Eheheh... I LOVE this chapter! Yous betters enjoy itz! I commandeth you to!

Chapter 7

I started reading the newspaper a while ago. They always talk about this killer they call "Shadow" and it creeps a little part of me out. Maybe that's the ten year old part of me that's still scared... Maybe it's the part of me from a few days ago, the one that had the nightmare.

Either way, I'm surprised Joice hasn't left yet - She goes out and does who knows what while I go out and steal shit from wherever. It's almost as if she enjoys being here with me.

As if. I bet she's just waiting for her chance to kill me. Ah well, the days went on nonetheless.

Today, though, I woke up, and made breakfast as usual. We shared it over the table while Joice read the recent news and I ate about two or three rounds of food before she started laughing. At the first moment, I shrugged it off. She laughs a lot, for reasons unknown. I'll never understand it. After a second or two I got concerned. "What's so funny?" I asked, receiving her usual creepy grin. I am not amused; the newspaper usually has pretty depressing shit in there.

"Oh, nothing."

It is not nothing.

"You're looking at a manhunt." I said, keeping a straight enough face. "How is that funny?" They could be looking for me. They really could be. This is no time for jokes - This could be my last day here. She pauses, like she's thinking. What is there to think about? Did she know who the person was? Was that person close to her? Too many questions; I have too many questions. I wait for her answer quietly.

"This Shaodow person is dead."

...

Huh...?

"You serious?" She froze, and I wondered for a moment why. It didn't seem right. Not... like her. Maybe I'm judging too hard.

"Yes."

Wow... uh... Do I trust her? What'm I supposed to do? I nodded grimly. I'd rather believe he - or she... was dead.

She... I looked Joice over quickly. It wasn't impossible... Joice could be Shadow. She would fit the job. But still, I barely know the girl. I should quit judging.

Later today, we both went out - in different directions. She went to do who knows what again, and I decided I'd go hit a store. It'd calm my nerves a bit, doing what I normally do.

So I do indeed walk into a jewelry store(it's not too full) and stay a while, just taking in the scenery. It'd seem like I was just another window shopper. Walking silently up to the cashier, my hand on my sword. It's been a long time since I've done something like this. Can't wait to see their faces when I tell 'em I was bluffing.

"Hello sir, can I help you?"

I nod and smile, quietly unsheathing my sword from behind the counter. "How many carats is that gold watch?" As she explains, I start sawing through the hinges as quietly as possible. She doesn't notice me, and rambles on. I just keep asking questions and sawing through while she's distracted. The other people haven't noticed. I hear the click soon, and the glass thankfully stays in place. Here comes the next phase.

I look at the wall behind the cashier, staring at it like there's some kind of monster behind her. Eventually she turns, and I place my fingers on the glass in one sharp movement, skidding backwards to let it fall and then swinging my leg over into the stands.

It's like soccer; I kicked the watch over and up to catch it in my left hand. By this time the cashier's turned around, and I bolted it outta there. She'll report me, I'm sure. But just in case... I run back and drop some lame amount of money on the counter and give her a winning smile. I'm sure she'll lessen the impact a bit.

I stuff the watch in my pockets and don't bother putting my sword back - but I really should have sheathed it.

I tripped over something wet, and almost fell over. I felt some of it splatter up onto my sword and my shirt, but turning to the source made me forget about everything else.

It was blood. A guy, not just blood. A dead guy. At first, I would just shrug it off and go, but I turn him over - he's facedown, you see, with my sword. I'm not touching that thing. Again, anway. I think I tripped over him.

The ten year old part of me is crying, crying hard. The man's dead, for sure. His face's twisted in agony, frozen in despair forever. A cigar lay close to his face, the last wisps of smoke floating through the air. And the blood... I mean, I've seen blood, but...

There is a hole. In his chest.

No one deserves to die like that. To get murdered...

I think I'm turning green. I'm not sure. But...

My thoughts are broken by a shout I can't even comprehend anymore. Everything's blurring as someone tackled me from behind. I think I got a picture taken; I can't think straight. This is a bit too much. Reaching my sword is impossible, and I've been handcuffed anyway, so it'd be futile. I can hear myself being dragged into a car or something, and it started moving. I don't need to be out of this daze to know where I'm going.

By the time I wake up I'm in a cell. No trial - no nothing. I don't know how long has passed but there's a guard outside the bars, just kinda standing there. My sword is gone - I can take care of that later. I decide to talk it up with her - It's a blonde, her hair held in a messy low ponytail. Jeez, that's some real bright blonde...

Well it's time to pull a sweet talk on her, yeah?

"Hey..." She turns around, a cap covering most of her face so I can only see a little bit of her nose and eyes. I put on a winning smirk - It's not something I'd do in front of anyone I was actually attracted to, but hey, I'll probably never see her again.

She doesn't say anything back, but smiles a bit.

"Well, I just want to start with the fact that you are a very very pretty woman and I'm sure you'll listen to me, trial or no." I smiled.

"..." Her face is turning a little red, and she moves up the cap so I can see her face.

I think my face is just about as red as my hair, or fire, or something more florid. That was not a girl at all. I'm so embarrassed...

"My name is James. It's not a girl's name. I'm not a girl! ... You don't seem smart enough to be a murderer of that scale..."

I'm already at the back of the cell. "I'm not, and I'm sorry..."

"Move away from him, you bastard." I know this voice. I know it well. It can't be.

The guard - James... is dead. A bullet to his forehead. Damn! I've scrambled to the back of the cell, sticking to the wall until I see a familiar white shirt, stained with blood. "Joice?" I asked quietly; my voice shaking. I'm scared. The ten year old part of me is scared.

"Idiot." She scoffed, "What in hell do you think you're doing? Getting arrested under my persona... Jeez." She started to search through the deceased James' pockets, looking for my keys.

"Your persona?" I blinked once or twice or three times. "Joice, are you insane?" What... "What did you think you were doing, coming here?!" I could hear more guards coming from down the hall. Jeez, Central...

"Saving your sorry ass." Joice sent me a glare that could cut my sword in half. She stood, so I'm guessing James didn't have the keys. She sent ice at me as she pulled her gun from her pocket. "Move, away from the door."

I was too busy staring at it. I swear, she'll shoot me. She just shot that guard didn't she?! I'm dead I'm so dead.

"Do it now!"

A bit startled - no a bit is an understatement - I scurred backwards to the far side. Joice shot the lock off, and the bullet grazed her leg. She didn't seem to notice; instead she stood aside and allowed me to get out, and after she started to leave.

I followed her, watching with wide eyes as she killed guard after guard after guard... Is this really who I'm staying with? What...

What...

The...

Fuck...?

We got home alright, and she dashed upstairs and locked herself in a room. I can't really blame her. I'm not sure if she did that in blind rage or whatever but I just went down to the kitchen to get booze - I know I don't drink often, but after what happened, I think I deserve at least one drink. It's not death if you have one. I would know...

There's spaghetti on the stove... Did Joice make it? That's cute, actually - Huh, cute?! No way, she just murdered like a bajillion - aw, shit.

I sit down on the table with my drink - it's beer again - and chug it down.

I don't know how many mugs I went through before passing out, but I know my last thought - Why do I feel like the guards weren't the only ones watching us in that prison?!