man. Angela, petrified out of her skin and heart in her mouth, pulled at the creepy boy's fingers, trying desperately to remove his clasped hands. She yanked harder and soon she had forced the boys fingers away from Adam's neck, only for him to swipe her across the face leaving three gashes near her forehead. Free at last, Adam buffeted backwards and knocked the boy against the wall of the bathroom. He collapsed against the wall and fell to the floor, but then vanished.. But was he gone for good?..

Angela and Adam, chests both heaving in deep breaths, looked at one another in relief. The three gashes on Angela's face were bleeding quite badly, but Angela didn't seem at all worried. She rested her head against Adam, who held her close and took her hand in his. He then washed the bloodied flannel, drained most of the water from it and started to clean the blood from Angela's three wounds. He pressed lightly and Angela's wound seemed to have hurt, for she flinched. "Sorry.." Adam sighed apologetically. He then dabbed the flannel and the blood disappeared from the gashes. "All better?," Adam asked and Angela replied quietly with a smile, "Yeah.." Together they walked downstairs and sat on the sofa, cuddling close.

It was morning when Angela woke up. For some reason Dennis had fallen asleep on Angela's lap, his tail wrapped around his body as he lay curled up tightly. Dennis hadn't fallen asleep on her the whole time she'd been in Adam's apartment. Adam, Angela guessed, was still asleep beside her. He didn't seem to be breathing though, and Angela started to panic, leaning over to check if his heart was still beating. Silence. Then she really panicked. She turned Adam's lying body round to check his pulse. Nothing. Angela collapsed on Adam, tears streaming down her face. He was dead.

She lay, crying, against Adam for several hours. In the end, she was in pieces, mascara smudged underneath her eyes and her eyes scarlet-tinted. She left the apartment, alone once again. Crushed, she had no idea where to go. In the end, after visiting Petunia's house another time to find it empty once again, she finally sat down. True, she sat on a bus stop seat, but she didn't really care. Nothing mattered now. She was alone. Again. Angela stayed sitting on the bus stop seat watching as bus after bus drove by. They, after a while, realized she wasn't actually there to catch a bus, and so drove past. Soon it got dark and Angela returned to the apartment to say her last goodbyes to Adam. With Adam being dead, Angela was probably going to catch a bus and find a hotel somewhere to stay.

Angela opened the door to Adam's apartment to find the two men, Steelo McGuire and Skull McDagger, standing above Adam, looking at him strangely. They looked up at her as she entered to find them, giving her amused looks. "Shame about him, eh?," Steelo smirked in his sharp, metal-like tone. Angela ran from the apartment as soon as the two men stepped closer to her. Her heart thudded in her chest. But what am I afraid of?, she asked herself, Why cling onto life if there's no life left to cling on to? But she kept running. They chased after her until all three of them were exhausted. Angela's lungs were failing and her legs were numb, but the two pursuers still gave chase. Finally, after ten minutes of running, they had cornered Angela. Things looked bad. Really bad. Skull came at her with the knife, the same knife he had stolen from her kitchen. Angela managed to dodge the attack and, realizing she was on a bridge, stood up onto the edge and dived into the river below. 

The water was freezing and jabbed into her from all directions, her breath visible as a fog-like mist. She had escaped the two men, but had not yet escaped death. The river carried Angela further downstream, and she struggled against the waves to keep her head above the icy water. Being surrounded by so much cold water was painful, and Angela could hardly move her arms or legs. It felt as if thousands of knifes were crushing against her. In the end, she struggled to breathe and was taken away by the river. After hours of drifting along the stream she washed up on the riverbed, coughing up water and unable to get up. She lay for several hours and when Angela woke it was dawn. Exhausted and crestfallen, she got up slowly and limped weakly towards a road that ran beside the river. She had no idea where she was.

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