This is a short story I wrote for my English class close to a year ago. We were given a theme to follow and this is what I came up with. I won't tell you the theme yet (I suppose it hasn't even really come up at this point). Well, even though I've already received a grade and everything, I'm still open to edits and all that.
By the way, there are 4 chapters and an epilogue in it.
Alright, hope you like it!
---------------------------
Heart in Chains
Chapter 1
“You ready?” He kept his eyes focused on the storefront reflected in the rearview mirror as he loaded his pistol.
She glanced at him, her eyes excited and a little frightened. Studying his tense face in the sparse light of passing headlights, she noticed his brows were furrowed over his bright brown eyes. He tugged a navy mask over his shaved head, his chocolate skin disappearing underneath. His eyes shone through the holes cut out as he turned to her, finally, awaiting her response.
“Of course,” she breathed.
His eyes smiled and he squeezed her shoulder affectionately before opening his door and stepping into the dark, wet parking lot. She remained in the car, watching anxiously through the rearview mirror.
“Gimme the money!” he stormed into the convenience store, weapon drawn. The young man behind the register pulled out a key and popped open the drawer with a little ‘ding!’ The man with the gun reached across and scooped the bills into a small sack.
“Better not call the cops, kid,” he warned as he backed towards the door, gun still trained on the young man’s face. The young man shook slightly and nodded twice in response, swallowing loudly as he did. As soon as the man with the gun was out of the store, he bolted for the car where the girl waited impatiently. He wrenched open the door and jumped in; she’d already started the car and was peeling out of the parking lot before the man had shut his door.
“How’d it go?” she asked as she raced down the empty street. He opened the sack and peered inside, squinting in the dim light. He gave up and yanked off his mask.
“Hard to say, but it looks good,” he replied somewhat breathlessly. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at her as she drove, the streetlights alternately illuminating her face one second and throwing it into darkness the next. She didn’t look the thieving type, but he knew she was one of the most cunning in the business. Her delicate features and pale skin were like that of a porcelain doll. Her platinum hair was tied up in bun and under a beanie; so she’d look like a boy on a fuzzy surveillance video. Her ice blue eyes were washed out by the orange glow of the passing lights, making them an eerie light gray. Her nose was wrinkled in concentration; she was looking for something.
“Tell me when to turn,” she told him as she glanced around at all the driveways to various parking lots. He snapped his view to the road.
“There.” He pointed to the next driveway on the right.
“’Kay,” she replied, already pulling over into a turn. As soon as she was off the road, she cut the engine. Both sat silently for a few moments before the girl spoke up, “You gonna go do it?” her hands were on the wheel; he saw this. He paused a moment, and decided on a compromise.
“Sure,” he replied, his suspicions masked with a cheery veil on his voice. He gripped the sack and stepped out, going around first to the back, then to the front, tearing off the small cardboard pieces they had placed on the license plates. It may seem futile, but it could make the difference between freedom and jail. She watched him like a guard dog, using her mirrors and windows, all the while never letting her hands drop from the wheel. Mostly, she was watching the sack. He finished his task and stepped back into the car.
“Shall we go to the motel now?” she asked, already pulling away, as he tossed the cardboard into the backseat.
“Uh,” he grunted as he bent backwards awkwardly in between their two seats. “Sure. You got one in mind?” he straightened and watched her patiently.
“Yeah, I saw one on our way in. It looked ok,” she shrugged, scanning the road for signs and monuments she might recognize.
“Alright,” he settled into his seat, still clutching tight to the sack.
) speaks here.
