BLOODHOUNDS 3 The Malice

Leila Morrow

I'm a workaholic, and I need help.

That statement has been going into my mind lately. I usually work four to five days a week, from ten to twelve hours. As a sports photographer, I must always be ready because everything happens simultaneously, and you can only choose one specific scene to shoot.

That's why there are at least four sports photographers in a game.

Lately, I've been taking more shifts because Poppy was sick. She got into an accident recently that caused her to break her ankle.

She was skateboarding. Yeah, I know.

That's why I've been doing her work and mine. I've been going to the stadium daily to take photos of the players, the game, the practice, and even the mascots. Adding the fact that I've been working for twelve days straight without rest.

I'm a living zombie, and today is my last shift for the week.

Jaz gave me four days off because I looked tired and always worked extra to fill Poppy's place. Poppy thanked me and promised to treat me to a nice dinner once she recovered.

Now, I only have 5 hours left to finish my shift.

I'm this close to freedom.

I grabbed my camera and walked out of the staff waiting room. I make my way to the second floor of the bleachers so I can take photos when the stadium fills with fans. I smiled, seeing the combination of red and white.

My eyes caught a little kid running towards his dad with a hotdog, and he yawned so big, causing me to yawn with him.

I'm so tired and sleep-deprived that I know damn well that the last five hours will be hell. I grabbed my tripod and walked out from the second floor to go down. I need to hold my other camera lens.

Because the game will start in ten minutes, the place is so crowded, with fans rushing to get into their seats. My body tried to keep up with it because I was against the crowd.

"Almost at the stairs, Leila."

Before I could reach the stairs, I was pushed by the crowd to the side. My first instinct was to save the camera because it's my lifeline. As I took a deep breath and held on to my tripod for dear life, someone bumped into me from the back and casually kicked my tripod.

Everything happened in slow motion.

My eyes were set on the camera, slowly kissing the floor, shattering itself into small pieces. My first reaction was my eyes popped out of its socket, and I screamed. I turned to the man in a suit who kept walking with his friends.

I ran towards him and grabbed him by the arm, turning his attention to me.

I gasped when I saw his face. His short black hair was styled neatly, making him look approachable. His dark brown eyes were captivating like it's hypnotizing me into oblivion. His glasses made him look like he conquered the world. This is my first time seeing such beauty from a man. How can he be approachable and intimidating at the same time?

"What the fuck do you want?" His first cold remarks made me realize why I stopped him.

"Are you fucking blind?!" I screamed at him and showed him what he had done to my camera. My eyes were glued to his as he turned to the man beside him.

"Did you trip her?"