Providence

The King of Hearts

  This short story was based on a picture found on Google images. I do not own this picture, nor do I know who does.   

The King of Hearts

The color of the bag containing my target. I needed to remember exactly what it looked like. After all, I wasn't the only one who used this abandoned theatre as my drop off point, and the client was very adamant I get the right delivery.

The howling wind banged at the walls, reverberating in the empty hall, hugging me with its chilling sound. My heart raced as I slowly made my way up the once clean and colorful aisle, counting the rows as I went.

13, 14. 15, 16!

Row 16, seat 216. That was the agreement. My eyes flitted around as I approached seat 216. Even in this desolate state, this theatre was beautiful. The walls were made of a beautiful polished wood, now scarred. The sound booth in the back, once such a technological treasure, was dark, the tinted windows broken and the electronic equipment long since looted. I should know- I stole some of it.

The booth looked over the rows of seats- almost 800 of them- half of which were missing or torn to shreds. The rest were stained and broken by years of neglect.

And then there was the stage. The huge, gorgeous stage with the black, red stained floor, collapsed orchestra pit, and closed velvet curtains. They were the nicest part of the entire place. There were no stains or tears in them. I guess no one wanted to go up onto that stage. Not when the imprint on the floor was still there, the smell of blood still lingering over it. The mark of death still held sway over that stage.

I blinked away the gory memory, and turned my attention to searching the seat. Underneath the cushion- which was hanging on by a prayer- was a bag. I let go of a breathe I didn't realize I was holding. He had held through. My fingers itched at the thought of the money I'd make off of this delivery.

"To be, or not to be! That, is the question."

The sudden voice, so loud and close in the quiet hall, was a shock to my already unstable heart. It nearly stopped at the thought that the cops had found me. At least I didn't drop the bag. If luck was on my side, he hadn't seen it, and I could play this off as a dare or something.

I turned slowly and smoothly, a smile already plastered on my face and the bag hidden behind my back.

There wasn't anyone behind me. Weird. I could have sworn the voice had come from close by.

"Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer." The voice spoke again. I traced the ringing voice back to the stage, where someone stood facing me.

He was young, the boy on the stage. I could tell that now. Closer to my age, maybe a little older. So.. in his twenties? Seemed like it. He had an angular face with dark eyes and judgmental eyebrows. It was hard to see details from here, but his hair all but made up for it. It was a bright shade of red that darkened at the roots. Definitely a dye job. I mean, what else could it be? 

He had on a navy blue t-shirt and black pants, which was pretty normal. His accessories, however, were pretty weird. He had on a dark colored cape with a chain to keep it on. Around his neck and his left wrist were matching collars, with a chain linking the two. On his right arm, however, was a tattoo. From here it looked like a dark blob, which wasn't much help. If I got closer, maybe I could see it better. I dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way I was getting closer to this guy. 

All in all, he gave an 'actor' kind of vibe, with his commanding figure and broad build. Thankfully, he didn't seem to realize I was here. His gaze was focused on the roof of the theater, his eyes wide. I slowly started my way toward the back doors, ready to get out of this place.

"What's this? My main lady does flee with her prize! Why my dear Rachel, must you leave the show so early?"

My blood ran cold at my name. I had barely glanced away from him for a second, but when I turned, he was staring at me, his dark brown eyes appraising me.

"Who- who are you? How do you know my name?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. After all, what's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He sighed softly, his voice lifting and falling with the melody of acting.

"you still haven't answered my questions!" sweat trickled down my back and coated my fingers.

"I am merely known as the King of Hearts. But you can call me Warden. Come, can you tell me what happened up here?" he gestured toward the indent in the stage, the chain on his wrist rattling menacingly.

"You're telling me you don't know?" he stared at him in confusion, but I was still very much wary of this creepy stranger. "A few years ago, they were performing Romeo and Juliet here. There was an... accident. A metal cage fell and killed Juliet."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, remembering the expression on my sister's face. She was truly Juliet in that split second before I pulled the wrong lever.

"They shut this place down after that." My vision blurred as feelings I thought I had come to terms with years ago came rushing back. A sob escaped me as the pain seemed to chain me to the ground.

What was happening to me?

Warden tutted softly. "When sorrows come," he sighed, "they come not single spies, but in battalions."

"What's happening to me?" I gasped at the sudden emotional outpour.

You killed her. It was all your fault. Why wasn't it you. You can't even bring yourself to go and look at it.

The thoughts were mine, but they weren't completely my doing. I sobbed, the invisible chains tightening around my heart. "The guilt, it's drowning you." Warden grinned at me. "Isn't it?"

"Ju-Julie!" I shrieked.

"Do you want to come see her?" he said softly, his voice carrying over to where I stood, hunched over in pain and guilt.

I really wanted to see her. After I thought that, the pain seemed to leave, filling me with a desire to get onto that stage. My legs, stiff with disuse, stumbled of their own accord toward the stage.

Before I knew it I was standing across from him. My eyes ran over his figure, taking in more details, trying to avoid the sight at my feet. There was a heart sown into the bottom edge of his cape. The tattoo was of a bird. His eyes were brown. They stared at me, moving slowly down. My eyes followed until I was staring at the dent on the ground. 

The blood was still there.

I screamed, tears streaming down my face. I was still screaming when the chain on Warden's hand stretched across the breach and wrapped around my neck. I was still crying when the chain lifted me off the ground. I was still gasping for air when he picked up the bag I had dropped in my struggle to remain on ground.

"Out of the jaws of death." Warden sighed, glancing at me before inspecting the contents of the bag. I didn't even know what was in there. And I would never find out.

"This'll do. Till we meet again in hell, Rachel."

As the air left my lungs and the world went black, my eyes fluttered to the floor beneath me, where my sister had been crushed because of my ignorance. The vision of the dried blood seemed to call out me, becoming all I could see.

Red.