Chances

‘It was such a bright idea’, I thought, as I walked quickly down the street. I shuffled the bags in my hands, pulling my jacket tighter to keep out the wind. The weather was supposed to warm up soon after a cold bleak winter, I was ready to see the sun. It was very dark, as I almost stumbled on a raised piece of broken concrete, the small vials in bag clinking as I steadied myself.

Mrs. Westcott had been adamant that I stayed just a bit longer. I was sold the moment she brought out a tray of her freshly baked lemon squares and hibiscus tea. It was a pleasant evening no doubt, but as they say, the consequences eventually catch up.

I can’t blame the lemon squares entirely either. My job as a personal chef kept me late most days. Cooking from breakfast to dinner took a lot of time to prep, not to mention having to keep in mind different allergy restrictions.

I was jolted out of my thoughts, hearing rapid footsteps behind me. I turned around just in time to see a wiry man sprint around the corner, almost slipping on the wet pavement. He was thin, pupils blown wide on something perhaps, as he ran right towards me: no doubt a junkie.

Not far behind him were two more men, running after him looking disheveled: ties loosened, the top few buttons of their shirts undone, and vests. One had wavy brown hair, with sharp blue eyes, slight stubble, and a nasty scar from the corner of his lips, stretching to his cheek. The other, had hazel eyes, dark raven hair, and a chiseled face with a scar down his right eye.

I moved back trying to get out of the way, but the junkie grabbed my arm, pulling me in front of him as a barrier. I tried to yank my arm back but stopped suddenly feeling the cold thin knife press at my throat. This was a precarious situation yet, I was left befuddled, my brain was not reacting to the danger I was in.

The two men slowed their approach, and why not, to make matters worse, they pulled their own weapons from inside their coats. They pointed it towards the junkie, but they didn’t fire, of course I was in the way, a casualty not by choice. The first guy spoke in a heavy accent, the language unknown to me. Whatever was said, it only made the junkie all the more desperate to escape, the knife pressing even closer to my skin.

The junkie and the men kept exchanging words, their tones getting all the more hostile and louder. I tried to think of what I could do, my options severely limited. I didn’t have anything on me that was sharp, but a pen would suffice.

I moved my hand very slowly towards the sling bag at my front. My fingers found the zipper and opened it very slowly. I found the pen, using my thumb to flick off the cap as I grasped it tightly in my palm. I steadied my breath and jammed it back as hard as I could.

The pen hit its mark in the junkie’s side as he cried in pain, losing his knife at my throat as his hands went to the wound. I took the opportunity and moved away quickly from him. He turned, reaching out to again towards me, eyes seething with anger. The shots rang out in succession, the sound suppressed, as the junkie fell, blood started to bloom from his back.

My eyes flicked to the two men, their gun’s barrel dissipating the last wisp of smoke. My heart pounded inside, my eyes meeting theirs for a brief moment. I took a step back before I turned and ran in a full sprint not stopping to look back at all. I wanted no part of in the aftermath of that encounter.

I made it to my apartment building, lungs on fire, blood pounding, and my body threatening to give out right there. I pushed forward, hands shaking as I opened the door walking inside, and locking it behind me.

I sighed, relieved and finally able to breathe as I slumped down to the floor. The cool tiles were a welcoming change to my burning face as my heart finally began to slow down. Time passed a little too quickly as I lay there before finding the will to move. I stood up, tossing my bags on the couch, and abandoned my jacket on an armchair.

The next few hours were a blur of autonomous motion. I changed after a hot shower into some ducky pajamas and headed to the kitchen to eat dinner. I sat in front of the oven, watching the frozen pizza cook as I ate ice cream straight from the tub. The pizza seemed to disappear within thirty minutes. Just long enough for me to crash on the couch and black out for the rest of the night.