Pink Walls

Day Four [Part II]

"You don't have to look convincing."

6:30 a.m.

Thick red blood dripped down the cut over the man's brows, trickling over the bridge of his nose and streaming into his left eye.

His hungry gasp for air, strangled and silent but obvious enough through the small window in the exit door separating us, annoyed me.

I watched him claw at his throat, desperation present in his eyes in the form of unshed tears, waiting for the perfect moment to open the door.

I found it when he staggered forward, no longer able to carry his body weight as his brain came to terms with its oxygen-deprived state.

I leaned my shoulder against the door and it opened with a click.

His face smashed against the glass with a muffled thud, smearing it with tears, blood and spit as he slid to the floor.

I let go of the door's handle, flexing my fingers against the cool metal and staring at my new leather gloves. For some reason, I preferred the ones Alex gave me. Maybe I had gotten used to wearing white gloves; gotten used to seeing them stained with blood.

I took a step back and Daniel walked out from behind me to enter the stairwell.

My gaze drifted to the exit sign above our heads, my shoulders aching at the thought of having to drag another body down the hallway. How many times have we done this today?

When I looked back down, Daniel was crouched in front of the hitman, his crossed arms resting on his knees.

He tilted his head in my direction and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. "Looks like a sensible guy."

I used the handkerchief sticking out of my pocket to wipe the blood dripping down my cheek. It wasn't mine. "How does frothing at the mouth look sensible to you?"

He looked up at me, a suggestive air about him as a grin slowly stretched his glossy lips. "What do you think?"

I took a deep breath, holding a hand to my ribs when a sharp ache lanced through my side.

I ignored it and focused on the hitman in front of me. "Is he dead?"

"Shouldn't be." Daniel nudged him with his boot, not an ounce of care present in his voice. "You cut his face up pretty badly though."

"It looks worse than it is, most head wounds do."

I stepped into the stairwell and let the door shut behind me with a soft bang. Daniel shifted away from me, leaning his back against the railing to create more space.

"You two look about the same size," he mused, tapping a rhythm on the floor with his left heel. "He might have won in a fair fight."

"We don't have time for a fair fight." I shrugged off my jacket and undid the first two buttons on my shirt, rolling up my sleeves and reaching down to lift the man up by his armpits.

It was a necessary chore that left me breathless but I tried not to remain in the moment, dulling my mind until I was just a spectre watching myself bear the pain.

Daniel pushed the door open then stepped aside to let me drag the man away.

It didn't take long for me to reach the storage closet I had stuffed the rest of his 'colleagues' into but at the same time I wondered whether an eternity had passed.

"Good job, Mr Bodyguard," Daniel's cheerful voice forced me back to the present.

I grimaced and leaned against the door jamb, examining my handiwork. "Thanks."