Hideout

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

Safe. Finally.

She panted quietly in the dark corner, mind a whirlpool of swirling images dragging her under.

Driving. Escaping. Crashing. Raining. Shouting.
A familiar voice. Her killer.

Running. Slipping. Falling. Crawling. Crying.
Footsteps thundering past. Looking. For her.

His words, echoing in her head.

“Stay safe. I’ll come find you. I love you”

She knew it wouldn’t happen. He was dead.
What did she expect, falling in love with a mob boss?

Footsteps. Quiet. Stealthy. Creeping. Creaking.
They found her. She was dead.

She got up. Head high. Walked outside.
Let them kill her. She’d be with him.