HURT#38

I arrived at Hope's house in my car the following day. I halted the car in her driveway and killed the engine. I got out of the Audi and closed the door behind me. I leaned back on the door and waited for her.

Though I didn't tell her I was coming to pick her up today, I felt it was gentlemanly to do so. And because I loved her. Yes, I did. And I was glad I was finally getting used to it. I looked at the car parked before mine. It was a police cruiser. It was probably her mother's. She was the town's sheriff, and I knew she wouldn't like us seeing each other. It was just the simple truth. Parents always got hard-headed about teenage love and acted like chaperones at a prom.

I heard the door open, and I leaned off the door, expecting to see Hope walk down the short stairs. Instead, I saw her mother walk up to me with a pistol. I was perplexed. I raised my hands in surrender. It was sarcastic in the fact that the bullets couldn't hurt me.

"Who are you, and what is