What started in Paris

Chapter 1

Chapter One

 Honestly don't know why I was here, here in this freezing airport after midnight huddled in an oversized jacket and reading a German novel while waiting on a delayed flight to a foreign country I had never been to before. Maybe it was noise of home, or the alcohol I'd drank earlier that had stung the back of my throat with an acidic taste.

But I new that no matter what excuses I made they would never drown the truth. The reason for my shaking hands and aching heart. A man who was about to get one big surprise when I showed up on his doorstep sometime during the next day. I knew that I was foolish for making this trip. I had broken his heart after all.

A toddlers tired cry echoed in the small terminal as an equally tired looking mother carried him on her slim hip, her assumed husband trailing beside her looking over a crinkled map. An elderly man snoozed in the corner and I could see the lights of my flight finally arriving and followed the shuffling small crowd to the check in counter with tickets in hand. 

My backpack was too heavy, the wind too cold as we climbed single file down the stairs and onto the tarmac to manually climb up the stairs to the small thirty passenger plane. Yellow lights shone around the airport, shadowing the night sky as my heart thumped, making me feel as if I was chocking. This was it, this was when I was finally going to leave this small seaside town.

There is something so beautiful about a night flight when you're so many thousands of feet above land and can see the lights of the city bleeding through in uniform shapes until bleeding into darkness where the black water lay hidden from view. The sea so familiar I could recall the sound and the feel of the salt spray on my face without a second thought. Up here at night you couldn't tell exactly how high you where, but sitting there with my forehead pressed against the cool, thick glass to calm myself, the moon seemed so much closer.

Hours later and under the buring early morning sun I stepped foot onto land once again and was alone in a foreign country, feeling out of place and nauseous, but I have to admit that even though I've never been one to love Paris, it truly was beautiful in the winter. The ornate lamp posts covered in a new layer of snow, the frozen ice sickles accumulating on the many fountains and the wrought iron fences.

Once I had made my way through the clattering airport and far out into the depths of the city a loud screech of tires sliding on ice pulled me from my concerning thoughts. My chest lurched in anxiety as a bulky black Escalade rounded the corner in a too wide turn, gaining control at the last second before picking back up speed and passing me by. The speed sent air blowing my hair back and left the smell off gasoline behind. I pursed my lips in annyance but adgusted the strap on my backpack and kept walking, uncertain of if I was going in the correct direction.  Another loud screech echoes in the distance and when I look behind me I catch a glance of that same speeding Escalade before it disappears out of sight again.

'Getting a little out of hand, don't you think?' I say under my breath, eyeing a bench on the other side street that looked painfully tempting though I was entering what appeared to be the bad part of town; not a good place for a young woman armed only with a backpack and a hardback book that had been reread so my times the loopy gold lettering had mostly faded away.

I finally decided to stop just for a moment, to give my arms a break and to finally get my bearings. I had directions to his flat so if I could find a street sighn I should be able to get my bearings. But as I was hurridly crossing the street a man ran into my shoulder in his haste, his copper hair half hidden beneath a messenger cap; too busy glancing behind him to notice me fumbling for my footing.  I stood stock still waiting for him to pass but knowing something was wrong as heavy car doors slammed somewhere close by. Running footsteps rapidly approached us until a unnervingly tall young man halted at the entrance of the same alley the man had ran from. His broad chest heaving as he yelled for the other to stop.

"Give it up already!" his voice echoed, as he fumbled for the bulky the gun at his hip, half hidden by a heavy black jacket.

I swallowed hard and cursed myself for ever walking into this situation, knowing that I was in a very bad position, being between the two and standing in the middle of the street for crying out loud. Stiffening as I watched helplessly as the first young man turned, with his own gun raised; trying to stay completely still and hoping, god I don't know, that they only sensed movement and if I waited long enough I could slip away unnoticed.

But I was painfully wrong; watching with a sinking heart as the copper headed man glanced frantically around for an escape route, cursing loudly and almost lowering his gun, until his eyes land on me and he trains his gun squarely on my chest....