Path to Secrecy

Found in the Flesh

With a huge inhale, I dragged backside onto the bonnet and sat upright. My head hung low and I constantly spoke to myself, calming myself and not bothering to care if a stranger happened to be walking by.

I was scared, tremendously scared at the war I was facing. I assumed I was strong and happened to know the perfect choice of action but I soon realised they weren't as easy to apply. Numerous factors were involved and I considered copying DeCicco's style.

Kill and move on.

I stopped myself. I didn't have to courage to go so far, but it's what the outcome would be if I stood in a life and death position.

 "Stop. Stop, please stop."

I groaned, halting in mentally resolving thoughts and theories. When the time comes, my mind can work it's magic. But for now, just now, I needed the moment to comprehend my position and expect nothing more than a miracle.

My hands comfortably clasped together while my thumbs fiddled with my bottom lip. My feet propped onto the front bumper of the car, while my knees supported my elbows. Horns beeped onto the bridge and once again my eyes drifted towards the large structure, maintaining the weight of thousands of tonnes.

Immense goose bumps lavishly brought my attention down to my arms and I huffed.

A pair of headlights shined brightly against the high tide and I frowned before whipping my head around, staring at the approaching vehicle. A black Camaro with strong blue headlights beamed into my pupils, gaining my sudden curiosity.

It rounded beside me, the weary moonlight and tinted windows failing to provide a better view of the driver. My fingers slid against the hood of my car and I patiently waited for the stranger to step out, suddenly fearing at my lack of physical response.

The door swung open and a large combat boot smacked against the gravel beneath.

My body slid off my vehicle until my converse lightly tapped the ground and I stared silently.

A muscular physique fulfilled my curiosity about the owner of the Camaro. A thin loose tank top embraced his upper body, while a pair of army style track pants covered the bottom.  His skin remained between tan and pale while his brown hair stood on edge.

Roy D'mero gazed at me like a predator after it's prey.

His muscular arm pushed the car door close while his heavy footsteps made it's way to me. My posture stood still, absorbing every detail of his calm demeanour. I rethought my every move, judging whether they were compatible to his level.

Obviously not, but size didn't always matter.

Instead of gaiting closer, his eyes drifted towards the tumbling waves further away from shore and he switched directions, standing where I once positioned myself behind the heavy tide. Arms folded and head held high.

"Thinking about running away?"

His slight Russian accent dialogue caught me off guard and I looked away when he glanced over his shoulder, smothering brown eyes glaring past my soul.

The silence reigned over and I soon disliked his presence. Though my reaction needed to be more dramatic, involving curse words or tonnes of insults, I wasn't one to follow the path of stupidity. Antonio may have informed me a clue to solve Jonathon's murder, but my job was to listen, not to believe. "Well, you should be the one to help."

He breathed a taunting laugh, raising the hairs over my neck into tremors. "I don't think so."

"Why are you here then?"