Samantha Davies', 19 years old, life is flipped over after she accidentally flirted with one of the world's most notorious criminals. He is infatuated with her. Thinking she escaped him after moving to the US for college, she tries to start her life...
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"Of course," the girl said, after a pondering silence, her unsure eyes darting from Sam to me and back.
Samantha smiled. "You're going out?"
"Ah, well, no, I'm meeting up with someone." The black-haired fiddled with her dress. "But I'm kind of running late..."
"Oh, sorry. Well, we wanted to know how to get somewhere, but we'll ask someone else. No matter."
The girl nodded quickly, to me as well, before darting off. She had nothing on her except for the clothes she was wearing, and everything just screamed, 'I want to fuck, tonight', at me. Nothing (apparent) pedophilic about that.
Samantha turned to me with her eyebrows raised high on her forehead. "So, wrong person?" she asked softly, as soon as the young woman was out of hearing-distance.
"I don't know..." I sighed. "The mother we spoke with today only has the little girl and boy as kids. She didn't live there, yet she snuck out like a teenager secretly meeting her boyfriend, not wanting her mother to know. Why the hell-"
Before I could finish that sentence, a man came running past us, towards the girl, panting like a madman. Sam and I jumped in surprise, following the man wide-eyed. He was old, somewhere nearing his fifties, but was handsome and in shape like a twenty-something. His hair was greying, he wore a sharp suit and in his hand was a- what the hell was happening here? - gun. A simple handgun, but nevertheless very illegal here.
"Josephine, please," the man begged, and the girl whirled around as if stung by a bee.
"No, no," she cried, and I heard Sam gasp as the man yanked the gun away, instead of using it. "No, Mark, it's over. I can't-"
Her voice got cut off by a hitch in her throat as the man firmly grabbed her by the waist and slammed his lips onto hers. He mumbled a few words, as the girl sobbed, and my mouth hung open.
"What the fuck..." I brought out, as Samantha blinked and turned to me.
"Was that a gun?"
I snapped back to reality, and quickly strolled over to the place the man threw the weapon at. Picking up the familiar steel, I frowned, as moans and sobs from across the street made it very hard for me to think. Alright. What the hell was going on here?
"No, Mark!" the girl whimpered. "You don't understand, my brother-"
He hushed, and for a second, I thought they were kissing again, but he'd simply placed a finger on her lips, and was staring at me. I stared straight back, trying very hard to analyze the situation, but failing miserably. I just couldn't make sense of it.
"Excuse me, that is my gun," the man pointed out, nodding at the object in my hand.
For a moment, I considered pulling out my FBI-badge and say, 'not anymore, fucker!', but realized that'd be inappropriate. It was inappropriate that I took it on my holiday in the first place.
