Too Hot to Breathe

Red Shorts, Red Hands

To be honest, I just splattered the sunscreen on my skin and didn't even rub it in. I was just a white stain, laying on a towel, amidst the sand. White on grey on yellow. A beautiful scene.

I looked at my phone. It was 12:32 PM. I had nothing to eat, but luckily, my breakfast wasn't exactly the soft type. I was always a fan of England's ways: their packed breakfast, the stereotypical politeness, their customs... Everything about it was just great. You know how you always want what you don't have? It just makes everyone seem like a jealous child that will only play with someone else's toys. But it's not that bad of a comparison. I'm an American, but I don't exactly like America to be honest. If only I could live in Britain... And I would be coming packed with a jolly good accent too.

Still thinking about this, I started drawing in the sand. I was a creative person, but definetly not an artistic one. I drawed an island... Just the outline of some rocks, sand, palmtrees and a calm ocean. That's where I truly wanted to be. Isolated, in an isolated place. But comparing my house with the beach where I was, the beach offered me more isolation, since nobody would ever approach me, or at least I thought. After a nice nap, eating street food that I bought after an hour, a bit of drawing, a nice dive into the sea and an even bigger nap, I was approached by someone.

He woke me up, kicking me with his feet gently. His skin was darker than mine, but it wasn't exactly tanned. I tried looking at his face while blocking the sun with my hands. I could only look at his red shorts.

- James Atton? - He asked, on a paranoid voice. I just wanted to relax.

- Sorry, buddy. - I said, doing a fake texan accent. - You're looking for someone else. 

- Are you sure? - He got cockier. - Because I went by your house and Hannah said you would be here. - I froze in that moment. I had no idea who he was by his voice and he had been in my house. But I remained calm and kept my charade going:

- No idea who Hannah is... 

- Pretty sure you do. - He unlocked the phone he was holding on his right hand and showed me the screen, with an article regarding a case I had worked on, and my face on it. - Now, can I talk with you?

- Doesn't seem like I have that big of a choice. - He calmed down.

- First of all, stop being like this. - He pointed to the napkin I had brought from the street vendor, that was on the floor. - Mother Nature needs our help...

- Were you sent by her to talk with me? Because I may not seem busy, because I'm not, but still... I would love if you could just leave me alone. - He laughed.

- Oh man, what people still need to learn about the environment... Don't pollute and don't waste resources is the ol' song. But there is so much more since don't turn on A.C.'s, don't make... 

- I'm sorry to interrumpt your beautiful lecture, Mr...

- Yeah, I can see that you don't know who I am from the way you are talking to me. Names can be ignored from now... I know yours, which is the most important part. - The man was scaring the hell out of me. I looked at his face. He had short spiky brown hair, and brown eyes. His eyebrows were thick and made him seem like an angry superior. He had no mustache, but his beard was poorly shaved, with a few hairs sticking from out of his face. - Anyway, no, I'm not here to give you a lesson about what humanity is doing wrong.

- A bit melodramatic, don't you think? 

- Can you just shut up for a second? - He said. Anger was growing in his voice. I nodded. - I came to you, and specifically to you, because I want to know what would happen if I turned myself and my partners in for a double homicide. 

- What do you mean?

- I just want to know if my sentence would be reduced if I confessed my crimes instead of waiting for the Police to find out about them.

- What crimes? - He sat on the sand beside me and continued, ignoring me.

- Because I sure as hell have a guilty conscience over getting my hands dirty. It was supposed to go all according to plan... He said that there was no way that the plan could fail. But there was... There always is.

- Look, buddy, I can only help you if you tell me about it. - He looked into the horizon and after a long pause he said:

- Fine. Meet me tomorrow here again and I will take you to somewhere safe so we can talk about this. 4 P.M. here tomorrow, remember. - He said, getting up and leaving.

I stayed thinking for a moment. He was a criminal and he had been in my house! Was Hannah ok? I looked back trying to search him. He was gone.