Before the Sun

Chapter Fourteen- That Wouldn't Be Very Professional Of Us

The weapon sits in my palm like a block of frigid ice. It doesn't belong there- with me. Violence isn't me. Weapons and I don't see eye to eye. Firearms are for my father and my mother, for people who aren't afraid to pull the trigger. Not me.

Nikolai doesn't spare me a second to protest his departure further, slipping out the back door and softly nudging it closed behind him. I watch him through the broken window, flakes of defeated glass impairing my vision. He glides up a small flight of stairs, five steps leading to a large, forest green door. His figure slips behind the oak; I count to eleven before he reappears, a set of car keys in his hand. His stance is defensive coming out of the building, shoulders squared and rigid, but his body is loose and agile, a pool of easiness. Snowy eyes filter through the horizon before him, sifting through the cars and houses, searching for any abnormalities.

He meets my stare as he nears the car, tugging open the door I sit by. A hand wraps around my upper arm, gently pulling me to my feet. He struggles to keep his attention away from our surroundings for too long, not happy with the lack of safety our location brings us. His fingers remain firmly swirled around my arm.

"Come on."

Nikolai breaths, guiding me to a near car parked down the street. It's dark grey, freshly cleaned and rather new. An inked hand pulls the passenger side door open, the man behind me ushering me inside. I await Nikolai to join me, staring at him as he drops into his seat. I really look at him. The gash above his eye, an open wound leaking blood down the length of his face. His bottom lip is slightly swelled, a darker shade than its usual pink. You can tell the cavity of his right eye will become dark with a bruise soon, the agitation and pain evident in the slowly yellowing skin. My fingertips find his jaw, body stretched over the centre console. I turn his face, stilling the moment. He's caught in a robotic state, his movements rapid yet calculated. I gently grasp the fragment of glass impaled in his forehead, plucking it from out of his skin. He winces, a bead of blood emptying itself from the small nook the glass came from. My thumb swipes the ruby liquid from his eye line, making sure it doesn't falter his sight.

"Thanks."

He whispers. I nod, settling into my seat. I find my nails instinctively gnawing at my lips, pulling and nipping at the delicate skin.

"Whose car are we in?"

I ask, searching the interior of the vehicle. The back seat is littered with a few discarded fast food bags, coffee cups and a rucksack. Hanging from the rear view mirror is a sweet smelling air freshener and a pink pom pom.

"Kotas."

Nikolai states, nudging the car out of its parking spot. My mouth forms an 'o' shape and I gulp down a bubble of confusion.

"Is this theft?"

I query, a fake nonchalant tone lacing my words

"Possibly. He'll get over it though."

A moment of silence engulfs us. Droplets of rain begin to patter against the windshield, a repetitive, droning thrum.

"Was that your house?"

I ask, watching as the green door becomes smaller and smaller in the wing mirror.

"Kota and I's."

Nikolai confirms. We come to stop at an intersection, litters of pedestrians lining the street like mechanical ants, cars similar to ours bordering us.

Home is left, but Nikolai turns right.

I move to the edge of my seat, eyes squinting with misunderstanding.