Prompt: “I’ve got to get out of these clothes—fast.”

From Writer’s Digest; the prompt is to begin a 750 word entry with, “I’ve got to get out of these clothes—fast.” This is what I came up with!

 “I’ve got to get out of these clothes—fast.”

“Then do it!” I hissed before turning away and peering through the dark of the alley. My heart slammed itself against my chest erratically; every muscle tensed and skin crawling with goosebumps. The pistol I held bounced back and forth between my hands restlessly.

This was bad. We were going to be caught, thrown in jail, then raped and murdered by the inmates. I wouldn’t survive behind bars. I don’t have the strength or patience for being locked up. I can hardly stand for water to boil – the very reason why I whipped back to June and snarled at her; “If you don’t hurry up, I’m leaving you here!”

I didn’t mean a word and she knew that. “Breathe, Ian! Everything’s fine, I promise. No one heard or saw us.”

Her placating voice only irritated me. It was tempting to slam the butt of the pistol over her head to coerce a more panicked reaction from her. How June was this calm, I don’t know. The blood stained clothes she ripped from her body and dropped in the barrel were a relief to see burn with the rest of the trash. Less evidence linked to us – or rather, June – the better. This whole thing was her idea to begin with.

“Give me the gun,” June whispered, somehow not shivering in her lack of clothes with the freezing wind whipping down the alley. Reluctantly, I handed it over. My girlfriend proceeded with nimble fingers to remove any possible trace of fingerprints.

I wanted to hug her, tell how much this terrified me, but I’m supposed to the man here. I’m supposed to be the one keeping their head together and instead, I’m following her orders like a lost puppy. What have I gotten myself into? All I wanted was to be with her, to love her and take care of her for the rest of my life. While that is still possible, more so now than previously; we had to have a murder on our consciouses before it could happen.

Murder. I can’t handle this.

“Ian. Ian.

It took me a moment to realize that she had repeated my name a couple of times before I acknowledged her. Those gorgeous blue eyes held worry and searched my face for answers to her silent questions. Time had escaped me, because now June was dressed in her spare clothes; gun and gloves disappeared as well as anything that could possibly link us to the murder of Lionel Kings. I expected my hand to be shaking when I raised it to cup her cheek, but it wasn’t – maybe I can handle this.

That thought didn’t keep me from saying; “We shouldn’t have done this, June.”

“It was the only way!” she countered, her voice just as low as mine but full of conviction. “Kings’ gang never would’ve let me go and you know that. This is the only way for us to be together.”

June lifted herself to kiss me, her hands braced on my shoulders and those full lips drew me in as they always did. My hand slid from her cheek through her dark hair, the other wrapped around her waist and I focused on her, trying to forget the horrid crime we had committed. The body we had to drag, the blood that trailed behind it and the rats that covered it the second it hit the bottom of the ditch. My stomach turned and the kiss broke, leaving June watching me with concern.

“Quit looking at me like that,” I said and brushed aside her bangs to place a kiss at her hairline. “I’m fine if you’re fine. Now let’s go catch our plane.”

But we’d never make it to the plane.

“Hey!”

Both of us spun around to see three silhouettes at the mouth of the alley. My heart picked up a whole new pace and I shoved June to the opposite end of the alley. “Go, June! Go!”

We ran. Our footsteps pounded against the pavements, our ragged breathing echoed off the walls and blended with the freezing cold wind. The black clouds split open to pour bitter rain, instantly soaking us from head to toe. I kept my hand at the small of her back, compelling her to move faster and as a last ditch effort, I prayed to a god I didn’t believe in.

Gunshots sounded, merging with the thunder that boomed and I was falling, falling, falling.

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