Vintey
Wanna be artist
"Listen Clarie, we have to do this. He's going to expose us!" Zekes voice flooded her senses.
"I don't want to Zeke, I don't think I can do this again. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt!" She screamed, beating her tiny fists against his broad chest.
"Then stay here." He hissed.
The car door slammed, and his footsteps faded. It felt like an eternity before he came back, dragging something- or someone behind him. She knew what- or rather who it was. The politician who had contacted them to kill his opponent, and later blackmailed them to kill another. Clarie wasn't that desperate for money. She couldn't take another death on her conscious.
She drove for what seemed like hours, her knuckles white against the leather of the steering wheel. The silence between the two was deafening. She tried to talk him out of it, her words falling on deaf ears.
"Pull over."
"This isn't what I meant!" Her raspy voice seemed small against night.
"Then what did you mean, Clarie?" He spun around, blood dripping from his face.
"I.... I didn't want you to kill him.." She pleaded.
The man she had met two years earlier lay limp, bloodied, and mauled behind Zeke. The blood was pooling, congealing around his slender but mutilated body. His icy blue eyes stared into her dark brown ones. The same eyes that haunted her for years.
"I don't want to Zeke, I don't think I can do this again. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt!" She screamed, beating her tiny fists against his broad chest.
"Then stay here." He hissed.
The car door slammed, and his footsteps faded. It felt like an eternity before he came back, dragging something- or someone behind him. She knew what- or rather who it was. The politician who had contacted them to kill his opponent, and later blackmailed them to kill another. Clarie wasn't that desperate for money. She couldn't take another death on her conscious.
She drove for what seemed like hours, her knuckles white against the leather of the steering wheel. The silence between the two was deafening. She tried to talk him out of it, her words falling on deaf ears.
"Pull over."
"This isn't what I meant!" Her raspy voice seemed small against night.
"Then what did you mean, Clarie?" He spun around, blood dripping from his face.
"I.... I didn't want you to kill him.." She pleaded.
The man she had met two years earlier lay limp, bloodied, and mauled behind Zeke. The blood was pooling, congealing around his slender but mutilated body. His icy blue eyes stared into her dark brown ones. The same eyes that haunted her for years.
