Skin

7

I remained motionless at the door as these words passed right through me. The voice was all too familiar, and its familiarity was off putting. I turned, my jacket still hanging halfway off my arms as my body twisted towards the direction of the voice.

Sitting at my dining room table was my previous accomplice Chris, whom I thought I would never see the face of again.

"What the fuck, Chris?" My voice raised as my opening line progressed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Thought I should come check up on you," he started, looking over my frozen body. "Thought I should warn you."

"Warn me?"

"They're going to find you, Valerie." Chris began to stand, the chair barely made a noise as it went back. "I won't be the one to tell them where you are, but if I could find you this swiftly -- They can find you even faster."

With these words I finally moved. I dropped my jacket to the floor as I walked over to him, pulling out the chair opposite to Chris. My heart sunk as he took his seat again, placing his elbows on the table as he studied my reaction.

"Valerie," Chris started, begging for me to look up at him.

I sat there, studying the grains of the wood as my mind ran blank. From across, Chris swung his hand down slapping the surface of the table, sending shockwaves to my end. The impact of his hit was enough to shake me, bringing my eyes up to finally look at him.

"You can't hide from the leader of a powerful drug cartel, and his apostles." He spoke, leaning in towards me as if telling a secret. "You can't run away from your past."

"I can try."

"You'll never be fast enough."

Chris wasn't wrong. Although, I knew my capabilities stretch far beyond metaphorical running.

"Did you come here to mock me?" I mimicked his posture, leaning forward.

"I came here to forewarn you, idiot." He squinted. "You never did wrong by me, the least I can do is warn you that your life is endangered."

"Like I didn't already know." I sighed, leaning back and closing my eyes.

My hands took to my hair, running through it in a stressed manner, unaware of any other coping mechanism.

My regrets followed me like a lost puppy, and never seemed to find an alternative route. I was stuck, constantly remembering the biggest mistake I ever made, one of which drove me out of my own city, and forced me to change my name --

Being involved with the leader of an international drug cartel, and ultimately, ending up working for him.

Immediately upon the anxiety of my job, which paid me an immaculate salary and allowed me to travel all over the world, finally made its uncertainty and threats relevant -- I decided I had no other choice but to leave.

When police officers caught a suitcase filled with money in my possession, I decided not to lie, regardless of the oath myself and all others involved had to take.

I told the authorities everything.

Or so it was, in theory, everything. However, what I told them was far from the entire truth, I kept some important details, such as Chris, to myself. The men who worked alongside me, who's emotions of fear and anxiety reflected mine, were left out.

My exposé came with the consequence of living in fear. The power of the people I had once been under was something I feared, even with them being behind bars. I, however, lucked out and obtained no jail time for my extensive cooperation with the police.

Getting off easy made me fear for the future. I possibly would have felt differently if it weren't for the reach of my previous partner and employer, and the amount of power he possessed even from behind bars.

I was terrified, but confident in my abilities.

"I'll be alright, Chris." I assured him, finally sitting up. "I know what I'm doing."

"I'll keep an eye out, for you, Valerie -- or should I say, Phoebe." He winked, playfully.

"Thank you," I replied with confidence.

Chris stood up, without me accompanying him. He turned towards the door, taking a few steps before stopping and walking back to me. As he stepped towards me he took his right hand into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, for a moment I was unsure of his actions.

He slowly brought out the object from the shadows of the black lining. In his fingers he held a gun, lightly sitting near his palm, its exterior shone in the light of the dim dining room chandelier, glistening into my eye for a brief moment.

"You might need this," He spoke, holding it towards me. "Just in case."

I accepted, silently, as I reached out for the grip of the pistol. The magazine was loaded, curtesy of Chris, and the feeling of a gun in my hands after so long was suddenly foreign and uncomfortable.

I didn't let my discomfort shade the fact that I was seriously offered a weapon for protection, the modes of revenge that may be plotted against me were now more realistic than ever.

"Thank you, again, Chris."

"Anything for you." Chris nodded at me before finally showing himself out.

With the click of the door shutting, I remained motionless again, and looked down at the gun. The silence of my house only made this whole concept more real, and the gun in my hand was definitely real.

I finally snapped out of my daze, and looked away from the gun in my hands. With a light hand I carried the gun, and brought it up to my room, almost tripping on the jacket I left on the floor by the stairs.

I decided to place it under one of the pillows on my bed, knowing I would never sleep on that side anyways.

For now, I am safe, but my current situation is haunting.