The Run

Two

Me

We enter my home, and I motion to the sofa for Linda to lay her down.
"Right, here. I gotta friend. I think he can help us. Is he awake?"
"No. He's still out."
"I'll be right back."
I go out the door, heading down the black asphalt. I pass three houses, and I go up the ivory porch stairs. I knock a harsh and yell.
"Maggie!" knock, "Maggie!" knock.
I feel the vibrations through as my hands rest atop the brown door. I hear her feet pounding towards the door. The door knob wiggles, and the wall separating me from my aid is swung open.
"What the hell you knockin' like that for?"
"I need your help. There's this woman. Son is sick. I know you're a doc. I know you can help."
"Yeah, I can try. I can drive you too the ho—."
"No." I interrupt, "No hospitals. She's, er, a newcomer."
"Oh, shit."
"Please."
"You just left her at your house." It's more of a statement than a sarcastic question; I respond
regardless.
"It was happening so fast. I didn—."
"I'm coming." she states reluctantly, throwing and maneuvering her thick brown locks all around. She grabs her keys off the table just beside the door and scurries off the porch. We make a hasty trek to my humble house and go in.
As soon as we stumble through my door panting, Linda is in front of us.
"Please help him. I think he's worse." she says with pleading eyes. Her hands quivering at her sides.
"I'll do what I can." Maggie tells her staring down at the floor, like she'll burst into tears if her eyes touch Linda's.
"He's in the sofa."
"Okay." she walks over glancing down at the boy. "What's his name?"
"Marco."
She touches his skin, and his unconscious body almost winces. Pulling up his shirt, she covers her mouth. Bewildered, tears well up in Maggie's eyes; she's staring at the dozens of pruce bruises engulfing Marco's abdomen. "How did this happen?"
Linda just keeps shaking her head, with her brown hair swaying and covering her face.
"Su Papá. Su Papá. Su papá." Linda keeps swaying her head, while her frame seems to collapse.
"What's she saying?" Maggie asks me, and I blanch.
"His dad."
"With bruises like these. He could have internal bleeding." now Maggie is swiveling her head. "And the trip over here." she whispers mostly to herself, but it's coherent enough for me to hear.
"I can't treat him."
She throws a frigid glare our way.
"You have to!" Linda screams, and the situation begins to escalate.
She touches her side, and pulls out a gun.
"You have to! Please!"
"Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll do what I can!" Maggie is standing up with her hand up, pleading with the woman.
"Please!"
Tears are crashing down Linda's face, screaming their way up from the corner of her eyes. Still though —despite the gun's ever decreasing proximity— I can't feel repentant.
I don't regret helping her for a second. Nobody was there for me, when I came washing up on the grainy shore. Nobody.

•<***>•
Someone Else

Killing someone, anyone, is like stabbing your heart ten thousand times. The recoil is still swimming through my arms; it's burning me. Lacing my veins in poison. There's no blood, but my arms feels wet; it's tears. But I wish it was the crimson. I wish I'd gotten shot not her. I wish I'd died not her. But I can't take it back, and I can't act like I want to. I can't show Carlos or Octavio that I'm weak.
"Good work, boys." Carlos says his meaty, muscular hand resting on top of my shoulder. He smiles, and I see the indentations in his tan, tan cheeks while he does.
"We ask them to bring us something worth five thousand, and they bring us five hundred thousand." Carlos deepens his smile, and takes his hand off my shoulder, and my anxious sweating halts as I start to calm.
"You boys will definitely get some of the cut."
I can't force my lips to turn upright, like they have vowed not to commit anything ingenuous.
"You guys got the honor of watching the gir—.Can someone stop that screaming! The girl."
I shudder, and the screams stop.
"I'll get some of my guys to help you out making something that'll rough up the parents."
Carlos departs after motioning some guys to us. They have the girl and tell us to go to the room down the grey hallway. I look only briefly at the girl; she couldn't be older than eleven. The guys are chucking as we walk in the room smiling, shuffling, and chuckling.

Preparing.

I stifle some vomit that's attempting to inch it's way out my mouth.
"Ricky, you got the camera?"
"Yeah, let's do this shit." he starts to unbuckle the charcoal-hues belt. The girl is thrown to the ground, and she crawls to the corner crying.
One guy grabs her and feels her up, touching every inch of her body.
Stop! I say in my head, Stop.
"Stop!" I scream, and it's not in my head this time.
"What the fuck up with you?"
"Don't do this shit!" I yell, "Alexis! C'mon!"
He shakes his head. They glare at me, and one grips me up and throws me out. As the guy shuts the door, I hear the beep of the camera. And then her screams begin.
I don't bang on the door. I don't do anything. Remorse takes over me like a plague. It infects my heart. I hear Alexis's voice through the door.
"You like it don't you?"
I won't be able to live with this.