𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 by A.P.Mary

1.

~
Life has lost meaning to me a long time ago, and to me, I've stopped living for myself a long time ago.

"Hurry up, police is ten minutes away, and they're coming for us. I'm not getting killed because of your lazy ass." Fuck, we're really leaving. I watch my reflection in the mirror as I massage my temples. Long wigs are difficult to put on, plus I hate wearing them, to which adds to this torture. Minutes seem to fly by as I load two pieces of luggage at a time into the van while blonde wig strands keep getting caught in my mouth as well as my eyes.

"Five minutes, hurry the fuck up, and take those four left at once," she screams as she starts the engine of the truck.

"I think you're overestimating my skills here." I scream back, but as she glares at me; I try to defy the laws of physics and start dragging the four suitcases left before sirens can be heard from afar. I can feel the sweat on my forehead, and my arms ache from the constant lifting; I jump in and slam the door shut. As we speed down, I take a deep breath and try to ignore the nagging feeling that we may have forgotten something important.

With Nisha pulling a Fast and Furious move by rotating the whole van without touching any of the cars around us, we drive away without being seen. I look at her face and see her muscles relaxing.

We're out.

~

"You're annoying; you played this song three times in a row, and I pretended all those times that I liked it, can I?" I go to change the song, but her hand slaps mine before I reach the aux cable. Her hand goes to her wig, snatching it right off, and her perfect braided hair is now making her look like she's cosplaying Medusa. "Nice hair"

"Don't you insult my music taste or my hair; I suffered three hours of Amy Winehouse last time; now it's time to listen to my music." Her left hand is outside the window, and I sigh as I run my fingers through the plastic wig, pulling it off just to see my bird's nest in the passenger mirror. I take a deep breath and comb my hair before she turns my own words against me.

We stop as the lights turn red, and as I open my mouth to beg her once more to let me take charge of the playlist, she turns with a serious face and asks me, "Do you think this plan will work? because I'm starting to doubt it, and we aren't even near the airport. " I stare at her, baffled.

"They gave us an ultimatum, we refused it together, and what has been done cannot be undone. We are in a"give or I'll take it myself" and "take care of the situation before it takes you." situation.  She remains hesitant. "We are on the same level in terms of what constitutes power, and over that, it's not just us two. They are not members of a mafia, and we are not in a romantic comedy. As I finish speaking, she appears to unwind, and the light changes to green.

~

The flight was the worst experience I've ever had, between kids screaming and my brain cells committing suicide, we landed safely, and now we're in front of a house in the middle of a forest, about sixty kilometers away from Venice and next to a small town of, I think, a thousand people at most. I take a deep breath and step out of the car, feeling the cool breeze on my face and smelling the fresh scent of pine trees. It's a welcome change from the chaos of the airport.

I throw the luggage on the dry grass underneath me, and I run to embrace the one waiting for us at the entrance: Blaise. Blaise's face lights up as we approach him, and he greets us with open arms. We take in the fresh air and peaceful surroundings, grateful for the escape from the hustle of the city.