Page 74 of One
My back hurts when it hits the hard surface, and my eyes squeeze shut against the pain for a second. A guy is in front of me. He’s wearing a ball cap and a long dark coat—a size too big. Fuck! He’s the same guy who tried to rob the convenience store and trashed the morgue.
His mouth is stretched into a long angry line. His eyes are hidden by the cap’s visor, but I can clearly see the knife he’s holding in his hand. He’s keeping a foot between us, just enough for the blade to sink inside my chest if I attempt a move. My hands are up in surrender, and I’m trembling like a leaf in the breeze.
“Finally alone, Doctor.” He spits out my title. His breath smells heavily of whiskey, but he doesn’t look drunk.
I’m close to peeing myself, but I try to think clearly. This guy knows who I am. He keeps coming after me. He wants something from me. So, until he gets it, heprobablywon’t kill me.
“W-what is it that you want?” My voice is lower than I expected, but I don’t even know how I’m still standing at the moment.
“The ring,” he barks.
“Ring?” I ask, confused.
“My uncle’s damn ring!” Spit flies from his mouth to my cheek as he keeps yelling at me, the hand holding the knife trembling dangerously. “The one you have inside that fucking safe at the morgue.”
“I don’t…” I try to make sense of what he’s talking about, but it’s very hard to think when your life is being threatened.
“Frank Coleman. He died at the hospital last week. His personal effects are still at the morgue because his idiot son is coming back from Africa.”
“Can’t you wait for his return?” I stupidly blurt out.
He grabs the front of my shirt and slams me against the wall again. My head hits the brick this time, and pain explodes behind my eyes.
“That’s exactly what I don’t want, you idiot. That fucking ring is worth a fortune, and I want it. I deserve it. I’m his nephew and need to get something as well,” he snarls, pushing the sharp point of the blade right over my heart.
Raph. His face pops in front of my eyes. I should have let him know I was going out; I should have kissed him, hugged him, told him once again how much I love him.
I swallow hard all my regret, while trying to find a way to calm the man down or stall. But nothing comes to mind.
“We are going to the morgue together, and you will give me that ring. Otherwise, I’ll cut your other fingers,” he hisses.
“Other fingers?” My quivering voice is dripping with fear.
A frightening smirk appears slowly on his lips, curling them in an evil grin. And that’s when he tilts his head and looks straight at me. His pupils are blown suggesting exposure to some kind of chemical or drug. There’s a maniacal glint in his cold, empty eyes. Broken images from my past suddenly assault my brain, and for a second, I’m overwhelmed by echoes of pain, hopelessness, terror, and horror.
“Give me your hand.” His demanding voice takes me back to the dark alley, to the stench of rotten food and the honking cars in the distance. I’m panting, my head pulses, and I feel the need to scream.
But I only breathe out, “No.”
I fist both hands and get ready to fight. I fucking work with my hands and I won’t let him take that away from me. So much has been taken already. My childhood. Raph. My self-love. No more.
Anger suddenly spreads inside me, and I’m about to do something really stupid when I hear Rague’s unmistakable gruff voice.
“And what do we have here?”
We both snap our heads his way. He’s walking slowly toward us. His wide shoulders and massive, muscular body obscure the light from the alley opening.
“None of your business. Go away!” The guy’s words are cocky, but I can feel the sudden tension in the hand he’s tightening around my shirt. God, how much I want to push him away and… hurt him.
“Don’t like to be told what to do,” Rague responds with menacing indifference, moving closer.
I’m abruptly yanked forward, the guy’s arm locked around my neck, and I can feel the blade digging behind my back, through the leather jacket.
“Back away or I’ll kill him!” he yells near my ear.
I’m facing Rague now. I can’t see his face well, but I can feel his eyes on me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he utters in a casual tone, stopping a few feet from us.
