Harshal
“And how does this dress look?” Brunelle asks as she comes out of the dressing room.
She met this guy at the coffee shop and now they’re going on a date tonight so she brought me to the mall to help her shop for more clothes. Clothes she doesn’t need might I add. She’s currently trying on a short black dress which leaves nothing to the imagination.
“No.” I simply say.
“What?” she asks. “I think it outlines my ass real nice.”
She palms said ass as she looks at her reflection in the mirror that sits in the waiting room.
“Yeah, you want to go on a date not a fucking pornography interview.” I state.
She sighs.
“Okay, I’ll try something else on.” She says, walking back to her dressing room.
“And once again I’ll be out here.” I comment. “Hey, send me a picture of the guy so I know what he looks like in case I need to identify him at the police station.”
“Give me a second.” She responds a second or two later. “Ugh, the zipper on these jeans doesn’t want to work.”
“Are they too tight?” I ask.
“No, they’re actually too big, I’d need to wear a belt if I wear them, otherwise they’d fall down with literally just one step.” She replies.
“Do you have a belt in there?” I ask, looking back in the store, searching for a belt rack.
“No, I can just hold them up when I come out.”
“Why didn’t you get your size in them?” I ask.
“They didn’t have my size and these jeans are just too cute.” She says.
I chuckle. “Why are you teasing yourself?”
“I just wanted to see what they look like on me.” she responds.
A few seconds later she comes out, holding the pants up like she said.
Their regular blue jeans with patch work of different spring pictures.
Butterflies getting nectar from a flower, bees flying in a flower field, flowers blowing in the wind, a cottage with a beautiful garden.
They really are nice because they’re different.
Paired with the jeans is a flowy white blouse with petite yellow polka dots.
The sleeves are long sleeves but is made up of white lace.
“If only you could fit those pants that outfit would be perfect.” I state.
“Honestly, these jeans are so cute.” She says, looking at herself in the mirror.
I feel bad because I can tell by the look in her eyes that she really wants these jeans.
“Brunelle, are you sure they don’t have your size?” I ask.
She shrugs with a sigh. “I didn’t see my size.”
“Would you like me to go check for you?” I ask.
“You can try but I doubt you’d find any.” She says.
“Okay well you go try on the last outfit and I’ll go see if they have your size in those jeans.” I said, standing up. “What size do you wear?”
“Ten.”
I nod and venture off into the store to find the pants.
At first, I don’t know where I’m going, I look around and around but don’t see a table or rack with those exact pants.
It takes me about a good ten minutes to finally find them after, searching through multiple tables and racks of women’s jeans.
Looking through the jeans I see sizes zero, three, seven, eight, twelves, fourteens, all the way up to a size twenty, but no ten.
“May I help you find something?” a petite feminine voice asks, startling me.
Turning I see a young woman around my age smiling at me.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” She apologizes.
I smile. “No worries.”
“Need help finding anything?” she asks again.
“Yes, my friend needs a size ten in these pants, is there any way you can see if you guys have a size ten in the back?”
“Yes, of course, they are gorgeous, aren’t they?” she says.
“Different.” I agree.
“Yes, okay, give me about five minutes and I’ll be right back.”
“Can you bring them to me in the fitting rooms?” I request.
“Of course.” She says, walking to the back.
I then walk back to the fitting rooms.
“Brunelle.” I call.
She comes out of her dressing room in a pair of short-shorts and a lingerie body suit that is supposed to resemble a sexy secretary. The lingerie piece looks absolutely ridiculous. She knows it too because she’s trying to hold in her laughter but every now and then a few chuckles escape her lips.
“Absolutely not.” I grin.
“What you don’t think I can seduce him with my intelligence and the fact that I could work for a billionaire?” she asks, humor clear in her voice.
“No.” I laugh shaking my head.
She breaks into laughter with me before looking around me and at my hands.
“I’m assuming you didn’t see a ten.” She says, the lightness in her tone leaving quickly.
I shake my head.
“No, I did not, but there is an employee checking the back.” I reply.
“Oh, what would I do without you in my life!” she sighs. She crosses her fingers. “Hopefully they have a ten.”
I cross my fingers as well. “Hopefully.”
Like clockwork the employee enters the fitting rooms with the pair of pants.
“Your friend is in luck, this is the last ten available.” She tells me, handing me the pants.
“Are you serious?” Brunelle asks.
The employee looks at her and nods.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Brunelle cheers taking the pants from me.
She leans toward me and kisses my cheek.
“I love you so much!” she says before turning her attention to the employee. “And you are amazing!”
The employee smiles. “Thank you and if you need anything else just let me know.”
She then walks out of the fitting rooms. Brunelle squeals in excitement as she runs back into her dressing room. She comes back out dressed in her original clothes and walks out of the dressing rooms with me following.
“I’m assuming we’re finished shopping?” I ask.
She abruptly stops at a table with a couple different types of perfume. She studies them before shaking her head and continuing walking to the register. She pays for her clothes and we head out the store.
“Okay now I need to get some cute shoes that’ll match this outfit.” She smiles at me as I give her a pointed look.
We begin to slowly walk through the mall.
“Seriously?” I ask. “You have shoes at home, some that will perfectly match that outfit.”
“Yeah?” she asks. “Which pair?”
“Those yellow heels you bought for our high school prom.” I state.
“Those are cute.” She says, deep in thought. “But... I’ve already worn those.”
“Yeah, like once.” I smile.
“But...” we are now standing in front of a shoe store, the store music booming. “My shoes at home need new friends.”
I open my mouth to protest but am interrupted by her zooming past me saying,
“Ooh those are cute!”
Pow, pow, pow!
Brunelle freezes just before the threshold of the shoe store and so do I. She slowly turns around to face me.
“Did you hear that?” she asks.
I’m silent for a moment before I shrug.
“Could have been in the music the store is playing.” I reason.
I take a step forward before a man runs into me.
He stumbles but quickly regains his balance before he continues to run.
I watch him turn a corner before I take a step forward and nearly slip.
Catching myself I look down and see a trail of blood left by the man who bumped into me. My heart drops and Brunelle gasps.
“Is that man bleeding?” she asks.
A loud commotion comes from the same direction the bleeding man came from. These men are dressed the color pallet of green, white, brown, and black. Most of them have green bandanas on their face as masks and they all carry different types of guns.
“Where is he?”
“Find him and shoot anyone in your way.”
“That motherfucker!”
“The boss wants his soul!”
They all say at the same time, overlapping each other, before they split up in different directions. I need to help that man before he dies.
“Ohmigod.” Brunelle whispers. “Wh-what do we do?”
“You go into the store and mind your business, hide if you must, I’m going to go help that guy.” I reply.
“What no, are you insane, they’ll kill you without hesitation!” she whisper-shouts at me.
I look around. The men haven’t found the trial of blood yet, good. Pushing Brunelle into the shoe store I run, following the blood trial. I follow it to the janitors closet. I try the door but it’s locked. I knock on it.
“Sir?”
No answer.
“Sir, you’re bleeding, can I help?”
Still no answer and my heart drops, please don’t let this man be dead. I knock once more and I hear a grunt along with something clattering on the floor, almost like a broom or mop stick colliding with the floor. I press my ear to the door.
“Sir, if you open the door and hand me the mop I can clean the blood trail and throw those men off your tracks for a while.” I plead.
Hopefully they haven’t already found the blood trial which I doubt because blood can’t be missed on a stark white floor. I stumble forward and fall into the janitors closet.
“Who are you?” he asks.
I examine him and he’s covered in blood and it looks like he’s been shot three times.
One in each arm and one in his leg. He’s a helluva runner given the fact that he’s been shot in the leg.
I look down at myself and discover that I have a little of his blood on my clothing.
I shake my head before I respond to his question.
“I’m no one, just a college student studying to be a nurse.” I state. “May I help you?”
“Can you call... the...”
He leans against the wall and slides down to his bottom, his eyes nearly closed.
“Hey, no, no, no, don’t close your eyes, stay awake for me!” I say, kneeling in front of him.
His head lolls to the side and his eyes close.
Fuck! I slap his face a couple times but he’s unresponsive.
Shit! Quickly pulling out my phone I call the paramedics and give them the info they need before grabbing a roll of paper towels and covering his wounds with it.
I grab the nearest mop head and rip some strings off it and use the strings to tie the napkins to his wounds, making sure I add enough pressure to make the wounds stop bleeding.
I just finished tying the mop strings on his leg when I hear a gun cock. I freeze and hold my bloody hands up.
“I’m going to say this and I’m going to say this once.” a deep voice says. “Follow every instruction I give, if you refuse or move to slowly you die.”
I nod in response, still blind to whomever has me hostage.
“Get up and move to the side, leave the guy by himself.”
I do just that and turn around, finally making eye contact with the owner of the gun.
“Did I tell you,” he says before kicking me in the ribs, “to turn around and look at me, huh?”
My ribs ache now and I wrap my arms around them to help soothe the pain.
“Now you must die.” He says, pointing the gun right in the center of my eyes.
My blood runs cold as I see my life flash before my eyes.
I jump, expecting to drop dead when the man is jerked forward.
He bumps into me, the gun being smacked across my face, cutting my cheek.
He turns around to come face to face with.
.. Wraith. He standing in the threshold of the door with a murderous look on his face.
“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome here on Mother Earth.” Wraith says.
“Fuck you!” The guy shouts.
He gets up and goes to swing at Wraith but Wraith catches the punch and pulls out a pocketknife and stabs the man in the armpit. The guy screams in pain right before Wraith kicks him in the stomach with his heavy boot.
“Oomph!” the guy grunts as he falls to the floor.
He grabs his gun and shoots at Wraith and Wraith ducks, the bullet plunging into the wall.
Wraith charges after the man and snatches the bandana off his face and wraps it around the mans neck, choking him.
He struggles, arms and legs flailing every which way.
I scoot over to the unconscious man and check his pulse.
He still has one, thank fuck, but it’s really slow.
I’m starting to think he has wounds somewhere else I didn’t see.
All of a sudden stars decorate my vision as my brain takes its sweet ass time to register that I’ve just been kicked in the face.
Looking back at Wraith and the other man I see that Wraith is still choking the man out with his own bandana using one hand while his other hand is busy stabbing the man in the torso.
Chest, stomach, neck, even going down to the mans crotch and up upper thigh.
The man hollers in agony but Wraith doesn’t stop.
In fact as I watch him it’s like Wraith is an artist making art.
His attention is laser focused on his task, stabbing the man while choking him out before Wraith finally brings the knife up and slices the mans throat wide open.
Blood rushes into his mouth and he chokes on it as blood pours out of his neck as well.
Wraith flicks the knife free of as much blood as he can before he looks at me.
I freeze as we stare each other in the eye.
I’m thankful when I hear sirens in the background.
“You better go before the police catch you.” I state. “I called the paramedics for him.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, expressionless. Hie eyes are dark and for some odd reason they’re pulling me to him like a magnetic pull. I want to explore what lurks behind those brown eyes of his.
“Come with me.” he says.
I’m taken aback at the sound of his husky voice.
“What? No, I need to stay here with this guy.” I protest.
He walks to the threshold of the janitors closet, stepping over the corpse he made, careful not to step in blood.
“The paramedics are here for him, come with me now!” he demands.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
He turns around and hauls me to my feet harshly. He wraps his hand around my throat and presses me against the wall, getting in my face.
“Shut the fuck up and come with me.” he demands once again, voice cold, harsh, husky.
I swallow as best I can with his hand wrapped around my throat and try to nod.
The hand around my throat drops and grasps my hand as he leads me out of the mall, to his motorcycle.
He reaches for his helmet and puts it on me before literally picking me up and depositing me on the back of the bike.
He snaps the helmet in place, making sure it’s secure on my head.
“Wait my friend is still in the mall.” I say, raising the visor.
“She knows her way home.” He grumbles, getting on the bike.
He doesn’t have a helmet on. Turning around he snaps the visor shut and revs the engine.
“Is that where you’re taking me home?” I ask. “Wait you can’t you don’t know where I live.”
“You don’t know what I know.” He says.
“Where’s your helmet?” I ask.
“Shut the fuck up!” he then pulls out of the parking lot and we drive off into the sunset.
To where I don’t know...