Blood On Your Hands

The guys were happily chilling for the past two hours. I didn’t know how much beers did it take to throw them upside down, but I had the feeling they were heading there.

For the last ten minutes, they’ve been walking in and out of the house, smoking. It was time to put the boring book away and get out of the white duvets. The door banged once again.

„She’s really sleeping?” A muffled yet angry voice roared, which I got to know through these hours belonged to a guy named Matt, although the guys called him Shadows. „It’s only ten!”

„You wouldn’t want her here...” The armchair creaked and somebody opened a beer. Brian was damn right, I could hardly stand myself from time to time, not speaking of overly tattooed and muscular jocks. If I do something I don’t like, for example I’m forced to talk to people, I can get... unpleasant to their ears and eyes.

„I still don’t get, if she hates people, why is she living with you?” If I was correct, that was Zacky. I took the briefcase off the desk, placed it on the bed and opened it. I had to say, it was quite amusing hearing people talk about me.

„She can’t resist my charms.” They clinked bottles, bursting in great laughter. That arrogant son of a gun dragged a smile out of me. It was surprising. My finger slid by the shining surface of the weapon which lied in the briefcase. Desert eagle. Sometimes too powerful and loud for me to use it, but it was a present. And my favorite. As odd as it may sound, my father gave it to me. Without any bad intentions. He’s a collector, and he saw what avid eyes I had looking over his collection when I was little. As soon as I turned eighteen, he gave me this masterpiece, not knowing what was that kept the money flowing in my pocket.

I took the gun, checking if there was no damage from the previous encounter. No, everything seemed fine, the floral pattern was not ruined and seemed it worked perfectly.

„Let’s go to a strip club!” The tallest one, who’s name I managed to forget, shouted. I froze in my place. No, no, no! He could not go to a strip club, not tonight. If somebody asked, he had to say he was at home, and I was in my room, asleep.

„Brian... don’t you do this...” I whispered, locking my eyes on the door in disbelief. Tonight I had a job in Huntington Beach, it was riskier cause I actually lived here. If something happened, I needed him to testify for me, not against. „Goddammit, do at least something right...”

„I don’t know, guys...”

„Gates, you’re refusing naked ladies?” Zacky laughed in amusement.

„Some other time. I’m not in the mood.” Good boy. Corners of my lips raised in a smile as I put a shoulder strap on and placed the gun in the holster.

„I knew it! You’re sleeping with her!” Matt clapped his hands. What? No.

„You slimy bastard, you’re so boning her!” Zacky laughed. That’s it, I didn’t need to hear more. I walked to the window. Sometimes I thought if I ever would grow old of this killing spree, if a person could get too old to press the trigger? No.

I jumped out the window, letting my feet sink into freshly mow green grass. My head turned to look over my shoulder and see the guys laughing hysterically over something. I just hoped they wouldn’t do anything reckless enough for cops to crash the party.

---

This was not how I had planned for it to go. Seeing my whole outfit covered in blood did not amuse me at all. The body lying beside my legs pissed me off. How dared he bleed on my clothes? That slimy pig. Now I had to go for a swim in order to get home without tracking too much attention.

I was standing in a living room of a beach house, biting on my lip angrily. And best of it all, I hadn’t even managed to shoot him. Who would’ve thought an old man had such good ears? I got into bit of a struggle with him, ending with a bloody kitchen knife in my hand. I wanted to make it less painful for him, but look what turned out from my effort. Well I guess that’s what he deserved for selling children.

Were those... sirens? I walked over to the window and looked through the blinds. Instead of silent and clean, I did it loud and messy. Well that will shorten my cut. The police car stopped in the front of the house. Two officers got out of the car and traveled their way to the front door, banging loudly on them.

„Is anyone home?” Seemingly uninterested voice asked. I ducked when one of the police officers moved towards the window with a flashlight in his hands.

„Let’s go, nobody’s there. Tell the lady she’s hallucinating.” I sighed seeing them turn around. Without much thinking, I went for the back-door. Just seconds away from sighing in relief, I saw another cop just outside the glass door, and he was looking at me. That was when the chaos started.

I had no idea what I was doing. The main thought crossing my mind over and over again was to get out of the damned house. They broke down the door, at that time I was already upstairs and jumping over a window sill. I had jumped out of the second floor, wondering how I managed to do it without broken bones. And that was when the ache started. A sprained ankle and a bleeding thigh. I had no time to think how I got myself to bleed. I could’ve been grateful for the distracted cops.

„She went through the window!” I looked up to see a face looking down at me. The rest was blurry, I knew I was running breathless, jumping over fences, landing on an aching leg, I did everything, I moaned, I groaned but I did not cry. Tears were for the weak ones and I wasn’t weak.

I regained my consciousness when I was at home, standing under a cold shower and panting heavily. The bloody clothes were lying on the tiled floor along with the gun. A tiny cut went over my right thigh, it was ridiculous how a tiny wound like that could bleed like hell. My ankle was already starting to bruise.

„That’s going to hurt in the morning...” I threw my hair back, leaning against the shower glass. I’d gotten sloppy, the cops were just inch away from puting me behind bars. God, I was no superman, it surprised me how I had gotten away only with a cut and a sprained ankle. I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft, crimson towel. What to do with clothes? I decided I’ll figure it out in the morning. I placed them in the dirty laundry basket, along with my gun. There was no way Brian would get in my bathroom and he would sure as hell be ignorant towards the dirty laundry.
As soon as I walked in to the dull darkness of my room, I heard a loud knock on my door.

„Elle? You’re in there?” It was Brian’s sleepy voice. What the hell did he want in two am?

Notes