Shattered

My feet took me far, they carried me quicker than before. I had my grey beanie on and classic alley runner clothes. This time, I was empty handed.

I was running for my life.

The trash cans whizzed by me and I ran out into the open street. Midnight still had some excess traffic from the baseball game fans who had drunk away the win that our team scored. People with cigarettes watched the procession as three grey clothed people chased me down the alleys and across busy intersections. No matter how hard or how fast I ran, they were always right behind me. We had been at this for ten minutes. It was a deadly game of tag.

No matter how desperately I wanted to hide in our little base that Wrecks and I shared, they were too close for me to shake off. People were giving us odd looks as I sprinted through traffic into a back alley. I hadn’t been through this part of the city before, at least not excessively. There were too many police cars patrolling out and about, so I had to avoid collecting little trinkets here. Wrecks sometime begged at street corners.

A hand yanked me back hard as I nearly dodged into the alley. I choked and sputtered as they gripped my arms. Spinning around, I kicked him in the knees and pushed into the others. Taking advantage of the lack of light and startling pause, my feet carried me into the unknown alley. A few cars were parked under tiny swaths of light from windows of the apartments.

The distraction didn’t last long. The grey men were coming in hot. The moon watched on, veiled by the usual haze of pollution. Stars weren’t visible to witness my demise tonight. They would’ve probably laughed at me, taunting me that I should’ve listened to Wrecker.

I really should listen to my old man more often.

In my train of thought, I rounded a corner and found myself trapped at a dead end. The wall of bricks loomed above me, making an impassable barrier. The three men knew they had cornered me. My eyes scanned above. Always look for the fire escapes, always look for the above option.

There were no ladders for a quick getaway.

The grey men, faces obscured by the darkness, leapt at me. They must’ve been specially trained. A normal passerby would look and see nothing but shadows. I could’ve been just been an odd trash can’s shadow. These men seemed to see me clearly. I had misjudged them all along. It was another careless mistake on my part.

“Gotcha now, little girl.” One chuckled. My temper flared. I did NOT like being called a little girl! I was nineteen, not ten!

We all lunged at each other at the same time. My kicks landed in someone’s ribs, an elbow hitting the face of a goon in the grey shirts. Even though I had managed to place a few well timed hits and give one a bloody nose, I was pinned down after three minutes of heavy fighting.

A cloth was pressed against my nose, flooding my senses with numbing aromas. I saw a light flicker on above me as my eyes closed.

“Well won’t she fetch a pretty price.” One admired. I struggled to stay afloat on a wave of internal darkness.

“She’s a fighter, I don’t know if the potential buyers will want her, but she does have the looks. Miles will want her.” I felt myself being slung over a shoulder and bouncing along.

“Potential buyers always love a fight.” One slung me down into the back. Something clicked around my neck, but the numbing aromas were taking me under.

I barely heard the van drive away, taking me away from Wrecks, the city, and my old life on the streets.

Notes