Fatal Flaws

Part 1

The loud sound of gunshots echoes through the empty alleyway. I can hardly stand, leaning against the cool brick of the nearby building, gasping and panting. Each rigid breath I muster gets caught in my throat. Gripping my head in my hands, I squeeze slightly. The constant beating of my heart rings violently in my ears. My head is spinning, and everything is foggy.  The more I replay tonight's events, the more confused I become. Nothing makes sense.

"This can't be real. There's no way, I have to be trapped in some twisted nightmare," I mumble, trying to rationalize everything that's happened.

The hot, sticky, humid weather is intensifying the already horrid situation. Sweat covers my forehead. The tiny beads slowly drip over my brows and down into my eyes. Thinking quickly, I use my torn, dirty sleeve to wipe them. But it does little to help. Trying to read the bright flashing neon green sign above me, I squint, "Ollies Billiards." Looking up, an intense throbbing pain erupts throughout my skull. Quickly, forcing me to tear my eyes away from the blinding bright lights in an attempt to ease the throbbing headache. These last few hours have been hell. I'm exhausted, mentally and physically. I don't think I can keep going. 

"Come on, Bex, you got this," I urge, giving myself a pep talk. 

It's not safe, I can't stay here. Mentally, piecing together a map, I figure out I'm on Elm Street. Only eight more blocks, and I'll be home, safe and sound. But can I make it? My legs are weak, threatening to give out. Before I can react, my body collapses backward, slamming into the hard brick. Piercing my flesh, a sharp pain sears through my shoulder, giving me the motivation I needed. 

Using support from the building, I thrust myself forward into a standing position. The pain on my right side worsens with each movement. It's unbearable. Clenching my teeth does nothing to suppress the agonizing pain. Neither does applying pressure. As my right hand clutches beneath my ribcage, fresh blood oozes between my fingers. My once white sweatshirt is stained red. The entirety of it drenched from my breast to my thighs. Staring blankly, I'm mesmerized as I watch it trickle across my knuckles, instantly dying them red.  

The rusty smell of stale blood mixed with the scent of fresh oozing liquid is too much, making me nauseous. Unable to ignore the giant lump forcing its way up my throat, I vomit. The disgusting splashing sound it makes as it smacks the pavement is sickening. After expelling everything in my system and several minutes of dry heaving, my body has had enough. I'm ready to give up. Anything would be better than this. The intense burning sensation is excruciating. My insides feel like they're on fire, raging from inside out, with no way to extinguish them. I don't even know how bad it is. The thought of it terrifies me. I refuse to lift my shirt and inspect the wound, instead praying for the best.

A loud noise from behind startles me. Trembling, I peer around the corner of my hiding place. Stray bullets ricochet off the nearby buildings, creating a smoke screen. I can barely make anything out. In the distance, cop sirens wail, getting closer with each passing second. They'll be here any minute, getting louder, closing in. Desperately scanning my surroundings for an escape, I come up empty. I'm trapped with only one option: run, and pray that I make it out alive.

It seems impossible. I can barely stand due to the pressure in my head, combined with severe blood loss. The building behind me still acts as a crutch. I'm worn out. But I have to do this, there are no other options. Grabbing hold of the silver necklace that's dangling freely from my neck, I squeeze. Ignoring the pain as the metal tears through the flesh between my fingers, I squeeze tighter. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I mutter a small prayer. This is it, it's now or never. Gathering my remaining strength, I force myself up. Without giving it a second chance, I dart from behind my shelter, into the unknown. My eyes snap open, met with complete darkness. Everything is silent except the sound of my heart beating.

Slowly, my eyes begin adjusting. I'm in bed. The familiar blue and black checkered comforter lies in a tangled heap at my feet. A half-drunk glass of water from the previous night sits on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. Inhaling deeply, mother's favorite fabric softener hangs in the air, bringing a sense of security. It was a dream. I'm safe and sound at home. On autopilot, my fingers find their way beneath my shirt, drenched in sweat. Feeling their way across my ribcage, softly touching the rough, raised skin. It's a constant reminder of the nightmare I'm trapped in.

A red glare across the room catches my attention. Three fifty-four a.m. shines in bold, bright numbers from the alarm clock. It doesn't feel like I've been asleep at all. Now that I'm awake, my nerves take over. Besides my repeating nightmare, today is a big day. I've been waiting for this all summer. Counting down the days until I leave this dreadful little town. This is my chance to escape and start over with a clean slate.  Somewhere, no one knows me or my past. Going to college wasn't ever on my bucket list. Honestly, I never gave it a second thought. I hated school growing up, constantly skipping class. Everyone thought I'd fail, that I'd never amount to anything other than a dropout, pregnant at fifteen. But I proved them wrong, graduating by the skin of my teeth. I worked hard, gathering all of my credits in one year and managing to finish a month early. 

Thinking about everything is giving me a migraine. Reaching over, I open the drawer, blindly rummaging through it. Pulling out the small bottle of Tylenol, I remove the cap and pour the contents into my hand. Counting out two, I roll them between my fingers before tossing them into my mouth. The warm water beside me proves handy, washing them down.

Letting out a yawn, my eyes water, telling me I need more sleep. Driving three hours in a tiny, cramped car with my mother and sister is horrible enough. I can't be tired. I need my strength. My mom isn't too bad, but we never see eye to eye. Ever since that night, our relationship has been rocky. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I'm a constant disappointment. She loves me, but I wish she'd show it more. She'll be happy when I'm gone. This was her idea after all, a way to get rid of me without feeling guilty. 

But my sister is a pain in the ass. She's mom's perfect child, who does no wrong. We constantly argue and fight about everything. It's hard to believe it wasn't always this way. Actually, as kids, we were inseparable. But as we grew older and changed, we drifted apart. Sometimes I think she hates me, but won't admit it. I don't know why my mom insists on bringing her with us. It's not like she'll be any help. Perhaps she doesn't want to be alone with me, afraid we might have to communicate.

Whatever her reasoning is, I need to quit stressing and go to sleep. My alarms are set to go off in a few hours. Snuggling back down, I pull the comforter over my head, creating total darkness. Before long, the sound of my soft snores can be heard.