Unfortunate

Chapter 3

   "Alright, that's it for today fellas" called a very relaxed John as they ended another long rehearsal. A few weeks had gone by since the strange occurance with the man. Now it was forgotten amongst the chatter and laughter of the four boys. Christmas day was celebrated just as any holiday, with food and alcohol. It was a merry time, you could say it was untraditional even. The lads parted ways, John and George to the bar and Ringo to their hotel.

   Paul was the last one in the studio; he'd been there a few extra hours practicing to himself. He buckled his guitar case and adjusted the strap over his shoulder, almost quiet as a mouse. He strolled over to the door, taking a look at the equipment before flipping the light switch off. Tonight must have been the coldest night all month; trees were covered in a thick, sharp frost of white, the streets doused in ice, and a light snow fell quietly in the still air. Paul took a sharp breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and slowly made his way towards the hotel. "Cold, cold, cold" were the only words wafting through his mind as he took quick drags from his cigarette in an attempt to keep the climate away.

   All of a sudden, Paul was sprawled on the ground, his guitar case skidding away from him. He tried to regain his footing, but he was winded badly. It was as if a truck had barreled into him. Before he could get up, a wire was around his neck, choking him further. Noises of a confused and cornered animal escaped Paul's throat as his eyes scanned his surroundings for something that could help him. They lay on his guitar case that was just out of reach.

   Paul threw his body onto the road, one hand outstretched towards the guitar case while the other clung to the wire constricting him. His fingernails scratched frantically at the icy road, fingertips a fraction of a centimeter from reach. With his last amount of strength, he managed to grab the strap of his case and haul it behind him. His attempt succeeded, followed by a "shit" from his captor. Paul scrambled away, inviting huge gulps of cold air into his lungs. The damage done to him from smoking didn't help him recooperate any quicker. Finally, he got to his feet and began to run away.

   Too late. The masked man grabbed Paul's ankle, causing him to fall hard on his face. Warm blood oozed down Paul's face, dripping down his chin. He was flipped around in a matter of seconds and pinned to the ground. Defeated and completely out of breath, Paul continued to struggle. "You fucking bastard, get off of me" he shouted repeatedly, shaking his arms and legs furiously. He managed to free one of his arms and punched the man square on the jaw, causing him to fall away.

   "You'll pay for this" snarled the man in black, screaming before he attacked Paul once more. They quarraled, slamming each other's backs against buildings and throwing fists fast as lightning. "I've had enough of this" gasped the villain. "I'll fucking give you eno-" His sentence was cut short by the sound of a blade being flipped open and the tearing of clothes. It was dead quiet, not a sound to the now violent night. Snow continued to gently coat the roads, piling up on trees and road signals.

   Paul slowly looked down, and before his very eyes was a blade lodged into his stomach, followed by a gloved hand gripped tightly onto the hilt of the weapon. Paul coughed, his breath hitching in his throat. The man slowly pulled out the nearly seven-inch blade, blood pulsing from the wound, staining the young man's shirt crimson red. Paul sank to his knees, thoughts whirling in his head. "The ground makes my knees feel cold" he thought dizzily. The man retracted his hand and this time it went into Paul's chest.

   On the third time, which went into his ribs, Paul grabbed the man's hand weakly. The devil shoved Paul backwards, causing him to hit the ground with a thud, his head hitting against the pavement. He heard steps walking away from him and then they were gone. His breathing was shallow and hoarse, blood silently spilling from his mouth and down the side of his pale, shivering face. Snowflakes fell atop of Paul, landing lightly on his eyelashes. Birds fluttered across the sky to nearby telephone wires, huddling together for warmth.