In Trouble

Two

Two

I keep running as fast as my feet would carry me. I’ve decided to abandon the path and try my luck through the thick shrubs that line the park, not so mildly frustrated that there isn’t a single other soul in this area other than me and the man who decided out of the blue that I would be the perfect victim.

Cursing Zach and his grand idea of breaking up with me, because the only logical explanation as to why I ended up in this mess is because of him, I spot a low bridge and a whole lot of rubbish and debris I can try and hide under.

Since I can still hear my stalker’s steps and curses behind me, it becomes painfully obvious that I can’t in fact outrun him.

I leap from behind a small bush and dart downhill towards the place that only seconds ago seemed like a potential safe haven.

For the second time in a very short amount of time, I have been wrong. Very, very, wrong.

A lump forms in my throat and it’s painful to swallow. Three pairs of beady eyes undress me as soon as I’m spotted. It would appear as this is the establishment of three of the finest gentlemen that the world of homeless, drunkyard, junkie squatters has ever seen.

“Come ‘ere love, we won’t bite.” One of them, probably their leader, is fast to speak, the sound of his voice bringing back the blueberry muffin I had for breakfast. 

The other two somehow materialised behind me, essentially trapping me here, forcing me to move closer and closer to the one who spoke. I don’t miss the silver blade the head ogre took from the upside down plastic container they were using as a table.

“I bite, if you’re into that. I still bite if you’re not.” A fourth voice, a younger male, skinny and pale as a ghost but notably missing several teeth that would make his promise impossible to fulfil. Still, I take little reassurance in that.

The feel of a hand grabbing my shoulder causes me to abruptly turn around and come face to face with a disgusting man. He smells, and looks, like he’s been preserved in homemade gin since the Victorian ages. I gulp, finally swallowing that lump in my throat.

The man takes a step towards me and I take a step back, away from him. The other three seem to be fighting over who gets the first turn, not minding the obvious, which is that this guy, he’s taking the first turn. Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.

I did nothing to deserve this! I’ve been a good person. How the heck did I end up here? How did my life spin out of control in only a few hours?

“Take your hand off me.” 

What was intended as a firm command came out as a scared little squeak. 

“Oh, I’m going to have my fun with you alright.” The ogre licks his lips, a foul odour coming out of his mouth as he speaks.

Deciding that I’m going to fight until I draw my last breath, I yank my shoulder from his grip and try my best to kick him in the bollocks. He staggers backwards cursing at me.

“You f*****g b***h! Get ‘er!” He urges the others, who happily comply and stop fighting, resuming their task of casing me in like a hoard of starving predators.

They are heavily intoxicated, most likely from whatever fumes they have been inhalling in various ways, but there are still four of them and only one of me. And if the odds weren’t stacked against me enough, as I dodged from one of them attempting to grab me, I spotted out of the corner of my eye none other than the hooded man that'd been following.

Managing to elude another grubby hand and kick the bastard in the shin, I looked at my stalker again. I doubt he knows I’ve spotted him, but the reality of the grand plan hits me full force, almost enough to give the skinny man the opportunity to push me on the ground.

I avoided falling and quickly take cover behind a shopping trolley filled with junk, continuing the cat and mouse game with these animals. It occurs to me how this was the other guy’s plan all along. He chased me here, and he’ll most likely claim me last, having the honour of also ending my life. A new wave of rage mixed with self-preservation fills me, urging me to grab an old metal box from the cart and aim it at my assailant's head.

The thing turned out to be heavier than I anticipated, and despite struggling to throw it at the guy’s head, when it did hit its mark it caused him to fall on the ground unmoving.

Holy s**t, I just killed someone. Holy s**t! Oh crap! That’s all that’s running in my head at the moment as I watch with wide eyes the limp body.

Pausing for a second too long, I will myself to look around for the other men that are still here. Only that my eyes see two more bodies on the ground, in a similar state to the one in front of me. The only difference is that those two are at the feet of the tall figure that’s been stalking me all afternoon. I take it back, I think he's their leader.

Just when I was about to run, strong hands tug at my clothes, catching a fitsful of my jacket and keeping me on the spot. Feeling like a bunny trapped in front of a hungry wolf, I do the only thing that I can think of, which is to quickly unzip my jacket and shrug it off. By quickly, I mean it takes my shaky fingers a few tries, but once I’m done, I take off running in shock and driven further by the adrenaline pumping in my veins, while the large man I left behind looks at the jacket, slightly confused.