In his hands I feel like shit,
Every word he says is just a verbal hit,
But I still feel that love,
Even with every mental shove.
-The Ex
The metal was still cold against my back as I entered the antique store. An obnoxious bell rang out to announce my arrival. "Hello," a cheerful, middle-aged, plump woman stepped out from behind a shelf filled with dusty books. "What can I help you find today."
"My grandmother sent me out to find a good working grandfather clock. I haven't had much luck anywhere else so far. I was hoping you have some here that I could take a look at." The lie slid gently from my lips, almost making me believe the pre-planned story I was presenting.
"Oh, we have a few attractive ones towards the back of the store. I can show you them now if you'd like." A sweet, grandmotherly smile was displayed across her wrinkled, leather-like face.
"That would be great," I forced a convincing smile to match hers, "you said they were towards the back of the store?"
"Yes, it might be a bit of a challenge getting to them through this maze of antiques." A warm chuckle filled the air. "Let's see if we can get to them from this way."
She passed between two well worn, hard wood tables. The polish that seemed to have once been smooth to the touch, was now roughed up from years of use. I watched as the store woman tried to hobbled around a bird bath that came to her waist. Her hip collided with the chipped edge, making it wobble dangerously. She let a startled gasp escape your throat, "That was a close one," she giggled nervously then continued on her way through the clutter.
After skillfully making our way around couches, book shelves, picture frames with no glass, painted plates, world globes, broken bikes, dressers missing several drawers, signs for businesses so old no one probably remembered them, and several more extremely old objects, she finally brought me before three dark wood grandfather clocks. They towered above us against the back wall of the store.
"Here they are," she puffed proudly, "they might need a little bit of work. But they should be working in no time."
I closed my eyes, summoning the adrenaline I would need in the next few minutes. The scene that took place only moments before I had entered the store played across the back of my eyelids. "You'll need this," I was handed a Ruger Mark II .22 semi automatic pistol, "it has a silencer so it shouldn't draw too much attention. At least not until you're away from the site."
The cold metal sent deep chills through out my body. "Did you find out what will get her to the back of the store?" I asked calmly, sliding the pistol between the waist of my pants and the small of my back.
"There are grandfather clocks against the back wall, ask to see them and she'll be right where you need her."
"Is everything alright?" An elderly voice cut through the memory like a hot knife cuts through butter.
My eyelids flew open, "Yes, I was just trying to think of which one my grandmother would like most." I managed to keep my voice calm as my heart pounded desperately inside my chest. "Could you show me the clock works? I've replaced parts with simple watches and clocks before, I'm just interested in what these clocks have."
"Oh course," she enthusiastically turned her undivided attention to opening up the face of the clock to expose the innards.
With her back turned, I retrieved the gun from its hiding place. Raising it to aim at the back of her head, I prepaired my self for the final step.
"Grammy!" The source of the cheerful, innocent voice was followed by the young child before I had time to conciel the gun.
The old woman turned to embrace her grandchild but froze when she saw the gun aimed at her. "Why?" Was the only thing she could choke out. The young girl, only about three years of age, stopped in her tracks, startled to see a weapon pointed towards the elderly woman she loved so much. I glanced between the two of them, debating on what to do next. "Amber, would you step outside just for a moment while I speek with this young lady?" She spoke to the child without moving.
Amber slowly started to back away towards the enterance, "No," I tried to say calmly, but it came out as a shout. "She can't leave."
"You can't do this in front of her, please let her go." She made a move towards the little girl.
"Don't move." I shouted once more, "Put your hands up."
"Please," the woman begged, "let her go. I don't want her to see this."
"I can go get daddy to help you." Amber spoke quietly as she turned to find her father.
"Don't move." I shouted at her desperately, aiming the gun towards her now.
"She's just a child, she doesn't understand." The grandmother made a protective move towards the gun I was holding. "Please just let her go."
"No." I insisted, "She'll tell someone." With out notice, the young toddler turned and ran towards the front doors. "Stop." I yelled after her, following her small form with the gun. When she didn't listen, I went numb as I realized what I had to do. With out a second thought, I made sure she was in aim and then I fired. The small running form stumbled, then fell to the ground. Girgling was heard as she choked on her own blood.
A strangled cry struggled free from the grandmothers mouth, she muffled a sob as I turned the gun on her. "I didn't want to do that, but you have to understand, I had no choice."
Her voice was coated with hatred as she said, "You don't have to do any of this."
"Yes I do," I yelled, "you don't understand." I pulled the trigger, filled with fear, anger, and shock. I watched as her body crumpled to the floor and the life drained from her once warm, caring eyes. The room then began to spin around me, making it difficult to find my way to the front of the store. I nocked over several antique belongings, not being able to see what was in front of me. The only thing I could see was the toddler falling to the floor. My ears were filled with the sound of the blood suffocating the young child.
Please let me know if I should continue this....or if it's too...weird?.... :D Thanks!
