He waits. Reflects; How did it come to this? Not enough
vitamins, too many hugs who knows. Where did it even start? The drugs, the
alcohol, the money. Regardless they’re coming and it isn’t just for a finger
this time.
The cold steel of the Remington pump action rests on his lap
like a faithful dog. His head is slung back and his eyes are closed, listening,
concentrating. The door, someone’s at
the door. No just the wind. None the less he readies his arms, shuts his eyes
once more; relax the time will come.
Just get on a train, any train that’s what he should have
done. What then? Start a new life? Find a job, something cash-in-hand, sample
the delights of small town England. Meet a nice girl, buy her flowers, take her
somewhere interesting, marry her, have children and maybe way down the line
when the boys are old enough, gather the family together and tell them the
truth? It will be hard at first, but there will be a long healthy life to
figure that out.
They would find him; he knows this, burn his dream down
because that is what happens to bad men who get sloppy. Besides who in their
right mind would leave London? This dark hearted bitch of a city. Who would
dare betray her?
Fuck small town England, fuck the pretty girl with the respectable
family, and fuck a long healthy life, how could they compare to her bright
lights and golden streets. London understands the need for self-destruction, besides
a hail of lead is so much easier.
The demons won’t have him, not this day, not without a
fight. Footfalls outside, shadows of half a dozen men definitely armed; only
five shells. He jerks to his feet, shotgun to his shoulder, heart thundering he
sweeps through the house; calm your nervous this will all be over soon one way
or the next.
The front door in his sites, shuffles on the other side;
make each cartridge count. The lock slips, the handle turns, the portal is
breached. He squeezes the trigger.
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