The Ex-assassin and His Neighbor

3 Stay

//Kierian//

I watch her in the corner booth between customers; there's a simple brightness that radiates from her direction, even in the early morning light. My shift is nearing its end when Mrs. Krause, the small German lady who owns the place, call my name. I turn to face her figure, she's short but not frail, her graying dark hair complimenting her strong features.

"Dear, would you be so kind as to run down to the grocery store and pick me up a couple dozen eggs after your shift? I left money on the back counter, feel free to buy yourself some lunch too, yeah?"

I give a light nod, "Sure thing" I smile before turning back to the awaiting customer. The new shipment didn't come until tomorrow morning, and, during busy weeks, we often had to run down to the local grocery store to get us through the last evening or two.

My shift is over before I know it. I grab the cash from the back counter and am greeted by the chilly September air.

I stop for a quick bite to eat at a local deli, and pass the time by pulling out a small sketchbook from my bag. Sketching grounds me; it helps remind me that I'm living a relatively normal life. I flip through the pages of the warn leather book. Familiar sketches of Russia, France, Netherlands, and, finally, London fill the pages, and my eyes settle on my latest one, a half-finished sketch of Big Ben. I set to work, finishing the sketch by memory.

I'm getting up from the small table when a large man brushes by me, his shoulder knocking me back, almost spilling the glass of water on the table.

"Hey, watch it," I say to no resolve as the gray-coated man keeps walking, without so much as acknowledging me.

I shake it off and head for the door.

-

Gathering the large stack of egg cartons and making my way back to the front of the store, I bump shoulders with someone solid. As the eggs shift, so does my grip, in attempt to keep them stable. "Sorry" I shrug, making brief eye contact as I push past the man. My pace quickens as realization dawns on me. Something was wrong. The shady figure in the gray coat, still dripping from the storm that had steadily picked up in minutes. He was at the small deli earlier as well. This guy was tailing me. I felt my heart beat erratically in my chest, and, despite the cool weather, I could feel my palms start to sweat. I don't dare look back as I head straight for the till. I try to keep my demeanor calm. As long as I'm in a public setting and don't show signs or recognition, he should keep his distance for the time being. Paying for the eggs, I make my way towards the doors.

The rain is coming down in sheets, saturating everything. I have to keep my head down as rain tears at my jacket and face. I take off the opposite direction of my flat, hoping to lose my tail in the midst of the storm and traffic.

I make it two blocks, completely soaked, and the rain is starting to let up a bit. I risk a glance over my shoulder.

That was a mistake.

My eyes lock on the gray-coated figure, suddenly in step ten feet behind me. I break into a run, still cradling the eggs to my chest. I'm not fast enough. I'm suddenly shoved harshly to the right, stumbling into an alley. The top carton of eggs goes flying.

"Bloody—"

Why did it have to be eggs?

Miraculously, I manage to drop the rest of the eggs with minimal damage.

"You're a difficult man to track down," the man growls. His thick Russian accent immediately confirms my suspicion.

He's here to bring me back

"I'm not going back," I reply coolly, desperately trying to cling to my composure.

Rain clouds my vision as his fist connects firmly with my jaw, sending searing pain up my face and causing me to stumble back a step. I block another blow, this one intended for my gut.

I launch a punch of my own, but he was expecting it. Adrenalin gets the best of me, and my punch intended for his face is shaky.

I desperately will myself to calm down as my lack of practice is leaving me vulnerable. I'm tiring quickly, and I know I won't be able to keep up the grappling for much longer.

He leaves himself open for a split second as he blinks rainwater from his eyes. It's all I need. I launch a blow to the face and immediately follow it up with a knee to the solar plexus. This throws the man off, and, for a second, I allow myself to think I have the upper hand.

It doesn't last.

I recognize the glint of metal an instant too late as an excruciating sting tears through my forearm. I don't have any time to waste as he swings again. A kick to his hand knocks the knife out of his grip, and I try to keep my head from spinning at the amount of blood currently running down my arm. The blood mixes with rainwater, saturating my clothes and dripping on the ground in a muted crimson.

I anticipate his punch before it launches towards my ribs, and, grabbing his arm, I twist it swiftly and quickly behind his back, forcing his momentum against him. I manage to use the energy to get him to the ground. A sickening snap surfaces as the man lets out a scream, his arm falling uselessly to the side. He tries to get up, but I grab the knife on the ground and thrust it into his opposite shoulder. He screams again as blood pools through his shirt onto his gray coat.

A metallic scent enters my throat, and it makes me want to gag. It's not so much the blood itself, but the memories that come flashing back. All the people I've hurt. All the people I've Killed. I throw myself to the side and retch.

I need to get out of here.

Throwing the knife deeper into the alley, I shakily get to my feet. I rip the bottom of my t-shirt and, with unsteady hands, secure it firmly around my forearm, trying my best to hide the gash with my now ripped hoodie. Holding my injured arm against my stomach, I pick up the abandoned eggs with the other. I glance back at the Russian, as he's already starting to pull himself off the ground and take off out of the alley at a quick pace.

I didn't harm him enough to kill him, just to slow him down. I know he won't go to a hospital, it's too risky for him.

By the time I get back to my flat, I'm soaked. The September air bites at my now saturated person. I duck into the kitchen to drop off the eggs and duck back out just as quickly, trying to avoid too many glances. I shuffle up the stairs and drop into my flat exhausted. Although it's only about 3 in the afternoon, I feel like I could drop off to sleep any second.

A painful hour and quarter of a bottle of whiskey later, the gash in my arm is cleaned and stitched, and I let the hot shower water run down my face. I'm still cold.

It's a chill that sits deep in the bones. Something that a simple change of clothes or hot shower can't rinse away. I try to blame it on the storm; however, I know better as glimpses of the gray-coated man and his blood flash through my mind. I didn't kill him. I try to reassure myself, but it doesn't work. I didn't want this life anymore; it's why I left. I made a pretty clean break, but sooner or later I knew it would catch up with me. I guess you can't run from your past forever. Living like the last 22 years of my life didn't exist wasn't as easy as I had hoped. I wanted so bad for my life here in London to be real. Simple even. I've been in London for three months, the longest I've stayed in one place since I left. This place was really starting to grow on me, and I wasn't ready to be back on the run again.

I decide to do something stupid, foolish even. I choose to stay.      

A/N Hey guys! First off, I apologize for this update taking so long. Please take this slightly longer chapter as a peace offering. Between being out of town, school, and writer's block it's been a fun two weeks. In other news, this is the first fight scene I've written,and dang did I struggle with it. I'll try to be more active and update more frequently. Tips and corrections more than welcome!