I really hope you guys all like it, but as I'm a realistic person, I know there will be mistakes and all. So be as honest and harsh on this piece as possible. I welcome all comments
Let her riiiiiip!Shards
Chapter One
Opening my front door, I shivered as cold spring air wafted into the house. “May I help you?”
“I do hope so, young man,” the balding elderly replied, “I am searching for Mr. Martin.”
I frowned. “Which one?”
“Hmm.” He scratched his beard. “Vincent Martin, I believe it was.”
“That’s me,” I answered cautiously. What does this old geezer want with me?
“Ah! Very well then. I am here on behalf of The Collector.” With shaky hands, he handed me a grey business card.
“The Collector?” I shoved my hair out of my eyes and read the small print. It wasn’t really indicated what his company was. “You mean the repo guy? He took my mom’s car last week.”
“You misunderstand me. The Collector is an... Investor in things of occult origins.” His black eyes sparkled.
“Occult?” I let out a shaky breath. “Did my grand-mother sell you her tarot cards?”
He shook his head vigorously. “We both know what I was referring to.” He inclined his head forward, scrutinizing me beyond his glasses.
Step away from the creepy dude, my mind urged me. “Look, I’m not interested in anything and I got stuff to do. So if you don’t mind, I-“
His hand shot out, quick as lightning, to grasp my arm. Caught off guard, I started, instantly struggling against his hold. To my disbelief, I couldn’t shake him, despite my numerous tries. “Let me go,” I barked.
“I think not. The Collector wishes to meet you, and so I shall bring you.” He then yanked me out the door and onto the narrow porch, regardless that I was resisting. Or attempting to. What the hell? How can an eighty year old be stronger than a sixteen year old?
Without wasting time, he dragged me along the porch, the slickness of its wet surface aiding me in no way to hold my ground. Shit, this freak really wants to kidnap me? The good news was that I had a brain. And yes, I did know how to use it! Letting myself slide to the side, I hurried to hook a leg and my other arm to a ramp column. Need I say it wasn’t a pleasant position, especially as he attempted to yank me out from there. Fortunately for me, he couldn’t beat gravity.
The old dude, now annoyed, turned and whistled. It was only then I noticed the grey Audi parked in my driveway. The dark figure of a man sat in the driver’s seat. Fuck. I needed to act fast; I couldn’t take on another guy if I had problems with only this one! So I did what I had to; the one technique that had never failed me in all these years.
I dropped like dead weight.
Sure, it wasn’t the most graceful of moves, but it was the last thing somebody expected a teenager to do. It always took people by surprise, and for those few seconds of shock and confusion, they dropped their guards or, in this case, their grip. That was the perfect moment to run for it. And that’s what I did.
How the hell he caught up to me, I’ll never know. But one second I was gripping the door in an effort to close it and the next it was shoved back. Then the old dude grabbed me and threw me to the side. I crashed into the nearby wall, my body smashing the circular mirror hung to it. Falling roughly on my stomach, I was briefly dazed, even more afterwards as I was kicked repeatedly to keep me lying on the floor.
Taking the less painful option, I didn’t try to get back up; I didn't bother to move at all. I just lay there, my eyes closed, as if I were dead. Maybe he would think I was dead and leave me alone. It was worth a try.
I could still feel the aches in my body though. All my body parts felt as though they had caught fire. But the worse was my head. It throbbed nonstop as though something was stabbing into it. That’s when I felt something warm and liquid dripping on me. Blood.
My best guess was that a mirror shard had embedded itself in my skull, which would explain the flow of blood seeping out of my head. But I couldn’t worry about that right then. As much as I didn’t like it, these men had a fish to fry.
But this fishy wasn’t going down without a fight. Moving my hand that was opposite of where the old man stood, I grabbed the mirror piece that was beside it. Then I moved my hand to my side to hide it. I was really hoping they hadn’t seen me grab it, but I couldn’t rely on that alone.
The old man waited for the other one, the driver, to arrive before he stepped away from me. “Check if he’s still alive,” the old man growled.
Ah fuck! If he felt for my pulse, I was done for; they’d finish me off for sure! I needed to distract them. But if I moved while they were looking at me, I’d be giving myself up, and there was no way for me to distract without movement. Besides, I highly doubted any of my neighbours had heard our altercation, so no help from there.
Maybe he’ll be stupid and use his thumb? He’d believe it was his own heart thumping away. Nah. Nobody’s that thick. What else could be done? Perhaps I could temporarily stop my heartbeat. Was that even possible?
However, the time to consider it wasn’t given to me as the driver stepped into the house, his shoes breaking glass into smaller pieces. I forced myself to breathe regularly, as though nothing were wrong, while restricting my movements to the utmost. Then as he leaned down towards me, I stopped all inhalation.
Two warm fingers pressed on my throat. I waited several seconds, expecting a shout of surprise or indignation, a growl, something to be said. I didn't want to, but I was ready to slash out at him with the mirror shard. I was on standby, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Nothing happened. The driver removed his fingers and hissed out, “He’s dead!”
“Geez. He certainly would have been useless to The Collector if he was this weak.”
“That’s not what matters! You killed him, you idiot! ...You know the penalty for failure.” Despite him being the driver, I could tell this man wasn’t slave to the other one. Who in their right mind would insult their boss?
“I care not,” the older man said, a slight quiver in his voice saying otherwise.
“Get in the car!” the driver ordered. Without a word, the older one fled. The driver stood, looming over my limp body. “Be glad my allegiance is not to The Collector, boy. Death is infinitely sweeter than a lifetime in his service, and so I will grant you mercy. Die well.” And with that, he left.
Die well?! I don’t wanna die! My eyes flew open and I blinked from the sudden brightness of the outdoors. I waited for the men to come back, thinking maybe they were just toying with me. Instead, the car engine roared to life and the tires screeched as the vehicle pulled out of the driveway and down the street in a rush of speed.
They’re gone. Now get up! However, despite my earlier thoughts that I could bolt, I was as effective as a dead body. My head throbbed uncontrollably and my body was sore from exertion and being jerked around. Yet if I didn’t move, I’d die from blood loss. I’d already lost so much and could feel myself inching closer to death. Come on! Just crawl to the phone and call an ambulance, I ordered my body. Slowly, I slid my arms underneath myself, doing my damndest to ignore the slivers of glass biting into my skin. Using my forearms as anchors, I heaved the lower half of my body forward.
Barely had I moved that my arms fell out from under me. The pain in my body was becoming too intense; I didn’t even have the strength to move. Unwanted tears sprang into my eyes. I’m going to die, the clear part of my brain acknowledged. I won’t see mom or Mimi anymore. I can’t leave them! Fuck!
My survival instincts kicked in. “Help! Please!” I attempted to scream, succeeding only in gasping out the words. Nobody’s going to hear. Oh God! I had never prayed before but I could make an exception for this. Just heal my head; just stop the blood from comin’ out. Please! I don’t wanna die, God!
Seconds passed without any change. My vision became foggier, my hearing barely perceiving a sound. Soon after practically all my senses were dulled. God must be busy, I thought as everything went black.
