Short Story: Run To Him

Silence carried up to her room. Her back was to the door into her bedroom. She had wheeled her desk chair to face her bed and be level with it. She had a cardboard box open in front of her. The lid was top to the bedding, a box of bullets placed on top of it. a Revolver without the ammunition magazine inserted sat on the bed, taunting her. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what she was about to do. Her hands moved fast.

She grabbed the box of bullets and started to fill the magazine with as many as the magazine would hold. She checked it was securely filled and slid it into the body of the Revolver with a click. She pulled the safety off and stood from her chair, listening for any movements. She carefully pulled her room door open and tiptoed downstairs.

‘They’re dealt with, sir. They won’t be troubling us anytime soon.’ A man spoke into a mobile phone in the living room.

She peeked round, checking for how many targets there were. She could see three men, all with their own weapons. She tested her trainers and found they were secure and ready for anything.

‘No, we haven’t found it. Sir, they had a daughter, a teenage one by the look of the pictures.’ The man was alarmed as he spotted a picture on the mantelpiece.

She took a deep breath and pointed the Revolver at the man on the phone.

‘DOWN ON THE GROUND!’ She yelled.

The men turned in shock. They hadn’t been expecting her to be there.

‘Like you’ll-‘ The man who had been on the phone started.

She shot one of the men in the shoulder knocking him to the ground quickly. The other two men were horrified.

‘Sir, I’ll call you back.’ The man got off the phone.

She kept the Revolver trained on the man putting his phone away.

‘Tough little thing, aren’t ya?’ He tried to patronize her.

‘Weapons on the ground, all of them.’ She demanded, authority seeping out of her words.

The two men did as she asked, but the man who had been on the phone tried to shoot her. She moved and shot him in the shoulder. She shot the other man in the collarbone, fracturing it. She ran into the living room and grabbed the backpack stuffed behind the sofa. Without a second glance she yanked the backpack on and ran out the house. She hid the gun in one of her pockets and kept running until she couldn’t hear anyone or any vehicles following her. She walked under the treeline until she reached the main road. She hailed a taxi and got in.

‘Where to, love?’ The taxi driver asked.

‘Nearest international airport please.’ She said.

‘Going on holiday?’ He asked, taking off.

‘Something like that.’ She shrugged.

She looked out the window, knowing she wasn’t likely to see the place she called home for a long time.

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