Last night I was texting my girlfriend. I think if she hadn’t ended it with us, I would have asked her to marry me.
In high school she was just a year above me. Her friend group would sit near mine, under a maple behind the classrooms. She had black hair and wispy bangs that flopped around her eyelashes. She would often wait for me after school to make sure I wouldn’t go do reckless stuff with my buddies. I didn’t really understand why she cared. I’d been suspended so many times that even my parents had given up on me. She looked at me in a different way, so innocent and unknowledgeable of what I was really like. I liked being seen that way, even though it wasn’t really true.
When she asked me out I said yes because I really didn’t want to lose that feeling. But it wasn’t romance.
I was so stuck by my fear of her leaving me behind that I never really gave my feelings a second thought. I just didn’t think I could handle anymore people giving up on me. And then she did.
I wondered if that's what being dumped normally felt like. The ground felt so cold, and Lance’s grip was so warm. Even though I really liked it, I knew better than to trust a person like him. My back throbbed as I sat up. I pushed Lance off me and rubbed my eyes. Why was I even there? Wet and cold surrounded by green? There was a distant sound of gushing water, and the lights of a few houses flickered off. In any other situation, it would’ve been beautiful. Lance was holding his duffle bag tight, along with his carry on backpack. He smelt rusty and looked tired.
I sprung onto him and pinned his legs to the ground. He kept hold of the bags desperately. “Why?!” I panted. My knuckles crushed his cheekbone. I took his tie and pulled it until his stomach clenched and face went red. He winced. I could smell my own angry sweat all over him. I gripped his jaw. Then collapsed into him when my back pain finally caught up with me. “Don’t push yourself,” he smiled. And sat me up. “Here, put this on your back.” He handed me a cream that had a package similar to toothpaste. “And swallow these pills for the pain.” They were from his backpack. At that point, I didn’t care if the pills were poisoned so long as it made the pain go away. I watched the blood trickle down his cheek. Maybe it was okay to let that guy help me. Maybe I could just… not hate him for a minute. Maybe it was okay to stay that way for a while.
But that hope was short-lived. He looked so pure when he was asleep. So harmless that I couldn’t believe I was actually scared of him just hours ago. Though it was pretty gross that he drooled in his sleep. Blegh. I crawled over to his backpack. This is how it has to be, I thought. He let his guard down the moment he fell asleep, and so he would pay the price.
His backpack was surprisingly light. In the front compartment he had a torch, an empty first aid kit and sheet of paper with the in-flight menu printed out. The back compartment had a cased dagger. The blade bassically glowed in the dark. Even though I had what I needed, I continued to feel my way around the bag. It was useless. Really, what did I expect? A signed confession that he was the hijacker? This guy wasn’t that dumb. I flopped down against the bag. It made an unexpected crinkle noise. Something was in there. A SIGNED CONFESSION!
Did confessions usually come in such ominous envelopes? The handwriting scrawled over the back read something like, ‘Do not read until you have the money’. There were a couple more words that I couldn’t make out. They were smudged and the ink looked slightly fresher than the other words. It had been written urgently. Whoever wrote it was pressing the pen so forcefully that it created small tears in the paper. The envelope was unopened despite it’s crumbling condition. It smelt of old glue. I carefully cut the flap open with my nail. Then pulled out the note. If Lance had read that note, then maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.
The dagger fit well in my hands. It was heavier than I expected, like holding a snowglobe. I sat over him wondering why I didn’t feel terrible. Why something like that wasn’t something that made me hesitate. I lifted my arms. He couldn't get away with what he’d done. He held a plane full of people hostage for his own gain. Even after I killed him, his debt wouldn’t be paid. My heart jumped. Now, I thought.
“Don’t,” cried Lance. I fell backwards onto the grass. How did he know I was there? With his eyes closed, tears began to dribble down his cheek. “Please let me live.”
I waved my hand over his face, but he didn’t react. “Lance, are you awake?”
He didn’t answer. I touched his cold cheek. “Are you having a bad dream?” I asked.
He sniffed. “I’m sorry mum… I’m sorry!” He screamed. His voice was hopeless and shaky. “How much am I worth to you?! Why are you just giving up on me? M-”
I put down the dagger and shook him awake. He flinched. “Riley?” He croaked.
“Ah. You’re awake?”
He looked dazed. “Didn’t you say you’re going to kill me if you survive? I don’t feel very dead.”
“Tell me what you were dreaming about.”
“Huh? Why? I don’t remem-”
“Why did you do it?! Give me a real reason! No more games Lance.”
“I thought my name was Sarah?” He laughed, smearing his face dry. “I told you. I wanted to see my dad again.”
His dad? At that moment I remembered what the letter said. It sent a cold chill through my body. “Lance… your dad, he’s…”
“All I have left.”
I gulped.
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