Becoming His Assassin

10 - Spiraling

Dallas

    After signing all of the necessary papers for my discharge from the marines, I left the base for the last time like a bat out of hell.  Of course, my signature was not written in as good of penmanship as usual, because I couldn't stop myself from trembling with rage.

    I had so many plans for me and Marcy, but now I had no plan other than getting as far away from her as possible.  Marcy and Joel’s betrayal hurt me in ways I never thought possible.  I had always been a strong guy both physically and mentally, but this was too much for even me to handle.

    Devastated and heartbroken, I left Texas for the last time with no intention to ever return.  Joel still had two years before his second term of four years was done, so I didn’t have to worry about him returning to our hometown any time soon. 

    Knowing that made it a lot easier for me to choose Utah as my next destination.  I had not seen my parents in a few years, because I was a fool and chose to spend my time with that cheating b***h, so they would be my first stop when I pulled into town.

    I drove from Houston, Texas to Las Cruses, New Mexico, only stopping a few times to fill up the gas tank.  However, I was so exhausted by the time I reached New Mexico, I couldn’t drive any farther, so I stopped at the first hotel I saw and booked a room with one bed.

    As soon as I got into the room, I fell face-down on the bed and immediately crashed.  That’s how exhausted I was between traveling back to the states from overseas, dealing with my ex’s betrayal, and driving from Texas.

    I was used to running on a limited amount of sleep, causing me to wake up around four in the morning.  Unable to fall back asleep, I dragged my depressed butt out of bed and took a quick shower, then I checked out of the hotel and got back on the road.

    Not long after I crossed the border into Arizona, I had to make another stop to fill up the gas tank.  As usual, I kept my eyes and ears at full attention, watching everything that was happening around me.

    When I first pulled up to the pump, I watched a woman with olive colored skin get out of an old hoopty.  It was obvious she had recently been crying, because of the way her eyelids were swollen and red.  Not to mention the streaks left behind by her recent tears.

    I had always been a softie when it came to women crying, and that day was no different.  Since I had to pay for my gas before I could pump it, I followed the woman into the gas station, then I walked back to the coolers and grabbed a few bottles of water.

    On my way to the counter, I noticed the woman was looking at the scarves and shawls hanging on a nearby rack.  That’s also when I noticed how shifty she was acting.  Every few seconds, she would peek up through lowered lashes and nervously look around, then she would go back to admiring the shawls.

    I got the distinct feeling that she was in some kind of trouble, and I didn’t think it was the criminal kind.  I came to that conclusion when I saw the healing bruises that circle her upper arm.  When my eyes focused on the bruising, I could tell it was put there by somebody’s hand.

    My protective nature led to me taking my time leaving the store and pumping the gas.  I put it on the slowest setting, then I pulled my sunglasses down, so the woman wouldn’t see me eyeing her.

    When she returned to the gas pump, she nervously glanced around before going through the motions to fill up her gas tank.  She set the nozzle to pump on it’s own, then she pulled a light brown, almost see-through shawl out of her bag and wrapped it around the bottom section of her face and around her head.

    While watching the pretty lady, I couldn’t help but to admire her beautiful, light green eyes.  Despite being dulled and full of sadness, they were hands down the most stunning set of eyes I had ever seen.

    I finished pumping my gas before she did, so I took my sweet time putting the nozzle up and closing the gas cap.  As I reached for the handle on the driver’s door, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

    Right away, I whipped my head around just in time to see a man with dark brown hair grab the woman’s arm, then he started dragging her away from the car, as she screamed for help.  On instinct, I leaped over the hood of my car and sprinted toward them.

    The jackass had his back to me, making it incredibly easy to land a jumping side kick against the fool’s head.  Instantly, he released the woman’s arm and went crashing to the pavement below, revealing I had knocked him completely unconscious.

    Feeling a bit panicked, I rushed to help the woman to her feet, then I ran with her to the red hoopty and insisted she get in the car.  While she did so, I removed the nozzle and closed her gas cap, then I banged on the trunk and yelled, “Get out of here before he regains consciousness!”

    She was quick to start the engine and pull away from the pump, while shouting out the window, “Thank you so much, kind sir!”

    I don’t know what it was about that woman’s sweet voice, but something about it pulled at my frayed heart strings.  She pulled out of the gas station and squealed tires, as she romped on the gas, and I was left wondering who she was and why that man was trying to forcibly take her.

    After debating whether I should wait for the guy to wake up and ask him for those answers, I decided it was silly of me to think any more about it.  I didn’t know anything about that woman.  For all I knew, she could have been some kind of freak serial killer, and I didn’t need to be getting mixed up with any women at that point in my time anyway.