Until I Met You

Chapter 5: Rosaline

I hate guns. They're instant and deadly. They've killed so many innocent people, including my parents. So why am I holding one right now? Because they get the job done, that's why.

"Why are you doing this?" the woman begs, holding on to her leg.

Chairs have been knocked over, glass is shattered on the floor, and the phone has been ripped from the cord. She's lying on the floor. Her once white night gown is now doused in red.

"We're just doing our job, ma'am," I drone, with no emotion dripping from my lips. 

This is acting. It's just a game. It has to be. Otherwise, what we're doing is wrong. It actually is wrong. It's against protocol to shoot an innocent. We typically scare them into giving us what we want, but shooting is no bueno. Apparently, Wyatt has a different opinion. He points his gun at her temple, causing her to cry out in fear.

"Where is he?" he screams.

"I don't know," she sobs, pressing her head down, tears streaming down her face.

"God dammit!" He knocks the table over onto its side, making her cry even more.

"He's not here, Wyatt."

He obviously isn't. Nobody would let their mother go through this if they were here, would they? As if to answer my question, a man in his late twenties emerges from one of the back rooms with a small pistol in tow. He's wearing dress pants and a nice button down shirt. His hair is slicked back. He looks out of place with the gun.

"Don't fucking touch her!" he seethes at Wyatt. "You put a bullet in her head and you and missy over there gonna get a bullet in yours. It's me you want so deal with me. Let her go."

Wyatt smiles menacingly and slowly shifts the gun toward the man until it is pointing at his chest.

"My, my. Quite an introduction we have here. Good thing you came when you did. Now be a good little boy and put down the gun. You have something we need."

"Something you're not getting," the boy stupidly states.

I know what's coming and I don't like it. There's a look in Wyatt's eyes. I've only seen it a few times before but the outcome never changes. I stand in front of the woman, shielding her from Wyatt, from the bullets in his gun. This woman may know a thing or two about her son's antics but that is not enough justification for her to die. No innocent people should even be involved in this; Reggie's rules. 

"Move," he spits at me.

I plaster on an emotionless face and don't bother budging. 

"Move!" He yells.

Again, I don't make any effort to do as he says. What's he gonna do? Shoot me?

"Give me that." Suddenly, Wyatt lunges for my gun. I take a step back, my foot against the woman's leg. Wyatt is doing everything against protocol. He's putting us at risk, not only from this guy with the gun but from the police. I'm not going to let him do this. I can't. Unfortunately, Wyatt is a lot stronger than me. He pushes me to the ground, causing me to land in some of the woman's blood. In a matter of seconds, the gun is on her and she's screaming. No, she's begging for her life. 

"Stop!" The boy cries out. "Stop. It's over there."

We all look to where he's pointing. The woman is sobbing hysterically. 

"The fireplace?" I ask incredulously.

Who would hide money in a fireplace? I pray for the boy's sake and the woman's that he isn't lying. Wyatt walks over to inspect. He turns on his flashlight and reaches his hand up the chimney. He tugs on something, gritting his teeth as he pulls.