Tick, tick, tick.
She rested, she waited.
It was dark. The sun had just set and the moon was casting it's cold over the city. Outside the cars zoomed, people chattered and neon lights buzzed. On the 26th floor of a high-rise was a girl, tiny from the food she'd rejected and cold from the warmth she refused to soak in. She was leaning against one of the many walls that made up this condo; dark and damp from the lack of light- the only source from the neon outside. To her left were sliding doors that led to a balcony overlooking the street. Sheer curtains were swaying in a breeze that snuck into the room through the open doors. It brought with it a sticky humidity that hardly made itself known in the cold room.
Seconds, minutes, hours had blurred into nothingness and as far as the girl was concerned time could have stopped all together. Between her fingers rested her freedom, her survival. Bruises and cuts were splattered across her skin, the only form of color her body had to show for. It showed the torture she allowed herself and hinted at the pain she must be suffering.
A small buzzing was muted through the front door of the condo, but it's presence was known in the quiet of the rooms. Her ears perked and at once her memory triggered the familiar sound of an elevator.
He's coming home.
Her heart had started pounding, though not with fear but excitement. The girl was so numb from the cold that when she pushed herself from the wall her bones cracked and stiffened. This is it.
Claire lifted the gun and opened it's bullet chamber. Her boney finger spun it around and her eyes focused on the one bullet inside. Quickly, before the chamber had a chance to stop, she clicked it back inside the gun. Seconds later the sound of foot steps were descending in the hallway, loud and forceful, then fumbling of keys while the man tried to find the right one.
Click, click. The door unlocked.
A faint squeaking from the door hinges follow by loud banging indicated the man entered the condo. Claire stood in front of the sliding glass doors, behind her aglow that kept the features on her face shaded. She was almost like an angel. The man came into view and he looked at Claire with a drunken smirk.
She lifted the gun. His eyes widened. She held it steady. She pulled the trigger.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Created: Jul 19, 2010Document Media