THE HARBOUR [EDITING]

Murphy's Law pt.2 - Edited

AUGUST 19TH 11 PM

Marcella opens her eyes gradually, her head is pounding, her throat is dry, and her neck throbbing. She brings her hands up to her neck, weakly messaging it, trying to put two and two together.

Someone had just tried to kill her, and they'd come very close- if they'd applied more pressure to her throat, she'd be dead. Like her brother. "Wes," she whimpers-sobbing into her palm. She plops herself up, careful not to be seen. She notes she's in the back of a pick-up, and her attacker is nowhere to be seen. For all she knows, he might be right in the driver's seat.

She squints-looking around wearily. He's somewhere. But not here. She lets out a sigh of relief. However, she's not out of the woods yet. Acknowledging her need to get away- she examines her options. Taking her car is out of the question. He'll notice- he might be in there. She can't take this one. What if the key isn't even in the ignition?
She'll have to make a run for it. Just up to the intersection, then she can hitchhike or find a phone booth and call the police.

She hops out of the truck, careful not to make any noise and runs- runs as fast as her legs can carry her, not looking back. She'll run until she passes out if she has to. All that's on her mind right now is surviving the night.

PAST 12 PM

The streets are empty, and there's hardly anyone driving around, much less walking. Marcella places her hands on her knees- heaving and wheezing from exhaustion. She does not know how long she's been running, and her body is too weak to keep going. It's the middle of the night, and she doesn't know where she is. "This was a bad idea," she says between short breaths. She is just outside of Flint- on a sidewalk twenty minutes away from the town square. But Marcella does not know that. The streetlights are dim and flicker every so often. She looks ahead and sees nothing but more road- more concrete, more distance. She sighs a heavy sigh.

Marcella had been just about ready to give up when she noticed a bright light behind her. As the light nears and intensifies, she hears the hum of an engine. Relieved, her heart leaps. I'm saved! She thinks- running onto the road, waving her hands around in an attempt to get the drivers' attention. The vehicle slows down as it approaches. Unable to control it, she begins to sob. It'll all be over soon, this nightmare- She'll ask to use their phone, and everything will be alright.

He drives away from the scene, his heart is racing. "She won't be happy about this," he says out loud. "Fuck" he slams his palms onto the steering wheel. He told her it was done and now this. . .he has screwed up royally.

How could she still be alive? He'd been so sure she was dead. Did she pretend? He grinds his teeth in frustration- nodding his head and deciding silently not to tell her she got away. Even though he couldn't have foreseen the girl arriving at the house, much less running away. Yeah, none of this is his fault. Daisy will have to understand that.

But what if the girl goes to the police? Damn it, you're the police, he reminds himself, speeding up unconsciously. Being on the inside could be his advantage. He can fix this if he finds her- make her go away like he is doing with Wes. He grimaces at his thoughts. Twenty-four hours ago, he would've never even dreamt of being dirty. Of covering up a murder and killing someone. It's unbelievable how things change so quickly- is that what it's like for actual criminals? He thinks- does everything flip on its head without warning for them too? And is that what he is now, a criminal? He shakes his head in denial. No- he mentally affirms. His actions, however, premeditated aren't who he really is. This is just. . . It's just what you do for your family. He wonders if Wes shared the same sentiments- if he'd done all this for family. He unwillingly feels a strange sense of understanding and pity for the man lying at the back of his truck.