Love At Gunpoint

It had to be that night.
That one specific night, when the moon was the shape of a silver scythe; where the air was warm enough, and I happened to be sitting in the hood of my sister's dirty Jeep.
I still don't know why it was that night and that day.
I still don't know why they had to kidnap me and my sister at gunpoint.
All I knew is that somewhere deep down inside me, I felt grateful to him.
At least, at first.
Even with his gruffness, his snarling and growling, and my attempts to protect my sister as I clawed, kicked, and punched; he captured me.
And not just my sister and I.
It began building since that night.
And I still don't know why.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The shouts echoed angrily and frustrated throughout the empty neighborhood. The crickets had long been silent and the stray cats stared at the house in reproach.

It had been a week.

Everything was alright back then. Happy, even.

A lone girl stared up at the sky, her face bathed in moonlight and shadows. Her arms crossed behind her head as she lay on the hood of a gray, dirty Jeep. Her clothes were threadbare, her slip-on’s coated with a drawing of Koi Fish, and her black jacket scrunched beneath her back. Her golden eyes were glazed and unfocused, her breathing shallow.

The iron door banged open.

"We had nothing to do with it! Mark my words! You won't have us for long! There will be justice!" a young woman shrieked. She slammed the door, her cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes flashed an angry black. She walked closer to the Jeep.

"Jay?" she asked.

The girl on the car’s hood stirred. Her eyes hooded as she sat up.

"Jay?" the woman asked again.

"They blamed it on us again, didn't they?" the girl’s voice bitter, when once it was cheerful.

"Yeah..." The woman walked into the moonlight. Her skin a soft golden, her eyes a friendly brown, her heart-shaped face pointed at the chin. The shape of her body a voluptuous hourglass. "Could it be that it was one week ago? Time flies. Even then, I hated this prison called a house. It even has bars on the windows," she chuckled.

"Mom was alive. I miss the bickering that she and you had," Janine mumbled.

"Jay? We only have to wait for the will to be processed and read, then we leave. For good." Gwendolyn rubbed her younger sister's arm.

Janine sighed and looked back up at the moon. She was different from her sister, yet almost identical. Where her sister's skin was golden, she had a smooth, light ivory skin. Her eyes were far different, they were a light brown-golden that held a dormant rage and calculated schemes. Her body petite and slender, and her brown hair waved around her oval face like a halo.

"I know, Gwen. Maybe once we do get out of here, I might be able to get a life," she joked.

"Yeah and you can finally work at Hooters, where you belong," Gwen mocked.

Janine looked down at her none-too-slender chest, "My dream come true."

Gwen laughed as she hugged her sister. She let go once she realized Janine wouldn't be hugging her back.

"I'm going to go talk to mom’s attorney," Gwen muttered.

"Better take that secret passage to get to the phone." Janine smiled.

"I know." Gwen gave her a smug smile, as she crept silently into the brushes.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Alone, again.

I felt the still air on my skin as I looked back at the silver moon. Unfathomable. I couldn't see what I had once seen before. The beauty of the pearly light that emanated from her round surface. I stopped seeing beauty. Has it been that long? A week? A long week without her voice? A long week inside a crowded house full of female relatives?

I grow weary. Weary of everything. I had no life.

My mind was far and I was unable to brace myself until I heard a small click and the unmistakable feel of a barrel at my temple.

"Scream and this bullet will be lodged in yer brain."

A cold voice threatened by my ear. Damn stupid gangster kids. Always acting tough, when, in fact, they were yellow-bellied cowards. Hee. What an Old Western saying.

"Look. Kid. Put that gun down before you hurt yourself," I said calmly. If they tried anything, there would be 119 pounds of street fighting techniques before they said just kidding.

"Look. Kid." This time I heard a Scottish lilt in that voice. "To yer left."

My heart beat rapidly. Nope. Not a gangster. I gingerly shifted my head to the left. I heard a rustle and a muffled grunt. My eyes widened. No way. I was about to spring away from the Jeep, my fists readied. But I found myself on the ground clutching my stomach, the breath knocked out of me. Another muffled grunt.

"Gwen. Don't move," I gasped as I raised myself to my hands and knees.

"Gwen, is it? Lovely name. Put up a fight, this lass did." The man holding her spoke softly.

"You. Don't touch her," I growled as he trailed a finger down Gwen's cheek. "Don't whimper. It will just make them enjoy it more," I ordered to Gwen, as she tried to bite at his finger.

"And ye, lassie?"

"What about me?" I snarled.

"Yer name."

"I should at least know yours." A sneer upon my face as I glared at him, "At gunpoint, I wouldn't even blurt out my deepest secret."

I should've realized that the smile that crept on his lips wasn't a good thing. And the renewed struggles from Gwen as she stared at me with panic in her eyes, was another given. But I was oblivious to both.

"Shame."

Then I felt no more.

I fell unconscious.

Damn the man with the gun.