A love story Amanda Young and Mark Hoffman

2

Amanda walked back to the warehouse. She wandered around mindlessly, running her hands over the papers spread out over the tables.

She went to her room and opened her trunk. She took the key from her neck and the metal box and sat down on her bed. She opened the box and peered at the contents inside.

"You will give everything to me." Amanda breathed heavily. "Every cell in your body." She did. She gave John everything. Everything she could.

She heard footsteps and shoved the box under her bed. She stood up as Hoffman pulled the curtain back and leaned against the wall. He smiled.

"John fell back asleep." he said.

"Good," she avoided eye contact with him. She concentrated on a small droplet of red blood on the floor.

"Amanda?" Hoffman asked. He grabbed her arms. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Amanda replied, looking at him. She reached up and stroked his cheek. She walked around him and got back to work on a trap they were designing. It attached to a person's ribs, and if they could not retrieve the key in time, the arms would snap, tearing the ribs. Hoffman watched her intently from across the table. She pretended to be concentrating, but her mind wandered. She remembered when she used to be a junkie. Her only care in life was to have drugs, and using them.

"Amanda?" Hoffman pulled her back to the present. He was standing next to her now. She smiled to him. He leaned down and pecked her on the lips. She gently pushed him away. She wandered around, pretending to look for something. Hoffman followed closely behind, watching he greedily. She stopped suddenly, causing Hoffman to run into her. Her stomach flipped and she felt something wrong.

"Something's wrong," she said. She grabbed an ax sitting on a nearby table and took off towards John's room. Hoffman followed closely, hand on his gun. Hoffman went into John's room while Amanda went into another part of the warehouse.

There was a man digging through a pile of things in the corner. He had long, shaggy, filthy, brown hair. He wore an overcoat that was too long and a black stocking cap. Amanda figured that he was some homeless man who had wandered in.

"Hey!" Amanda yelled. The man got up. He had a small knife in his hand; he held it out as he charged at Amanda. She swung the ax but he dodged. He slapped her and she stumbled, the ax flew out of her hand. The man backed her against the wall, knife at her throat.

Amanda kicked the back of his leg and he fell. Amanda ran for the ax and he grabbed her leg. She hit the ground hard. The man pinned his her on the ground and put the knife to her throat again. The knife dug into her throat and she cried out in pain. He opened his mouth to speak when a loud bang echoed in the room.

The man's forehead dripped from the gunshot wound and he tumbled to the ground next to her. Detective Hoffman pulled Amanda to her feet and looked her over. Her face was filled with shock.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Amanda nodded, breathing heavily. Hoffman walked around her and knelt down next to the man. He placed to fingers on the man's neck.

"He's dead." Hoffman stated. Amanda relaxed a little. She turned and hurried to John's room. John let out a small sigh of relief when he saw her.

"Amanda, is everything alright?" John asked.

"Some homeless guy got in," she explained. "Hoffman shot him." John's look became grave.

"He was threatening Amanda." Hoffman said, appearing in the doorway. "He has a knife." John seemed to except that.

"I could've handled it." Amanda told Hoffman.

"Oh, yeah? Was getting you throat slit just a minor setback?" Hoffman teased.

"I was just about to push him off."

"Why can't you just say thank you and move on with your life?" Hoffman countered.

"You're such an ass." Amanda replied.