She got away. How could she get away? His fist smashed into the wall. Why was he so distracted that she had managed to get away? Now he had to get her back. What if someone found her. He had to go. he had to leave. No, he had to stop her. He couldn’t start over again. He heard a door slam. She wasn’t far. He must have just missed her. He went to storm out of the iron room. His foot slipped out of under him as he fell into the puddle of blood that Elizabeth had left behind. While sitting there he noticed the drops of blood leading from the chair to the black door. Everything was soot black except the crimson glow gleaming from the open bulb swinging in the middle of the room. He picked him self back up again, his hands now covered, red and sticky. It was warm and smelled of sweat and copper. He could follow her now. Walking out of the room he turned and grabbed the crowbar he had snapped her arm with earlier.
FLASHBACK!!!
(six hours earlier)
There she sat, alone. Wait, no, she had brought that perky little girl with her. She was a dimwit. There would be nothing to worry about. He walked over to the bar where the brunette was sitting. He loved that kind of hair. Her dress was knee length and full black. She was obviously too modest to be in a place like this.
“Hi! My name is Jason,” that sounded like a good honest intro.
“Umm, nice to meet you Jason, My name is Elli.”
“So what you drinking?” that still sounded earnest and harmless.
“Water,” her answer was short and curt. She didn’t want to talk to him. She probably thought he was just like all the other men in the bar.
“Why are you drinking water in a bar.”
“Because I can,” now she was irritated.
“That doesn’t sound like much of a reason,” my eyebrows shot up as I smiled.
“What’s it matter to you anyway. It’s none of your business,” now she was fuming.
“Well I was just kinda curious, but I guess I can go if I am bothering you.” She had been alone for most of the night. Her friend had ditched her and the only other man who had spoken to her spilled his Black’n'tan down her front and then blamed her for it. She looked displeased to see me going but did not actually say anything. “Or I guess I could stay here and get a couple beers,” at that she perked up, but just a hair, not enough that anyone else would have been able to tell. I do not believe she was okay with herself for being comforted by a drunk at a bar.
