Last Breath -short story
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- Parts 2
Complete Mon, Nov 23, 2015<5 mins
He threw his arms around me. My adrenaline rushed. He silenced me. Is my life coming to an end before my eyes?
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Your average detective story- A firm detective and a druggie work together to solve a murder. *** Wait!" I grip his forearm tightly, my fingers digging into his skin, and force him to turn around and face me. I search his eyes for any hint of emotion, but he remains stoic, the only indication of his inner turmoil being the tears that glisten in the corners of his eyes. "I know you didn't commit the murder," I say, my voice low and urgent. "But if we don't find the real killer soon, you'll be sent to prison." The gravity of the situation hangs heavily in the air between us, and I can feel my own anxiety skyrocketing. His response is immediate, his frustration palpable. "If you know I didn't do it, then why the hell aren't you out there looking for the killer?" he snaps, venom dripping from every word. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I am," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just have this feeling that the killer is hiding somewhere in this part of town. And I need your help to find them." "Ha," he chuckles, his coarse voice sending shivers down my spine. "You want me to help you? Now why the hell would I help your naked mole rat-looking ass?" As he sneers, I can't help but notice how his lips curl up in disgust at the sight of me.
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