I can't exactly explain this. i have been working on this for a while...read and enjoy!!!
September the 1st
He has blue eyes, that’s what I remember most about him. Those confused, blue eyes still haunt me to this day. His hair is blonde, cut short but still kept stylish, he could have passed for some form of insurance broker with smart hair like that he could’ve been anything. His face is rounded and he has stubble surrounding his mouth and on his cheeks, he isn’t what you would call attractive but he resonated some sort of handsomeness not very often seen. I don’t remember much about what he was wearing, I wasn’t looking much at his body, in fact I don’t remember taking in his facial features but there you go. What I was really focused on was the small, perfectly round hole right between his blonde eyebrows. A small trickle of blood runs from that hole, it passes to the left of his smallish nose and crescents past his mouth to drip slowly of his chin. All this in a second, but I remember that moment almost as if I saw it only yesterday.
I have tried to rationalise, he died so I could live, the unknown saviour of my pitiful life. But all to no avail, he was a victim of coincidence, doomed to death only because he shared my first name, a single solitary connection to a cretin such as me lead him to his untimely and premature demise. But still for around a year I have lived silently thanking that saviour, I am here because of him and now I am in the clear. Thinking back now I would rather have died, I mean a fat lot of good his death did. Here I am, hands tied behind my back, my new jeans smothered in mud as I have been forced to kneel and possibly the same gun used to kill my unknown friend back there pressed coldly against my forehead. The assailant, a simple hired goon, probably one of the ones I hired in the first place, although, thinking about it now I vaguely remember him shooting my saviour. Funny isn’t it how the crooked deals you make in your lifetime always bite you in the arse, especially the immoral ones? Ain’t life grand?
The goon with the gun, or Blake as he oh so kindly introduced himself to be after breaking my nose with his weapon has started to speak. His voice is low and gruff, typical angry goon style. I can’t quite catch what he is saying as my nose hurts too much for me to care about anything else, but what I do make out doesn’t really help my odds of getting out of this untimely predicament.
‘You are dead now mate, no escape, no mercy, any last words before you and Mr. Colt get acquainted?’ That gruff voice is really getting on my nerves.
‘I have three things to say, One: I am not your bloody mate so stop that before it starts, Two: Can you please tell me why the hell you broke my nose as I could hear you perfectly well before that and Three: WHAT IS GOING ON!’ I am beginning to think that yelling was a bad idea; ‘Blake’ is now looking down at me as if he just scraped me off of his shoe, pain is soon on its way. I am proven correct when he smashes his gun once more onto my poor poor nose.
‘Ok then mate. I’ll play ball. One: I am the guy with the gun so I will call you mate whenever I bleedin’ well please, ok?’ He grabs my hair and shakes me for a response; I manage to give him the affirmative. ‘Good, Two: I didn’t hit your nose because I wanted to improve your hearin’ abilities, I hit it because I like hitting people and, as you might already be able to guess, we are going to do a lot of hitting before we are done here.’ I notice for the first time that this goon is flanked by two equally friendly looking gentlemen. Oh I am so so glad I shouted now. ‘Three: We are here to settle an old score, as you might remember you and my employer had a bit of a deal goin’ on. A deal which you broke, and we don’t take kindly to that do we? I must apologise though for the delay that it has taken to find you and kill you. We thought we found you last year you see? Turned out it was just some bloke with your first name. Whoops?’ He laughs, his laughter is worse than his speaking, I wish he would just get on with it and kill me! ‘Oh, and an extra point Four: DON'T...YOU...EVER...YELL...AT...ME...AGAIN...YOU...MAGGOT!’ Each new word is accompanied quickly with another slam from the now rather familiar gun.
Now lying on the ground, I feel like one big ball of pain, I seriously wish things went differently that time at the bar, at least he had a quick painless, albeit confusing and messy, death. I seriously doubt that things will be quick and painless at all, but messy, I am sure they will want it messy. I’m screwed if I don't think of something fast.