In The Shadows
In The Shadows
Her eyes were warm, welcoming, friendly; the way that all dark brown eyes were. They glistened softly in the moonlight, and even from the other side of the street, I felt drawn into them.
There was something different tonight, something that made me want to take her up into my arms, even more than ever. Her usual eyeliner and mascara that framed those precious jewels was dripping steadily down her cheeks, contrasting with the soft paleness of her skin.
I longed to hold her, comfort her, but I couldn’t. I’d never be able to. I’ve got to finish the job. That means she can’t know me and I can’t get any more attached than I already am.
She looked up, brushing back the chocolate brown strands of hair that had fallen loose of her ponytail, revealing the true look of horror across her face as tears flooded down her cheeks, dripping and leaving wet stains on her grey tank top.
Those hypnotising eyes connected with mine from my position across the street. As they did, her lips quivered as they silently formed the words “Help me”
I slowly and cautiously approached her, from here it was plain to see exactly why she was crying. At her feet lay a slightly skeletal, yet somehow good looking man, a few years older than her. His skin was an unpleasant grey colour, in places, obscured by the thick, red, sticky substance oozing from his mouth.
His mouth was contorted into a snarl, his dull grey eyes, a twisted vision of pure agony.
His cause of death was quite obvious, even to someone with no medical training whatsoever. A large wooden, splintered pole straight through his chest, right where the heart should have been.
It was like a car crash; I couldn’t help but stare and observe his ghastly wounds.
She turned to me, a pleading expression on his face. She thinks I can bring him back to life. A wave a guilt washed over me, my stomach twisting itself into a series of knots. I could have done something to prevent this. I can still help her. When she finds out she wont let me though.
***
I was almost asleep when it happened. I was jerked out of the momentary realm that doesn’t pass as either reality or a dream by the familiar ‘beep beep beep’ of my phone, stationed, as always, just next to me. ‘They’re on the move’.
The message took a couple of seconds to sink in, as it did, my eyes shot open and I muttered profanity as I became suddenly much more alert then I was just moments before.
This was not good. This wasn’t meant to happen. Why had they changed the plans? They weren’t supposed to go yet. Maybe they knew we were watching them.
I scrambled around urgently trying to locate some type of clothing. Something that doesn’t make me look suspicious. Black skinny jeans, a torn and faded band t-shirt and of course the trademark black trilby hat. There, now I should pass as a normal kid out at night.
I was just adjusting the angle of my hat as the ‘rap rap rap’ came on the hotel door. I’d been excepting it from as soon as I’d got the message.
I opened the door to my companion. We looked the ultimate odd couple. He was a huge black man, almost 7 foot in height, huge muscles rippling across his massive chest and arms every time he moved, making the spotless white shirt he was wearing seem as if it was going to burst from him at any moment. He was certainly a fellow I would not like to meet in a dark alley. I was thankful he was on my side.
As we sidled through the doors of the hotel, the two familiar figures emerged from the apartments across the street.
She was clutching his arm, the way she always did when they were out. He was wearing that same lopsided grin. The kind that made me want to punch him straight in it, knocking out a few of those gleaming white teeth for good measure. The immediate wave of anger, hate and jealousy set in, a tidal wave, knocking my ability to think straight over and crashing into the side of my head.
“It’s time” Harry, my companion whispered in his surprisingly posh, British accent.
The tidal wave of emotions fizzled out to nothingness as the words entered my head, echoing around in the emptiness.
“We’d agreed on next Tuesday” I argued, my voice coming out as squeaks. I was not ready for this. They could have started me off on something easy.
I noticed for the first time the weapons in Harry’s hands, he thrust one into my unclenched fist and sprinted with surprising agility for a man of his size up to the young couple across the street.
Reluctantly, I followed.
An agonised scream, followed my another scream of terror.
***
The scene replayed in my head as my eyes rested on his dead body.
“I’m sorry” I muttered to the woman looking at me hopefully. She didn’t know I was part of it. She hadn’t seen me, hiding in the shadows, throwing away my weapon. She hadn’t head my scream along as her beloved took her last breath. She only had eyes for him.
Harry was gone, out of sight. I thought he would wait for me, but I was rooted to the ground.
A squeal of wheels as a black shiny car rounded the corner at full speed. The getaway. I was definitely
stranded now.
She’d started sobbing, shuffling over to me, for something to lean on as she clutched her own chest, as if feeling her lover’s pain.
By now, people inside that had heard the screams were gathering outside, many of them in dressing gowns. The first to reach the scene emitted panicked shouts:
“Phone an ambulance!”
“Who did this?!”
“Is he dead?”
The shouts circled my head, clouding my sense of sight and blocking out all other noises.
I found myself putting my arm around her as she sobbed into my t-shirt. Shortly, the whirring of the sirens made contact with my eardrums, softly at first, then suddenly increasing in volume, echoing and deafening me.
“I need to get out of here” The voice was quiet, but I heard her words plainly. She let go of my arm, before squeezing through the huge crowd that had formed around the motionless body and myself.
There was something different tonight, something that made me want to take her up into my arms, even more than ever. Her usual eyeliner and mascara that framed those precious jewels was dripping steadily down her cheeks, contrasting with the soft paleness of her skin.
I longed to hold her, comfort her, but I couldn’t. I’d never be able to. I’ve got to finish the job. That means she can’t know me and I can’t get any more attached than I already am.
She looked up, brushing back the chocolate brown strands of hair that had fallen loose of her ponytail, revealing the true look of horror across her face as tears flooded down her cheeks, dripping and leaving wet stains on her grey tank top.
Those hypnotising eyes connected with mine from my position across the street. As they did, her lips quivered as they silently formed the words “Help me”
I slowly and cautiously approached her, from here it was plain to see exactly why she was crying. At her feet lay a slightly skeletal, yet somehow good looking man, a few years older than her. His skin was an unpleasant grey colour, in places, obscured by the thick, red, sticky substance oozing from his mouth.
His mouth was contorted into a snarl, his dull grey eyes, a twisted vision of pure agony.
His cause of death was quite obvious, even to someone with no medical training whatsoever. A large wooden, splintered pole straight through his chest, right where the heart should have been.
It was like a car crash; I couldn’t help but stare and observe his ghastly wounds.
She turned to me, a pleading expression on his face. She thinks I can bring him back to life. A wave a guilt washed over me, my stomach twisting itself into a series of knots. I could have done something to prevent this. I can still help her. When she finds out she wont let me though.
***
I was almost asleep when it happened. I was jerked out of the momentary realm that doesn’t pass as either reality or a dream by the familiar ‘beep beep beep’ of my phone, stationed, as always, just next to me. ‘They’re on the move’.
The message took a couple of seconds to sink in, as it did, my eyes shot open and I muttered profanity as I became suddenly much more alert then I was just moments before.
This was not good. This wasn’t meant to happen. Why had they changed the plans? They weren’t supposed to go yet. Maybe they knew we were watching them.
I scrambled around urgently trying to locate some type of clothing. Something that doesn’t make me look suspicious. Black skinny jeans, a torn and faded band t-shirt and of course the trademark black trilby hat. There, now I should pass as a normal kid out at night.
I was just adjusting the angle of my hat as the ‘rap rap rap’ came on the hotel door. I’d been excepting it from as soon as I’d got the message.
I opened the door to my companion. We looked the ultimate odd couple. He was a huge black man, almost 7 foot in height, huge muscles rippling across his massive chest and arms every time he moved, making the spotless white shirt he was wearing seem as if it was going to burst from him at any moment. He was certainly a fellow I would not like to meet in a dark alley. I was thankful he was on my side.
As we sidled through the doors of the hotel, the two familiar figures emerged from the apartments across the street.
She was clutching his arm, the way she always did when they were out. He was wearing that same lopsided grin. The kind that made me want to punch him straight in it, knocking out a few of those gleaming white teeth for good measure. The immediate wave of anger, hate and jealousy set in, a tidal wave, knocking my ability to think straight over and crashing into the side of my head.
“It’s time” Harry, my companion whispered in his surprisingly posh, British accent.
The tidal wave of emotions fizzled out to nothingness as the words entered my head, echoing around in the emptiness.
“We’d agreed on next Tuesday” I argued, my voice coming out as squeaks. I was not ready for this. They could have started me off on something easy.
I noticed for the first time the weapons in Harry’s hands, he thrust one into my unclenched fist and sprinted with surprising agility for a man of his size up to the young couple across the street.
Reluctantly, I followed.
An agonised scream, followed my another scream of terror.
***
The scene replayed in my head as my eyes rested on his dead body.
“I’m sorry” I muttered to the woman looking at me hopefully. She didn’t know I was part of it. She hadn’t seen me, hiding in the shadows, throwing away my weapon. She hadn’t head my scream along as her beloved took her last breath. She only had eyes for him.
Harry was gone, out of sight. I thought he would wait for me, but I was rooted to the ground.
A squeal of wheels as a black shiny car rounded the corner at full speed. The getaway. I was definitely
stranded now.
She’d started sobbing, shuffling over to me, for something to lean on as she clutched her own chest, as if feeling her lover’s pain.
By now, people inside that had heard the screams were gathering outside, many of them in dressing gowns. The first to reach the scene emitted panicked shouts:
“Phone an ambulance!”
“Who did this?!”
“Is he dead?”
The shouts circled my head, clouding my sense of sight and blocking out all other noises.
I found myself putting my arm around her as she sobbed into my t-shirt. Shortly, the whirring of the sirens made contact with my eardrums, softly at first, then suddenly increasing in volume, echoing and deafening me.
“I need to get out of here” The voice was quiet, but I heard her words plainly. She let go of my arm, before squeezing through the huge crowd that had formed around the motionless body and myself.