Walking the cold streets of midnight to escape my feelings is not my cup of tea. I hate the cold. I hate the darkness. My feet pound the sidewalk, as these six inch heels I am wearing seem to tap out Morse code. Signals that I am getting closer to doing what I have wanted to do most of my life. Not sure of whom I am trying to warn. Each breathe I take sends out another kind of signal, as his cologne is brought back into my nostrils. Love, lust, the hatred tainted with memories of his presence.
God, how I wanted him gone from my life, and I would almost do anything. I pull my overcoat in tight around my neck, as chills run up and down my back. Could he be lurking around corners, and in the city's dark doorways? Paranoia has me walking even faster. A danger was present. Am I taking the wrong step towards disaster? I had a goal. The goal was to see this thing through. My car was not that far now, and I would be entering its warmth; it was the kind of warmth that would still sting with its chill, but would be a protection from the night.
Walking down late night streets was not something I like to do, but had become a way of life. I began to hear footsteps behind me. Could it be him, or her, his mistress? That bitch that would not leave me alone; his weapon he now used against me. Drinks with friends had reassured me that I was in no danger, but they did not understand how obsessed he had become. He wanted me, but yet he would not let go of her. The cold is getting to me, I thought. A light mist was coming towards me just ahead. Only moments, and I would safe.
The footsteps behind me grew louder. My heels only tapped louder as I began to run, fumbling with my keys, and then I saw the blue Mercedes. I can make it; it was just a few more feet. I get the alarm key ready just in case, but there is no need as I am safely inside the driver’s seat. The cool night mixed with my heated breathe has begun to fog up the windows, as I try and look outside, and around the car. Yes, the engine is started, but a shadow now over loams my mirror. He has found me once again. I wanted so badly to escape him. Damn his charm, his willingness to say anything to draw you into his world.
Reaching quickly into my purse I find the gun. The shiny new thirty-eight is loaded and ready if he tries. I feel the car begin to shake as I point the gun at the shadow. The rocking is making me so unsure of pulling the trigger, and then it stops.
Red begins to spill over the dashboard turning the darkness into a crimson scene of passion...