Intoxicated

IV. Pain

I breathe heavily, trying to calm my nerves.

My back is pushed against a wall, and I'm crouched, so that the bins cover my lanky figure.

Through the gaps between the bins, I see specks of Stella's black hair. She comes closer to where I'm hiding, a gang of about five others following closely behind her.

I stare at each one intently.

She is one of the three girls, one has bright red hair that's fading, the other has shaved her head.

I look at the red-head: she wears a strapless, tight-fitting black top and very short shorts paired with combat boots - like Stella's.

I wonder if she's able to jump and run in clothes like those – unlike Stella's, it looks impractical.

She's white, but not pale or sickly like Stella.

She doesn't seem to be the girl who would run around in sandy territories.

But I guess I shouldn't make assumptions or judgements so harshly.

My eyes shift to the girl on the other side of Stella. Her shaved head and leather combo intimidate me. Her leather jacket is zipped up and her jeans are as dark as Stella's eyes. Also like everyone else in the gang, she dons combat boots.

They start talking, and I - naturally - listen.

A boy, with black hair starts talking, "There's not much going on right now."

"Which is why," Says another guy, with his hood covering his face, "We shouldn't do anything right now."

"That doesn't make sense," Another guy, with a shaved head, next to the first guy. "We can strike now."

"And have no alibi, no distraction, no time to get away?" The girl with leather sighs, picking at her nails.

"Krystal's right."  Stella says, "It's too dangerous." Stella nods at the girl with caramel skin, and her shaved head nods in return.

"All due respect, Ember," the hooded guy speaks, looking at Stella but addressing someone else – the redhead, I assume. "But it's always dangerous."

The girl with leather, Krystal: "Dangerous like we get shot or lose an arm-"

"-Or both." Chips in the redhead.

"Not dangerous as in we die." Krystal finishes.

The guy with the black hair scoffs, "Who said we won't die any moment, who said we won't die right here, right now?"

I notice that Stella starts shifting, the redhead's breath becomes irregular and even the other men seem to be on edge.

It seemed surreal, but now, now I realise – we're in peril, every single one of us.

When we drove here, a barren landscape with nothing but sheds, Stella said: "Make no sound, or you'll get shot." She smiled, and I passed it off as a joke.

But now - it isn't unlikely that someone, anyone, can load their sniper and blow my head off if they realise I am here.

I look at each person.

They are still talking, arguing, whether or not they should strike.

I won't pretend I'm not curious, but danger lurks, and - even though it is shaming to admit- I am too scared to learn the details.

The less I know the better, right?

Wrong. You want to know. Every single fibre in your body cowers with fright but you are still urging yourself to know. To know everything.