Three knocks reverberated through the house, shaking my soul's foundation. I'd slept fitfully. I dreamt of things that would no longer be, My wedding, my graduation, My life. I shuddered, trapped in the cold cocoon of my thoughts. My eyes flicked to my clock, 3 am. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his prepared kit. His eyes fell to the window as a disembodied voice filled the area.
"Aaron, please exit the house before we are forced to open it" Said the static laden voice. I opened the window and flicked open the curtains just slightly. It was clear. I caught the rear of the police car. No, van. Armed Response was proudly emblazoned on the back.
Shit
"Jump" Urged the voice calmly, as if this was something he dealt with every day. Opened the window, every creak sounding like loudspeaker feedback in the still of the night. My breathing came fast and shallow, my wild eyes scanning the area like a wolf searching for prey. I swung a leg over the sill, my mouth dry, expecting to hear the crack of gunfire each and every second. It never happened. I dropped, it felt like an age, like reliving my whole life. Every little misdeed and bad word I'd ever inflicted came back to me. I hit the ground with a grace I never thought I had. I looked up. I saw the policeman turn, I ran for him, praying with all my might I'd hit home. I slammed into the poor man. I flew gracelessly for a moment before collapsing lifelessly on the gritty pavement.
For a moment I stood, flush with victory. Then my elation stumbled. Was he dead? My eyes went wide and I rushed to his side, then illuminated by the failing orange light of street lamps, I saw his chest rise and fall slightly. I sighed; a tear of relief falling from my blood shot eyes, all the emotion of these past weeks in a single action. I brought the man inside and checked him over. I took his badge and gun. Hey, he wouldn't need it. I grabbed a bottle of sleeper pills from a medicine cabinet and grabbed a handful. I pushed them into his mouth and watched them sit there.
"Swallow, Damn you" I muttered lightly, pouring water into his mouth. I tried to manipulate his throat as he coughed unconsciously. Finally he swallowed the wash of water and red and white falling into his neck. I sighed, before looking outside.
Shit, had someone seen me?
I looked outside, for a moment, nothing happened. And then to my great relief nothing continued to happen.
I looked him over one more time, before stealing his keys. I walked outside, trying to be inconspicuous. Oh god, as if that was going to happen. I slammed shut the door and turned the key in the ignition. It spluttered and coughed into life. I buiried my foot in the carpet and was jerked back in the seat. I flicked various switches before the lights and sirens activated. I headed towards Shakers Row.
I laughed slightly, a nervous sound, filling the cabin. It turned into a cough slowly. I brought my hand away, there was a film on my hand. Blood. That turned my gut. Something was wrong. I looked up for a moment, only to see Malins Woods loom in the distance.
"What the f-" I began to swear, but the wheel caught a rut and catapulted the van through the night air. My face drained as the windshield shattered.
I awoke after a brief moment to the flicker orange glow of dancing firelight and the sounds of tortured metal screeching. I let the image from my eyes focus. I clenched my hands and feet. My whole body ached horribly but everything seemed in working order. I staggered from the twisted wreckage, miraculously unharmed. I wandered vaguely towards the lights of the town before the voice interrupted me
"Don't Follow The Road" It whispered conspiratorially. I shuddered but did as I was bid. After a while that stretched for eternity, like the cold night, day began to break over Hescombe. A lazy fog seemed to stretch over the landscape like a phantom sea, lapping over the shores of the city. I stalked the dawn, reaching 5 Shaker Road just as the pretty orange and purple clouds vacated the skies to be replaced by the omnipresent grey clouds of late autumn.
I climbed through an open window, expecting at any moment to be confronted by a dog, or mother. I slipped through into Connie's bedroom like a ghost, locking the door behind me, fumbling with the catch, my hands numb with equal parts cold, and fear.
He drew the curtains and picked up Connie's alarm clock. It was 5:23. He set the alarm for 5:30, set it back on the table and composed a note on her table, writing with a pink gel pen on crisp white paper from her notepad. Had I not been so terrified, It would've seemed ludicrous.
Dear Connie
It's me, I'm fairly sure you can figure out who me is but hey, It's Aaron.
I need to see you Right Now.
I paused momentarily before doubling back and underlining the last two words
I'm outside your window. Don't scream, please. I've already done enough bad shit today. So yeah. Just, come out and talk to me, that's all I ask. After that do what you want.
I looked back at the clock, precious seconds ticking away. I quickly signed my name with a flourish before leaving the room near untouched. Satisfied I dropped from the window for the second time.
I waited, I watched.
