Page 5 of One of Them

In seconds, I grabbed the gun he pulled, the handle warm from his touch. In a reverse move I didn’t know I was capable of, I pointed the tip at him. The old man never saw me coming. His underestimation was my advantage.

Fingers wrapped around the metal, I factored in the gun’s weight, making sure my breath was steady. In a blink, I was transported back to the house, imagining myself in the very spot my mother stood. The gray walls of the gym suddenly turned yellow.

I remembered Mom picking the color, insisting the sun should be visible from even the darkest corners. The memory of paintbrushes and smudges that took ages to scrub off my fingers granted me the last bit of strength I lacked. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The fallback from the shot didn’t faze me. Hours spent at the gun range had ensured that.

The man fell to his knees before crumpling to the floor, his body outstretched on the mat. A trail of blood gushed from the hole between his eyes, sliding down his forehead, and I followed the movement until thedrop disappeared down his neck. Blood spots formed on the collar of his shirt, staining the white linen.

How strange, I thought, to witness life leave his body and see his vacant eyes locked on mine. Who was he? What sort of life had he led? Did I just turn someone into a widow? An orphan, like me?

He stared, long gone, but beyond the emptiness hid a look of shock. He spent his last seconds staring at his executioner.

A little girl. A useless woman. A weakling.I’ve made peace with the perceptions that followed me. Has he made peace with death? Accepted the higher probability that comes with the lifestyle?

Strong arms snatched me by the shoulders, snapping me out of the trance. Eyes narrowing at the intruder, I hissed the best response I could manage, then swatted his hands away.

I couldn’t recall a time when someone had touched me without my notice.

“We need to get out of here. My guys will handle the rest,” he said, his tone blunt. Before I could reply, I was shoved out the door and into the SUV parked outside.

Despite the season, the air inside the car was surprisingly warm. The leather-covered seats invited me to touch the soothing texture, and I did, drawing circles under my knees, enjoying the comfort it brought. A driver’s license wasn’t high on the priority list. The handful of instances I’ve spent in a vehicle were in single digits. Still, I wished to experience the freedom.

Aware of the lack of shaking or any reaction that would signify what transpired, I stared ahead, far too calmly. I killed a man. A dangerous individual. But was he?

“Who were they?” I addressed the stranger beside me for the very first time.

“She speaks.” He chuckled, his accent catching my attention, the melodic sound strangely familiar.

“Yeah. I just asked you a question,” I yelled back, my voice rising an octave with every word.

“They were there to cause trouble. You possibly just saved my life.” With his hand on the wheel, he turned to the passenger’s seat, looking me dead in the eye. “The better question is: who are you?”

His gaze called to me, but I ignored the intensity and faced the window instead. My shoulders slumped at the untrue words about to leave my mouth. “No one.”

“Right.” He scoffed, not buying it.

“Who do you run with?” he asked casually, as though no one could be without an association. To his credit, it was unusual in this city. You were at least a low-ranked somebody.

“Nobody,” I repeated, louder this time.

He shot me a sharp look. “You do now.”

His words didn’t sit well with me, alarm bells sounding in my mind. “I don’t think so. Did you not hear me?”

I knew I was pushing it, but there was something about his tone that made me dig my heels in.

He refused to budge. “I did. But you just saved my life. And that comes with consequences.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d do just fine. I’ve seen you fight.” Far too many times.

“Probably,” he smirked. “But you’ve got skills I’m interested in. And what you just did? In my world, people get rewarded for that shit.”

“I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re offering.”

His gaze didn’t waver, shifting between the streets and me in the passenger seat. “At least hear me out. You might wanna lie low until my guys clean up the mess.”

---