My Full Confession

We Come From Different Sides

"What are we going to do?" I hissed, knowing that it was just a matter of time before someone working in the hotel allowed the man access to the room. He must have a warrant, or he might be on his way to get one at that. Then again, if he was any bit as dirty as Victor he would break that door down without the power of the law on his side.
"There's a window in the bathroom, a tiny one, but we might be able to fit." John whispered, ushering me into the bathroom where I found a surprisingly small window. The window itself was big enough, yet it wouldn't open enough for us to squeeze through. It was a window just intended to keep air flow going, not for any stupid escape attempts. Perhaps when we were children it might've worked, yet now it seemed impossible.
"John that's not going to work." I insisted, yet another knock came again at the door, reminding me that it would have to do.
"Stand back then." John growled, wrapping his hands in the hand towel and taking a deep, determined breath. My eyes widened in fear, realizing just too late what he was prepared to do.
"Oh my god, you're not going to..." My words were cut off when that idiot threw his fist through the glass, shattering it into tiny fragments before hacking away at any wooden bits that might have fragmented the space. In the end the towel was stained scarlet, yet the window was opened wide enough for us to crawl through.
"Hurry, they'll have heard the glass!" John warned, helping me up onto the ledge and warning me (although a bit too late) to watch the glass shards as I ascended. I was able to squeeze through in something of a wiggle, flopping face first into a patch of dirt which was strewn with cigarette butts and countless other pieces of obscene litter. John threw the bags out next, which I caught as best I could all while minding the areas which were beginning to sting, the places where the glass had caught me on my way down.
"Come on John, come on!" I exclaimed, hearing now that the knocking had ceased, which meant the officer had decided to try a different plan of attack... John looked back anxiously, obviously having heard more than me, and dove in something of a painful leap out of the window, somehow managing to belly flop into the dirt before recollecting himself, taking my hand, and racing as fast as he could down the dirt alley and into the town once more.
"We've got to leave town, don't we?" I insisted breathlessly, racing alongside of him with my bag flopping painfully against my back.
"I don't know...I'm thinking." John admitted, seeming much too distracted to walk me through his game plan.
"Well if we leave we'll..."
"If we leave they might think to follow, and there'll be nowhere to hide out there." John interrupted, obviously unwilling to hear my poor and abrupt thought processes.
"But they know that we're here!" I protested in something of a whine, wincing as I chased him a couple of blocks, finding myself winded and exhausted by the time we ducked into another alley way, hiding behind a large stack of wooden crates as we recollected ourselves and healed our newly acquired wounds.
"Perhaps they don't know what we look like; we could blend in for some time." John suggested.
"What if he's here, what if this is all Victor's doing? He's bound to have found out the truth, if not for the murder then at least for the escape." I insisted, my blood running cold with the idea of the man being right on our heels. Oh how quickly that day had turned sour, when not hours before I had been consumed with passion, now I was trembling with helpless fear. And it was up to John, yet again, to save my life.
"If I was a cop, my first thought would be to check all carriages leaving the town, all wagons, anything where convicts could hide. If we tried to escape now, they'll catch us. We should stay, yes; we can stay here if we must." John insisted, gesturing to this dingy little alley. My heart dropped, yet I knew of course that whatever John said might as well be gospel. I certainly wasn't coming up with any brilliant ideas any time soon.
"Alright." I whispered, easing myself onto the ground and shaking like a leaf. Yet I tried to control myself, I didn't want to make John any more worried than he had to be. I could keep up with this, the life of a criminal was admittedly harder than what I was used to, yet it would have to be so. I'd rather live like a criminal than die like one. John sat down hard next to me, clutching his hand which was still wrapped in the towel, wincing as if every movement hurt it.
"You really do like getting yourself hurt, don't you?" I commented quietly. John sneered at me, yet he slowly unwrapped the towel to reveal a great bloody mess of flesh and glass.
"I've had worse." John admitted quietly. "At least I can operate on this one myself, and not have your brother picking at my head with tweezers."
"I doubt he was very gentle about it." I giggled, to which John nodded his head miserably, and began to pry out what little shards had managed to cut through his defenses and lodge themselves into his palm. It looked awfully painful, and yet it was what was necessary to keep us safe. If that police man had discovered the window shattered and the room empty he would know immediately that there were criminals afoot, or rather some form of a guilty party. Anyone who would injure themselves in a desperate escape had something to hide. They'd be after us for sure, now.
"Do you need to me to go and get something to clean that out with?" I suggested.
"No, no you're not leaving." John insisted. "You're certainly the one that sticks out more."
"Because I'm so tall?" I suggested.
"Because you're so beautiful. You're always the one I first notice." John muttered, to which I opened my mouth and shut it once more, feeling very flustered and very stupid. I couldn't think of an answer, no matter how hard I tried. And so I giggled a bit, and sat silent.
"I'll go and get stuff later, but as of now we'll stay here." John muttered. "We'll be fine here, so long as they don't come snooping for us." John decided finally.
"And if that happens?" I asked. John sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders as if he really didn't have any better suggestions.
"Well then we hope that we can slip away again, I don't know...up the buildings or something." he muttered with a shrug.
"If it's Victor, he'll go for me first." I suggested.
"Then if it's Victor, I'll attack him. And you run away." John agreed with a nod.
"That's a suicide mission." I pointed out in some protest, staring at John as if to clarify if he was being serious or not.
"I'd rather die than let you fall into his slimy hands." John grumbled.
"What use would my life be, after that? If you're dead there's no point in my running anymore. If you're dead, I'll just go and turn myself in." I insisted, grabbing at his hand so as to clutch it and demonstrate my dedication. Couldn't he see that my life would be over just as soon as his was? We were soulmates, that was for sure, and one soul mate dies the other isn't just able to live on. The other loses part of themselves, and in my case it would be the best part.
"That would be foolish, Sherlock. What point would there be? You're surely going to Heaven." He pointed out. "We'd not see each other again."
"You're not going to Hell, John. You're a good man, you're..."
"I killed a man, Sherlock." John protested in the smallest voice, as if he still wasn't used to saying it, to confessing.
"But you also saved one. My God, John, you're the best man I know." I insisted, leaning over and pulling his face onto mine, too overwhelmed to kiss him just yet. We just sat there with our foreheads leaning against each other, breathing onto each other's faces, and letting our tears fall onto the other's skin. He said nothing, obviously he didn't want to argue with me about his morality any longer, and so he dared kiss me quietly, just so that our lips could brush, before pulling away and going back to dabbing the blood from his hand with the already soiled towel.