I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I leaped from my position, wrapping one arm around Ariel's waist and the other around her throat, in a position that would make it real easy to snap her neck. She whimpered, and her little friend whipped around.
"Don't move!" I barked, glaring at her. "If you don't follow me, I'll snap her pretty little neck." She paused for a second but shrugged.
"I mean, we're not that close dude. Sure, I wouldn't like to see her dead, but that's not really a good bargaining chip. I mean, I can just as easily run and tell the cops." Suddenly, her hand moved. Before I could say anything, she brandished a pocket knife. "Not to mention, I'm armed. So instead, you should be the one listening to me. Because there are two lives in front of me, and I can't say I care for either of them."
Oh.
Well, this wasn't exactly ideal.
I brushed my pocket accidentally as I held a struggling Ariel to me when it hit.
I may not have a gun, or pepper spray, or even a knife, but I do have a certain spray on cologne. I jostled my arm a little, as if Ariel was still struggling, and wrapped my hand around the small bottle.
"What? No snarky comments? The comics always make shit like this look so much more interesting-"
"You're quite the ambidextrous little mink, aren't you? And I thought we were getting along so well." I faked a pout at her, taking a small thrill in the confusion that littered her face.
"Excuse me? What the hell does that have to do with -" I threw my arm out, finger on the pump, and sprayed her directly in the eyes.
Her agonized scream pierced the night air, and when a store owner finally rushed out Ariel and I were nowhere to be seen, the only traces being a scarf that had already made it's way to the ground, and the sound of an engine as I drove away.
