Salt

The Raindrops on the Window

I looked into his eyes. Pleading, shaking. Almost crying.

        But it was all there, it had been staring me in the face the whole time and instead of being smart, I'd fallen more in love every day.

        I'm so stupid, I thought.

        "Liar."

        With that said, I made a dash for outside. Throwing open the front door, his voice was already reverberating against the metal landing. I couldn't take the chance to listen, I knew that if I stopped, I'd be sick.

        I'd made it to the front landing door and, bursting it open with a new sense of urgency, I ignored the shriek of a woman. I was too busy counting the steps I was running. I wouldn't look back, I wouldn't look back. I wouldn't.

        The crackle in my lungs exploded into flames as I could pick up on the obvious noise of his frantic footsteps. Following me, begging me.

        People on the street didn't pave way for me and I crashed and slipped into them more times than I'd care to think. I made them spill their piping hot coffee or the entire contents of their purse. I got splashes on me, but for now, I couldn't process its unyielding warmth.

        My legs were clenching, turning into stalks of iron. Even-tually, they'd pull me down, and soon I'd be back in the arms of a murderer.

        If I could cry without stopping, I would.

        I turned, to see him pushing people out of the way, calling my name still. His face was red, his eyes were puffy, but he was showing no signs of giving up.

        So, I kept going.

       I didn't know where I was heading, I just knew I had to get away. I couldn't falter. Not for a second. No more second guessing. This was it. This was the end.

        My foot scuffed the edge of the sidewalk and I sprawled, my knee bone cracking hard against the concrete. My jaw hit only lightly, but it was enough to initiate stars. Numbness was a few hours way.

        "Ashley!"

        I whipped around in time, just as a bulking figure crashed into the one chasing me. They tussled for a few moments, but no hands were thrown. The voice was familiar; authoritative. It couldn't be...

        "Jesse Irving, face the ground with your hands behind your back." I watched as Mason Gilbert pointed a handgun to the back of my ex's head. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. If you can't afford a lawyer..."

        By now, he was pressing him deep into the ground, as he secured his metal handcuffs. Baby pebbles were resting by Jesse's mouth, praying for a way inside, as we connected eyes for what could be the last time.

        I turned away, massaging my knee instead.

        Leaving a defeated Jesse on the spot, the Chief crouched down in front of me. His features were soft, and blurry, but I figured the latter was in part to my injury.

        "We'll get you to the station, okay? Wait here. I'll get him to the back of my vehicle first."

        Did I nod? I wasn't sure. This entire world was bleeding, and I was clearly too late to put pressure on the wound. Infected with its poison, I was succumbing quicker than I'd care to tell.

        I peeked with my peripheral vision to see Mason hoisting him up. Their feet scuffed, their clothes drooped – and I noticed something I hadn't before.