Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Business Casual Killing

A small snippet I wrote the other day. Who is this girl? Why did she kill someone (something?) during her lunch break? How will she get rid of the body? It's a mystery.

I slumped slightly to rest against the brick wall at my back and dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. Wasn’t helping. And time wasn’t on my side right now, not with the body just lying against the dumpster in front of me. The snow was masking the few sounds of the city and making it feel more deserted than it was but I was going to be found sooner or later.

The body was too big for me to lift into the dumpster. I had muscles; don’t get me wrong, but having the skill to kill someone almost three times your size and having the muscle mass to lift their dead weight were two different things. That’ll teach you to go poking into someone else’s business, I thought.

I didn’t have time for dismemberment, I didn’t know a handy spell for corpse combustion and unfortunately, the body wasn’t going to turn to ash on its own. The adrenaline was wearing down a bit before I finally decided to just drag it away from the direct view of any passerby’s and throw a hiding charm on it until I could come back and do a proper clean up. It took all the leverage and power my five foot six inch frame could muster to force the monster out of view for the time being.

By the time I was done, strands of my dark brown hair had worked themselves free from the neat bun on the back of my head. Or maybe that had happened during the fight. I wasn’t sure. Jesus, Bethany! Does it really matter how your hair got messed up? Just throw the charm and get back to work. I did the little I could and headed back out of the alley.

I let the steps of my swagger slowly transform into the sharp staccato beat of an office worker returning from lunch. Thankfully, the lobby and elevators were empty and I made my way into the restroom before anyone could ask about my appearance. Locked safely in a stall, I took an extra minute to double check that my clothing wasn’t torn or stained with blood. He had gotten in a few good hits but none had been on my face (in which case I would have definitely had to go home for the day); most were just finding their way into becoming a dark purple. I knew I would be paying for that tonight. Nothing was broken, though; I hadn’t been that careless. There’s something to be said for the monotony of business casual black clothes. Apparently they work for back alley killers too.

I checked my eyes in the mirror. They seemed bloodshot but otherwise okay. Grass green rimmed now in red. At least I was color coordinating with the holidays.

No comments: