A ladder of smoke crawled from her thin, pink lips and spiraled towards the ceiling, fogging her vision for a moment. Her porcelain cheeks hollowed in another inhalation, she held her breath for a moment, letting the biting sensation fill her chest. Closing her eyes, she exhaled with a smile. The girl sat up, the mattress crunching beneath her and the sheets crinkling above her moving legs. Smothering the cigarette in the ash tray beside her bed, the girl swung her legs over the side and placed them on the floor. Her tiny hands raked through her dark hair and down around her neck. Resting her collarbone against her propped hands, she stared out her apartment window. The ivory curtain flipped up against the wind, revealing New York's slum city. Her eyes traced the skyline and the clouds, her thoughts drifting away with them.
A sudden clink in the bathroom behind her awakened her and she remembered where she was. Pushing herself from the bed, the girl walked over to her clothes, which she had thrown over the back of the chair, and pulled them on. She zipped up her hoodie and slipped on her sneakers, her eyes periodically looking up at the lit bathroom. She hadn't gone to sleep alone last night.
After she had gathered her few belongings and placed them in a knapsack by the door, she crawled back onto the bed and latched her eyes onto the cracked bathroom door. Her glossy chestnut eyes stared intently at the door as she calculated her next intentions. Carefully, she observed her surroundings, locating the front door, the empty vase on the glass coffee table, the CD disc, and her knapsack. She passed a warm tongue across her lips and reached for another cigarette from her jacket pocket.
A deep-set voice lilted from the bathroom at the same time she activated her lighter. "Hey, help me with this tie, would you?"
Clicking the lighter shut and inhaling a sharp drag, the girl slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom. She kicked the end of her cigarette to the other side of her mouth with her tongue and entered the white bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and examined the large man struggling with his striped tie. Noticing her in the reflection of the mirror, the man gave her a condescending raise of the eyebrows. "I've got five minutes, can you help me with this now?"
The girl's lids fell slowly and she pulled the cigarette from her mouth. She blew a line of smoke in the direction of the man and gave him a simper. She refused to obey him because she knew very well he would get angry with her. He had proven to her that he disdained women; only seeing them as an item for his own advantages. She knew this about him simply because of how he expected her to speak to him over their drinks the night before as well as how he spoke about women when he got a little tipsy. He disdained them.
Knowing the only way to gain power over him, the girl gave him a defiant shift of her shoulders and disappeared into the bedroom. She heard him curse loudly and the clattering of a toothbrush struck the tiled floor. Taking a long drag from her cigarette, she went over to her backpack and opened the front pocket. She pulled out a stun gun, powered it up, and then turned around and fired just as he was about to yell at her. His body stopped from the impact and his eyes rolled back. With his mouth still open, he landed, face first, onto her carpet.
The girl smirked. She was indeed small and slender for her size (no one ever believed her age against her face), but she had been trained to use her size to her advantage. Walking over to the body, she squatted from the waist and slipped her arms under his. Lifting the upper half of his limp body, she dragged him to the front of the bed. Knowing he wouldn't wake up for awhile, for the electrical had struck him in the chest, the girl pulled out her phone from her backpack and dialed a number.
In a flat, gritty voice, she said, "I got him." Nodding to the reply on the other end, she hung up and began packing up her few belongings. The apartment she lived in was, in fact, not her apartment. It was a decoy location set up by the organization called The Stand: Releasing Modern-Day Slavery, a branch of the Department of Homeland Security. Since she worked for a governmental-based organization, she purposely was assigned, or moved, from place to place, never really having a permanent home.
Before leaving, she went over to the man's pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. He had kept it on him since they had met; not once letting her have access to it— until now. She glanced down at the phone and saw a five digit password lock as well as a fingerprint scan. She pursed her lips at the inconvenience. Leaving the code cracking to someone more experienced, she slipped it into her pocket and walked out the front door. She locked it behind her and turned her face to the blustery wind. It bit at her cheeks and tormented her chapped lips. The girl tossed her old cigarette and lit up a new one as she waited for the police and her team.
The girl had purposely moved to the slums to continue a series of private investigations that she had been successfully doing for years. Though, she hadn't been doing it all alone. She had a partner once—her husband. But he had mysteriously disappeared three years ago in 2011 and declared a "missing person" early 2014. Feeling the biting sensation in her chest, the girl's heart became warm with memories of him.
He had been a man above men; kind, thoughtful, steadfast, and intelligent. His eyes were piercing orbs of blue wonderment, leaving whoever looked into them, enchanted. His face was rough and weather-beaten, but sculpted with years of wisdom. She remembered his rough hands on her bare shoulders as he held her close in their most intimate moments, the way he whispered her name between the kisses he placed on her face.
She loved him more than she had loved anyone, and she knew he must've felt the same for her. The two had met at The Stand when she was nineteen on a small assignment. Looking at least twelve years younger than he was, the girl thought there was no harm in singling him out. When he showed interest back, along with warning her that he was actually twenty years older, the girl drew back and returned to working only as his assistant. They didn't resume a romantic relationship until 2010.
Grimacing against the prodding reminder that he was missing, she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. It was hard to remind herself he was gone.
A few minutes passed and two police cars entered the alleyway between the apartment complexes. Noticing them, she threw her cigarette aside and walked down the front steps to meet them.
"Hey, Todd," she greeted through a shiver. "I got his phone. He's in the bedroom; probably will be out for an hour or so. I'm taking this to forensics." She displayed the phone to the officer.
"Alright. Leinigen wants to talk to you."
"Where is he?"
"The Starbucks."
The girl gave him an appreciative nod and shouldered the wind. She made her way down the darkened alleyways and entered the busier part of the city. A few cars were out, mostly taxis, and some pedestrians dotted the streets. Catching sight of a yellow cab, she hailed it. The cab pulled over and she climbed in.
"Where to?" the cab driver asked in a heavy New York accent.
Turning her gaze to the window, she replied softly, "The Starbucks, please."
The cab popped to life and rolled down the gray streets, bumping and jolting from side to side every time they went over a pothole. Sitting there in silence, the girl began worrying about what Leinigen wanted.
YOU ARE READING
Inachevé
RandomA collection of uncompleted, unedited stories written by E. K. Sloyer between the years 2011 - to present. They will all contain of prologues or first chapters.
