prefacee :o

this is the preface from my book... tell me if you like it! :D

Preface.

As I’m running half naked through a perfect cookie-cutter upper middle-class suburban neighborhood, I’m wondering exactly where the point in my life was that I made the choice to bring me here. Behind me, in the distance, I can hear sirens. Lights flash blue and red. Underneath me, I feel the pavement tearing up the balls of my feet, which aren’t used to running around outdoors like they were ten years ago.
And in some direction I don’t know is an angry cult full of Bret Easton Ellis-worshippers after me. Maybe they’ll use their trademark, a slashed jugular and a TB carved on my right pectoral, right above the heart. They probably won’t, because there won’t be any time; if I’m lucky they’ll be too rushed to even use a knife, and will just off me with a gun. If I’m unlucky, they’ll hit me with the car so I can’t run and they have more time, though that might still be lucky if it kills some nerves. Just as long as they don’t take me away, but that probably won’t happen, what with all the cops that are out.
I should have stayed at the police station, I’m thinking if only I stayed at the station instead of freaking out and running while Liam and his cronies combed the city for me and waited for me to screw up. And boy did I. My lungs are on fire while I debate whether to duck between two houses into an alley or keep running through yards the way I am, close enough to a house to crash through a window and get to a phone but far away enough to not wake up the family and bring more cops into this.
What a pile of shit, I’m thinking as I look at the alley again, listening hard for the sound of Liam’s huge SUV, the sound of any car nearby, but the cops have blocked off a lot of the roads and there’s nothing I can hear except for a few bunnies or something in a bush nearby.
I leap a hedge and run to the right and hop an iron fence but my toe catches and I fall on my face and I’m thinking shit shit shit shit but I don’t say it because if I say anything, if there’s a single Teddy nearby, I’m dead. My jeans are torn now, and I think my toenail was ripped open or something because I can smell blood coming from my foot. In the house next to me a light turns on, so I get up on my feet and ignore the screaming hell-pain in my big toe to run and very carefully inch my way out of the yard and into the alley.
It hits me that this may have been a bad decision when I see the grill of a painfully familiar Lincoln Navigator sitting silently ten feet away.