Fatal Mercy | h.s

1

London, 10:45PM

"Passengers, we have now landed in London, United Kingdom. It has been a pleasure flying with you. Please stay safe, and enjoy your stay," the intercom rang loudly from the speakers above us, the fuzzy audio jolting me up from my slumber. I pried my eyes open, adjusting to the light, the yellow glimmer reflecting onto the groggy passengers in front of me. I looked to my side with a smile, only to be disappointed with the sight my boyfriend James, evidently furious and distracted by his phone.

"We're here," I whispered, nuzzling my head onto his shoulder. As soon as we came into contact, his reaction turned cold the second he shrugged me off of him, snapping his phone shut and tucking it back into the pocket of his jeans. Without a word, he stood up, reaching upwards to pull down our luggages from the top compartment. I looked at him with confusion, wondering what caused him to become so distant with me.

These mood swings were something I was used to. One minute, he was kind and loving, but the next he was gaslighting me into thinking I had done something so terribly wrong. It was an unhealthy cycle, but I realized that during these moments of moody outbursts, all he needed was a little bit of space.

"Let's go, cab's already waiting outside," he mumbled, turning his back to me and heading down the queue. I stood up, my arms instantly reaching for the ceiling in a much needed stretch. With a yawn, I heard James speak again, "El, I said let's go," he snapped, his eyebrows furrowing in irritability.

I sighed, my groggy steps dragging me off of the airplane and into the busy airport. I made sure to stay close to James' side, taking in bits and fragments of the foreign city with doe eyes and undeniable fascination. Business people scurried past me, young girls taking photos, laughter and chatter and beautiful accents filling my ears.

"I already said we're on our fucking way," James spat over the phone, his thumb hanging up the call before I realized he was even on one.

"Who was that? Your mom?" I asked with wide eyes, looking at him with deep concern. He simply ignored me, pulling my hand to his side and dragged me along towards the exit. We awaited in the busy line, looking for the exact cab that he had ordered.

"Let's take a picture," I gleamed, an attempt to lighten the dull mood he was in. I scrambled through my purse to look for my phone, only now realizing that it was missing. "Wait, babe, I think I left my phone on the plane," I mumbled, still facing down to double check my belongings. I frantically searched my sweater's pockets, hoping to find it somewhere, but it was missing. With no luck, I looked back up to see that James was now gone, lost in a sea of people.

My heart began to thud in my chest, an overwhelming feeling of anxiety taking over. I had no phone or money. The airport was swarmed with people and I didn't know how it would even be slightly possibly to find him. "James?" I asked, turning my head back and forth, my eyes scanning each and every person with hope. I walked forward, down the sidewalk,m repeating his name like a crazy person. "Okay breathe, Ellie," I began speaking out loud to myself. "Just go to the help desk and—"

"Excuse me, Miss," someone alerted me, tapping on my shoulder. My eyes returned upwards to come in contact with a man not much older than myself, his attire all black. I parted my mouth to speak, when I felt another man grabbed my hands, forcefully leading me towards a black SUV.

"S-Stop, what are you—" I tried to speak, but with the whiff of a tiny white rag, everything began to spin, my legs becoming weak, my sight going black.

•••

London, 1:32AM

I always thought death could possibly be a peaceful thing. No more stress, no more worries. Just an eternal slumber.