It was the middle of the night, a more so quiet one in the city of Baton Rouge. It had to be on account of the recent bouts of rain that have been happening on and off. Alls well seemed well until there were faint footsteps that were quickly pacing down a darkened alley. There was more running, then a loud POP.
A loud groan echoed from the direction of the gunshot, and moments later a man, grimacing with a bite of his lip, gripped the brick walls with his bloody hand as he attempted with his best of might to flee.
"Ah! Man- fuck! I told you I ain't fuckin' fuck that bitch- I gave that bitch the coke and that's it!" a hooded boy dragged his leg behind him as he tried to limp away to the best of his ability. Blood trickling down his pants leg and staining the cobblestone walkway. It was a dead end and another shadowed figure slowly crept behind him with a hand stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie.
The pursuer's pacing was even, slow, determined while the man fleeing was more erratic, sweat-drenched and erratic. His leg gave out in a snap that sent him crumpling to the floor with his nose only inches away from the slab.
The hooded man rolled on his back, shielding his face and crawling away from the pursuer. His face remaining obscured but his hand fingering the outline of an enlarged object."Man, fuck! I promise you I ain't fuck her man- please, don't kill me- don't-"
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
In the dead of night if one could imagine the air being pulled in reverse from the scene, then was the time. The mice stopped moving, water ceased to drain from the faucets, and the wind dropped where it may.
It was an eerie noise that death made. It was similar to speaking out loud while the entire world was on mute.
As the assailant stood over the young man, a gaping bullet hole lodged between his eyebrows, he pointed it again at his gaping mouth. "Yeah, you aint fuck her and you aint sell her shit you lyin' ass bitch." he bit his lip, determined to find his mark even if the target has since left the earth. Nose runnning, eyes rolled back and tongue hanging out of his mouth. He cocked back the trigger and relentlessly let loose.
6 more shots rang out in the alleyway, the only proof of light being the brief light that each bullet reflected as it left its chamber and the faint wails of police sirens that seemed to be nearing the corner of Easy Town.
The assailant dug in the victim's pocket for the tennis ball size of heroin. "Yeen even have to lie to a nigga, shoulda just said you wanted to do more work. But instead you got got, pussy." the assailant stuffed it in his jacket pocket, fixed the hood over his head and ran off in the opposite direction before anyone could catch wind of who and what happened on this lonely night in Baton Rouge.
