There's a taste in my mouth.
It's familiar, I know I've tasted it before. I know it should mean something but I can't remember what. I can't remember much of anything actually. After I got into the store, everything is a blank.
She'd called me up, telling me that it was important that I stop by her father's shop and talk with the old man. Usually I won't have anything to do with the geezer, but I was feeling sympathetic today and I obliged. I walked in carefree and unsuspecting. Totally unaware of the guy that must have been behind the door.
That was it, blood. This must have been the result of some unknown assault from behind. Probably explains why I feel like crap too. My head hurts.
She was my girlfriend for only a few days. We'd met at a rather crazy part of town during a weeknight. Just the few derelicts and stupid school kids out then, and I was surprised to see her there. Normally you'd think someone like her was the top student, the best in everything. Not someone to be in that part of town. Until I saw the people she was talking to.
My head hurts a lot. Feels kinda like it was punched in with a crowbar. Probably not as bad as it feels, but then again, I can't lift my hands to check it out either. They're not tied . . . but I can't move them. I hope it's not brain damage or anything like that.
She wasn't short, but she wasn't tall. Her hair was dark and it was very thick, with curls and waves which made it seem alive. Her face was white, almost too white, and her lips shone out like blood on snow. Her eyes though were what got me. So dark, so deep. They drew me up to the group, not really paying too much attention to what she was saying, or what they were apparently trying to persuade her to do. Too soon I found myself attracting some rather unwanted male muscles attention. I tried to feign a drunken stupor and push on, but he didn't buy it.
I can feel my hands, I know they're there. I know my feet are there and that nothing else really hurts. But then again, I can't move either. Maybe they've given me a paralytic? Probably. Must be going to wear off soon if I'm awake. Or maybe it doesn't affect consciousness. I've heard of a few that make torture fun for the sadist in charge and hell for the recipient. Knowing the type of people these were, that was most likely the situation I was in now.
He tried to hit me, but I was under his arm and into his space, bracing against his arm and twisting, he went flying. The next one was just as easy. Soon they were coming back for seconds and I ran. She followed.
The right arm wasn't moving, neither was the left. I can't see. Nor can I hear anything. My eyes won't open.
She told me about it then, the problems with the store, the problems with the men in suits. How her father was mixed up in it. Somehow I offered to help.
I can feel my chest rising and falling, I think . . .
The next few days were a blur. We loved each other, I think. I know I was head over heels. Her father was a man of principle, if nothing else and he certainly didn't agree with my attitude towards my life. He didn't like me, nor did he want me to do anything with his daughter. Can't fault him for that.
I think I hear my blood rushing . . .
But still I hung around. We went out, I tried to think of something to help her. It was great for that short time. Then she asked me for help on the phone and I had to go. I had to choice. I was just happy for a chance to see her again.
. . . rushing . . .
She was standing behind the counter, her eyes wide. I saw something red out of the corner of my eye. I think it was familiar. As my eyes registered it and my brain SAW it . . . I heard the movement behind me. Then blackness. But just before that guy clubbed me, I saw her eyes.
. . . into . . . through . . . out?
They were deep, but deep with pain, and sorrow, and too much emotion for anyone to take. I guess the guys had acted faster than we thought. They went for her father, and now the shop was theirs, and so was she.
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