Fiction; Coming Alive

- Maybe, I said, we can go there some day? I looked thoroughly at Sam, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of life, but there was nothing. He was just laying there, not responding to anything I said or did. Not that I could blame him. He was, after all, hooked onto life support machines of all sorts, shapes and sizes. He had been for a few months now. There were wires and tubes everywhere, and beeps and all different kinds of other sounds. I usually had some soft music playing in the background in an attempt to drown it all out. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

The doctors didn't give him any chance of waking up, but I just couldn't make the decision to turn the machines off. I wasn't ready. Not yet. "Maybe some day I will be", I thought to myself, "but not yet." Part of me knew I was being selfish, but the other part of me thought it would be selfish to turn it off. It wouldn't make his life easier, it would just make him dead. It would, however, make my life a lot easier. It would actually give me a life again. I wanted to say give me back my life, but nothing could ever do that, so it didn't feel right to say it. It would give me a life again. A different life from before, but a life compared to now.

I looked at the sweet man that was the love of my life, trying to see him as he used to be, but it was hard. The memories were there, of course, but they were just memories, this was the reality now. Sam would never be what he used to be. He would never smile or laugh again, never cry or get angry either. I would never see the twinkle in his eyes when he thought of something funny, or have his hands softly touch my skin. I would never again hear him say my name, or feel the warmth inside my chest when he told me he loved me.

Was he in pain? Obviously nobody knew, but I didn't think he was, it would have been an easy decision to make if I had thought so. I didn't want him to be in pain, I just wanted him alive. I sighed; "Alive, that's a joke, he's hardly alive. Neither am I although I'm a lot more alive than he is."

- I'm sorry, Mrs Kent, it's time to change his sheets., a soft voice said behind me. One of the nurses looked at me with guilt in her eyes.
- Thank you, nurse Colleen, you have no idea how much that means to us., I told her reassuringly. There was no point in having Sam's carers feel like they were in the way. Without them I would be even less alive than I already was, and Sam would most likely be sleeping in a lot dirtier sheets. The nurse's big, blue eyes lit up and she smiled.
- Thank you, it's nice to hear that, you are always so kind to us., she answered back with a touch of relief and appreciation in her voice. I smiled at her; - I'll get out of your way, it's time for dinner anyway.

As I was driving home I thought of all the times I had driven that particular way in the last few months, between the hospital and home. Our home that was becoming my home more and more. One small thing at a time it was changing. Once the doctors had told me there was no hope I had completely re-done the guest en-suite and made it my bedroom, my domain, my haven at home. It was a room that Sam had never spent any time in. It was out of that room my strength grew, step by step; my strength to move forward, to move on. Next thing I had done was to paint the kitchen; I had always wanted a warm colour on the walls and cabinet doors, but Sam had preferred white and steel grey. He wasn't there to argue with me about it right now, so I had made the decision to go for it. I had to admit it was a lot out of anger, to make him just as mad as he had made me when he drove that car so recklessly against the red light. If he ever woke up he couldn't blame anybody but himself for the accident. Well, that wouldn't be a problem because he wasn't waking up anyway. 

After I had re-done the kitchen I just kept going, I needed something to occupy my mind with, so I had changed the whole house except for our bedroom and Sam's office. They were in a time capsule, a reminder of what was and of my pain. The pain he had caused me. I had started to forgive him though, he wouldn't have wanted to be the way he was now, I figured. He had been careless, and he had paid the price. Soon it would be the ultimate price. At that moment I knew I had to let him go. It was time.

"Take a left here." I voice in my head said, all of a sudden. Without having the time to think about it I did. - Well, it's nice with the change., I said to  myself out loud. "Maybe this is the next step, changing my route home?"

I had learnt to just go with it when these thoughts of change hit me. In the beginning I just didn't have the strength to fight them, and after some time I started enjoying it. As time had gone by I had understood that it was something I had to do, that it helped me move forward, step by step. 

I started to feel excitement rise within; I was wondering where this change would lead me. Literally, as I had no idea where I was geographically. "Oh, this is fun!", I thought to myself as I turned the music on for the first time since Sam's accident. I listened to music at home, and played music to Sam, but this was the first time I had turned it on in the car since Sam's crash. The Police thought he had been doing something with his old car stereo when he had been hit, it had been the old type where you use a cassette tape. Sam had loved it. It had made me loath the combination of music and driving, but this time it felt good. It felt right. 

Driving on an unknown road, with my favourite song playing made me wish I had a convertible so I could have felt the wind in my hair. I actually felt alive. "I feel alive!", I said to myself with surprise. "I AM ALIVE!", I shouted when the feeling had sunk in. I laughed, and sang along with the music, and I looked around at the landscape. Yes, I was alive.

Far behind me, at the hospital that I had just left, Sam opened up his eyes. "I am alive!", he said quietly to himself. He started to move his fingers and legs, before he sat up. He could feel his wife's spirit, her energy, hit him. "That's what woke me up.", he thought. Sam smiled and pressed the little buzzer next to his bed. 

Nurse Colleen opened the door and stopped mid sentence while saying she thought Mrs Kent had left. Her jaw dropped and her already big eyes turned even bigger. She stared at Sam. She couldn't speak, she couldn't find any words to say, so she just continued to stare. 

Sam smiled at her and said; "Nurse, could you please call my wife and tell her I'm alive."


Love//
Carina

Fiction; The Loving Eyes

As soon as the wind started to settle I could hear the screams again. I preferred the noise of the wind, to be honest. I really need to sound proof this place, or at least parts of it. How on earth am I ever going to be able to sleep with all that shouting going on? One would think living in the middle of nowhere would be a quiet and nice experience, a place where you could collect your thoughts and get to an inner balance, but, no, not at my house, anyway. Those people just won’t shut up. It just goes on and on and on. Day or night doesn’t matter, after a time of calm and quiet the screaming starts again, and it had gotten worse over the years.

It’s a good thing I bought a nice set of headphones to go with my mp3 player. Listening to my favourite music helps to drown it all out. Maybe I should just go tell them to shut up? Although, they already have an aversion against me right now and I don’t really want to add to it at this point of time. Maybe I should give them something nice as a peace offering instead, maybe that will quiet them down a bit?

I need to go shopping first though, might be a nice change of scenery for a few hours. Get the screaming out of my head. The only good thing about them all screaming is that I can scream all I want to as well. Get my frustration and anger out of my system, temporarily at least. Yes, I’ll go shopping for them, it’s about time anyway. It’s been way too long.

I didn’t knock on the door. Nobody would have, or could have, stopped me from entering the room anyway. The screaming stopped as I entered and four eyes turned to look at me and my company. Her eyes widened as I shoved her into the big cage with the other two. She was all naked with her hands tied behind her back and her mouth was gagged. Her eyes were perfect in every single way, and the fear in them was exhilarating. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. They made me happy I went shopping.

-  I brought you a toy, I said. Play with her, make me happy.

The woman’s eyes got even bigger and she tried to scream and move away from the other two. They, however, knew that good things had come their way. They looked at each other, then at me, and finally at the woman. I could see their eager and hunger. This one wouldn't last long. Good, that made my wait shorter too. 

Yes, I was very happy with my shopping today; she would make a nice addition to my collection. It had become more difficult to find unique people as time had gone by. Twenty years will do that to any collector.

I left the three prisoners, or the six eyes; it was the eyes that were of importance to me, in the cage and went back upstairs.The first two I didn’t care about, they had ordinary eyes, but this new one had green eyes with little blue dots in them. They were the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and nothing like I had ever seen before. I couldn't wait to see them again.

It was quiet now, for a while at least. The new girl was gagged and the other two were happy with their new toy for a while. I knew they would be, they were serial killers and she was their prey. See, I don’t kill anybody; I just collect the eyes from the dead. And, well, I do bring them the people they need to kill for my collection. We’ve had this collaboration long for a long time now. Not that they had much choice.

Once upon a time, twenty some years ago, I had caught them killing my girlfriend, and somehow I had managed to capture them. I had had no idea what to do with them, but I couldn’t hand them over to the police. I wanted to keep my girlfriends eyes, and therefore I needed to get rid of her body without getting the police involved.  Living alone deep in a forest has a lot of advantages so I had buried her, and planted a tree on top of her grave. Her name was Marlene.

At first I had just kept them, Marlene's killers, and I had built them a big cage. It had been expensive though, because I needed to feed them, but what choice did I have. I couldn’t let them go, I couldn’t call the police and I couldn’t kill them. I don’t kill. And then one day about 7 months later I had seen the most intriguing set of eyes. I had no choice. I had to get them. I wanted them so badly. And that’s when I got the idea. I already had the perfect set up, all I had to do was to make sure nobody would suspect me of snatching the girl, and let the prisoners kill her so I could collect those perfect eyes.

At the same time I realized that I didn’t need to spend any more money on food ever again, not for those two anyway. One girl would last them a very long time. It was all up to them. I didn’t care what they did as long as I got the eyes, those gorgeous eyes.

I smiled. I loved my collection, 57 soon to be 58, pair of eyes. My first pair was my favourite, Marlene's eyes, those eyes I had loved. I had loved the body that had held them too.

Yes, I love those loving eyes.

Love//

Carina

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Fiction; The Cold

The wind coming from the mountains is icy cold. It’s the kind of cold that creeps in under your clothes, skin, and even your bones, all the way into the deepest bone marrow. I can feel my teeth pressing against each other and my jaw clenching. I know I’m supposed to relax, but anybody that has ever been cold knows how hard it really is to do so. I try every now and again, but it only lasts for a minute or two. It’s nice during those minutes I succeed, though, especially when it’s long enough for that fuzzy feeling of warmth to start spreading inside, but afterwards the cold is even worse. Or at least that’s how it feels. Unfortunately it never stays long enough, before it’s gone and the cold is back again. It's a good thing I've found other ways of getting that feeling of pleasurable comfort and warmth inside.

Today is a good day, because someone bought me a big cup of steaming warm cocoa, and a warm and freshly baked baguette. I even got to choose what toppings I wanted! I chose cheese, chicken and sweet chili sauce. It was like heaven, and the smells from it were heavenly too. I still have half of it, but it isn't warm anymore. Still, it will be very enjoyable and tasty when I eat it. Eating a cold baguette gives a completely different feeling than eating a warm one. Both are equally delicious, just different, even when it's two halves of the same baguette, or sandwich.

The nice young lady also gave me a blanket to help keep me warm. She had nice eyes, the girl, caring and warm, and her sweet, loving smile showed in them. Her name was Caroline. I called her Sweet Caroline, like in the song. She laughed and smiled and looked me straight in the eyes. Not many people do that. I guess they are afraid of their own guilt. I get it; I used to be one of them. I would rush passed the homeless people and the beggars trying my very best not to have them catch me even glance at them, out of fear that they would make me feel ashamed of myself, and remind me of how ungrateful I was of all the good things I had in my life.

I sigh. That was then. Now, I am grateful for the small stuff in life, like that cocoa, or Sweet Caroline’s smile, and her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes that went so well with her long, blond hair.

“Sweet Caroline, duh duh duh”, I sing to myself as I think about the fear in her eyes when I put my hands around her neck. Oh what a thrill she had been! I close my eyes as I remember her realization that she was about to die. That is always the best part; to see their light first go on, only to go out for good a few delightfully pleasant seconds later. The thought of it alone makes me feel all warm and nice inside again, and this time I know the fuzzy feeling will stay with me a lot longer. That’s the second best part of it; it protects me from the cold. As cold as she is right now; or her body is; Sweet Caroline will keep me warm for a very long time.

“Sweet Caroline, duh duh duh”.


If you like my stories, please support me on Patreon! Just click the tab above. Thank you!

Love//
Carina

Fiction; Fear, Death, Fresh Air

"Would you come with me, please, Mrs Williams"`? A voice asked. Joanne quickly got to her feet with a feeling that it was about time. She’d been in the waiting room for almost two hours while waiting for the test results. They hurried through a labyrinth of white, sterile corridors.

"Where exactly are we going"? Joanne wondered. "The doctor will explain". Joanne was too annoyed to notice the nurse holding her distance while walking, as well as her breath behind the white mask. Her eyes were scared and she wore gloves on her hands, but all Joanne was thinking was that she should have called her husband to say she was running late for lunch.

The nurse led her through a set of double doors into a wash room. "Please, remove all your clothing and put them in this plastic bag! Have a shower, put this gown on and wait in there, the doctor will be with you shortly", she pointed at an open back hospital gown, and nodded towards another door, before leaving the room.

"I.... can't... breathe..." Joanne said out loud as she felt the walls of the already small room closing in on her. Everything looked blurry and she had a hard time focusing on the face in front of her. As though in a vacuum she heard the doctor say something in slow motion, but she couldn't understand another word. All she got was that she had been quarantined due to suspicion of a dangerous, deadly, virus. A loud scream echoed through the room before she felt a sting and everything started to fade away.

She was dancing on a green and flowery meadow. Birds were twittering a lovely tune and the air was fresh when she breathed it into her lungs. She laughed, she felt free and alive. Suddenly a big dark cloud swept in and hid the sun. The birds stopped singing, the flowers withered and the air disappeared.

Joanne couldn't breath. She woke up and gasped for air.

"Air, I need air" she said while stumbling from the bed to the small window. "Where's the hatch? Where’s the bloody hatch?" she screamed. She felt the panic rise within as she pounded on the window to get some air in. Strong arms grabbed her and she felt the sting. Once again she was dancing and laughing on the green meadow with the nice, fresh air. “I love fresh air” she sang along with the birds.

"Mrs Williams".  A voice softly woke her. Joanne looked up and saw someone standing over her. “The doctor is on his way with the test results. We will know in just a few minutes.”

The door opened and a man dressed up as one of the characters from a science fiction film walked in, the uniform protecting him from top to bottom.

As Joanne took her last breath, surrounded by sci-fi looking people, she felt fresh air fill her lungs. She was free. Finally.

Love//
Carina

Fiction; Revenge

Her head was banging, painfully so, but it wasn't due to any wild nights out with girlfriends, or because she was ill. In fact, she wished any of those alternatives had been the reason for her agony. But it wasn't.

Instead the pain came from hitting her head in the sink in the bathroom. Not because she had slipped on the wet floor, or tripped on the bathroom mat. No, she had hit her head because her darling, and very loving, boyfriend had thrown her into it.

It was OK though, she thought, she had deserved it this time. She had known she was supposed to stay in the flat, but she didn't want the rubbish to just sit inside and stink the place up. That would have been wrong too. She got that, who would want to come home to a smelly flat? Still, she didn't regret having prawns for dinner last night. She loved prawns, and she had made a conscious decision having it.

Even though she knew she had deserved the beating, and had expected it, she was happy because today was the day. She had been waiting, and planning, for this day for a long time. She couldn't hold back her joy as she broke his favourite coffee mug, the red one with his favourite football team’s logo on it. He cared more about that mug than he did about her. Breaking it was a symbolic gesture. She broke his mug, like he had broken her.  She scraped the pieces together and threw all of them, but one, away. She saved the biggest piece for him to see. She wanted him upset and angry.

She broke into his drawer by picking the lock. She had been practicing how to do it for a while now. She took out his gun and closed the drawer again. She went back to the kitchen, left the gun on the counter top, and put the biggest kitchen knife on the floor, but not until she had cut herself in the arm. He wasn't going to be able to hurt her again after today. She was going to make sure of it. It was his turn to suffer. She knew she would have to pay the price for it, but so would he, and it would be worth it to not be miserable and in fear anymore.

When she heard his car park outside, she dialed the emergency dispatch and whispered to the female voice answering; 

“Please, help me, he’s going to kill me! Please, don’t leave m…”

She put the phone on the floor under the kitchen chair, the call still active, and she screamed. A short, quiet, scream, but it was effective enough for the dispatcher to stay on the line and to call a car to go to the address.

As soon as he walked in he started to yell and scream about the bin bag in the hallway. Coming into the kitchen he saw the broken mug and he kicked the cupboard door and banged his hand on the counter. She pleaded to him not to hurt her. 

“I’m sorry, it was an accident!”, she lied.

“Why the hell are you wearing make-up? You look like a whore!” he kept going. 

He moved quickly towards her, but stopped in his steps as he saw the gun on the counter top. 

“What the hell….?” He picked it up and looked at her.

“Please, please don’t shoot me!” she said as she backed away from him as far as she could. 

With the gun in his hand he moved up to her, pressed her against the wall, pointing the gun to her forehead.  She heard the sirens from the police car coming closer, and she knew they were coming for him. But he didn't. She could see the rage in his eyes and she knew his time was up. She looked him viciously in the eyes as she whispered; 

“I've been fucking the mail man all week and I loved every second of it”.

And then there was a loud bang!

She was finally free! 


Love//
Carina

Fiction; The Man

I looked up from my phone just as he walked passed me. I’m not exactly sure what it was about him that caught my attention. It might have been the fact that he was good-looking, very much so even. He was blond; I could see that from the scruff on his face; tall and well-built with a nice posture. He had confidence. Or it might have been that he was wearing a winter hat and sunglasses, but that made sense though, because it was sunny yet cold. Here, where we are, at this time of year, nothing was really strange. Some people walk around in thick and warm winter clothes; that would be the resident people, and some people would walk around in shorts and tops; those were the tourists. So it probably wasn't that either.

The man was walking with long, quick steps, like he had somewhere important to get to, maybe that’s what it was, or maybe it was the determination in his whole body language, or perhaps it was the bag he was carrying. It was a sports bag kind of bag, in black leather, but it wasn't so much the bag itself, as the way he was carrying it. He wasn't carrying it on his shoulder like most people tend to do, he was just holding it in his hand, with a straight arm hanging down from his shoulder. Still, it was controlled. He held the bag still. It might have been something unnatural about how he carried that bag.

My eyes followed him, like they were stuck, until he turned the corner. He zigzagged his way through the crowd on the pavement, smoothly and yet quickly. Nobody seemed to notice him, but me. Nobody had to stop, or take a step sideways, to let him through. It was like he wasn't even there. Except for me.

Later, I would wonder if I could have done anything to change the outcome. If I could have done anything to stop what happened. Probably not, is what my brain said. Maybe, is what my heart said. Sure, if I had tried, a lot of things would have turned out differently, but most likely not in a good way. In a similar way, but not in a better way. And I had to remember that I didn't know. How could anybody have known? But I knew something was wrong about him. Or at least I had a feeling something was.

The man stayed in my mind for only a few minutes after he disappeared around that corner, something else probably caught my attention, maybe the game I was playing on my phone, maybe another pedestrian, or perhaps the bus I was waiting for arrived. I just can’t recall.

I didn't hear about what had happened until the next day, and even when I did hear about it I didn't connect the man I had seen with it. Why would I? There was no obvious connection, and I had forgotten all about him already. Everybody talked about it; it was all over the news. I, just as everybody else, was glad I hadn't been there when it happened. I almost had been. I could have been. But I wasn't. In fact, I had left the surrounding area not long before it had happened. I was relieved.

I followed the news, as you do when something big and devastating like this happens. I got goose bumps at the thought of how close I’d been, and I felt relief that I was alive. It was difficult to look mortality in the eyes, even though I hadn't actually faced it. Maybe because I hadn't actually faced it. The fact that it happened in my town made me shiver, and the atmosphere in town was thick of sorrow, relief and disbelief. How could this happen? Why did this happen? Who made this happen?

And then I saw it. The photograph on the news. That face. I knew it. I had seen it. But where? I screamed. Loud! HIM!! I cried as I realized I had seen him. The Man! The cause to all the pain and suffering! I had seen him, and I didn't stop him. I had known something was off about him, and I hadn't done anything to prevent him for doing what he did!

Nobody else came forward. It was like he had only existed in my world until the moment he had decided to step out of it. And once he did, he did it with a bang. Literally! He did it with the loud, deadly bang of a bomb in the middle of a train station at rush hour. And I had seen him only minutes before.

23 people injured, 84 people killed.

And I was still alive. I was alive.

Love//

Carina

Fiction; The End

It’s been eight years to the day since Simon had passed away. Ruth was sitting outside a restaurant by the beach, in a town on the Sunny Coast of Spain, thinking back to that very day.

The sun had hardly risen over the horizon when she heard a big thump in the kitchen. At first she had thought nothing of it; it was probably just Simon dropping something. He had been getting a bit clumsy lately, constantly dropping things. Ruth put it down to old age. After all, they weren't youngsters anymore, even if they weren't all that old either, at least not in their own minds.

After a few minutes she noticed the silence. Normally, she would hear his slipper dressed feet lightly dragging in short steps over the floor, a cupboard door opening or closing, water running or even heavy sighing going on. But there was nothing. Only silence. Ruth called his name, but the only answer she got was more silence.  She called again, a bit louder this time. Still nothing but silence.

Ruth rolled over on her side, to get in position to get out of bed. Even in her worry she noticed the smoothness of the clean, crisp sheets she had made the bed with only the night before. She put her feet over the edge and got up to a sitting position. She stopped for a few seconds to catch her breath before she called out her husband’s name yet again.

 -   Simon?!

There was still only silence echoing her call.

Normally his name felt like fresh peach juice in her mouth; sweet, full and tasty, but at this particular moment it tasted more like sour grape fruit juice. Tart and nasty.

Ruth used her strong will, and her love for the man she had spent the last 41 years with, to get up walking. She had an urge to run, but the complications after her hip surgery, made it impossible. When she reached the kitchen door she stopped, took a deep breath, and braced herself. She knew, but yet she had no idea, what to expect. For a split second Ruth felt confused.

Simon was on his back on the floor, blood slowly running from the left corner of his mouth, he didn't move a muscle, but his grey eyes moved to look at her face, searching for her eyes.

 -  Simon! Ruth screamed. - Oh, Simon!

She felt tears rising through her body, all the way from the pit of her stomach. She fell on her knees, hip completely forgotten, and gently caressed his cheek. She looked straight into his eyes and all her fear and sadness suddenly left her. All she felt was the deep love she had for this loving and caring man. She remembered the sparkle in his eyes the time he had brought her that ticket to go see her favourite band live; and the love and fear in them when he had gone down on one knee after that very concert to propose to her. She saw the love for her, for their three children and the joy of their grandchildren. She saw all the laughs and tears they had shared. The good times and the bad times. She saw their whole lives together. She saw it all in his eyes. She felt it deep within.

 -  I love you with all my heart and soul! Ruth said quietly as she saw the life in those same, loving eyes go out. 

Simon was gone. Just like that.

As Ruth sits there, remembering, she feels grateful. Grateful she got all those years with Simon. Grateful she had experienced true and deep love in her life. Grateful that Simon had died knowing her love for him. It’s been eight years, but it felt like 88. It wouldn't be too long now before she would join him, the doctors had said, but until then she was determined to enjoy life to the fullest.

Ruth took a deep breath, looked up at the warm, bright sun; smelled the saltiness of the Mediterranean Sea, and ordered a cold beer. As she took her book off the table she could hear the waves hit the beach, and the people around her talk and laugh. Life!

 - Soon, Simon, soon! She whispered; and she smiled. 

Written by Carina Lindberg

Far Away Land

Ok, so bear with with me here. This is the first poem I've written in, well, 500 hundred years or so. I'm not even sure it is any good, but I still like it, and that's really all that matters. And a girl's gotta start somewhere. I don't know if I will keep working on poems, or if I will just stick to my short stories/flash fiction. Time will tell, hopefully I'll do A Litte Bit Of Everyting. (See what I did there, Home Fries?) Anyway, here it goes;

Far Away Land

In the distant dream he held my hand - and he whispered he’d take me to a far away land.

With the desire of bodies entwined together - a place made of passion - to live forever.

Where the touch of each kiss, is a deep, truthful bliss.

And the look of an eye will make sure you don't die.

In this land far away, a place where few get to go.

There’s a love that is deeper than a mountain of snow.

And there’s this warmth in this land that melts every heart.

With the promise that not even death will do love apart.

Oh, it hurts deep within and I start to scream - the far away land is now forever a dream.

Parted by death - too early, too soon - our far away land is as far as the moon.

But in my distant dream – in the far away land –

He whispers:

“My love, I’m still holding your hand

In this place made of passion – we will live forever.

Our souls – entwined – by our love – together.”

By Carina Lindberg

So, did you finish reading it? What do you think? Please, tell me your honest opinions, they will help me grow and learn.

Oh, and did you see the story I published on My Patreon page the other day? It's public and for free, so head on over there and have a look. 

Love//

Carina

Fiction; The Memory of Laura

The smooth, deep voice hit Laura's ears like a car in full speed hits a brick wall. She couldn't see the person owning the voice, but she didn't have to. She knew who it was. She had hoped never to hear it ever again, at least not in real life. In her head she could hear it every day. And every night. There was no escaping it. A cold chill went through her, and she shrugged as the hairs all over her body stood straight up. She was too afraid to turn around and look at him. She didn't want him to see her. She didn't want to see him! Ever again! At this point she didn't think he had seen her, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was glad she had new clothes on, including the hat she had bought just yesterday. It was the type that goes down and covers your ears, and ties under your chin. It would make it more difficult for him to recognize her. 

Thank God for winter! Laura thought to herself, shivering.

The commute train came to a stop and Laura got off, using all her effort not to run or draw attention to herself. It wasn't actually her stop, but she needed to find safety. Fast! Her heart was beating full speed, like if it was trying to leave her. Like it was trying to get away from this body that knew him. As the train left the station Laura turned around and looked in through the window, not being aware that she did so until her eyes met his. All air left her and her knees weaken. Laura felt as if she had died. She almost wished she did.

After what felt like an eternity and yet only a second all at once, but what actually was about five minutes, a train came going the opposite direction of where she had been going. Laura got on it. Still in kind of a haze, with her mind all blurry, but she was in survival mode now, escape was the only thing on Laura’s mind. To get away from this place, from him.

She had done it before and she can do it again. 

- Steve, he found me, Laura said to the man on the phone. I'm leaving here, where can I go?

Steve was the clever, gentle and handsome agent from the witness protection department that had helped her get a new life after she had witnessed against her father in the murder trial. Laura had seen her dad first strangle her mom, then brutally rape her dead body before sawing it into tiny pieces. Laura had been tied up with her eyelids taped open so she wouldn't miss a thing. After he was done he had fallen asleep, drunk, and Laura had managed to escape, thanks to him leaving the saw he had used on her mother close enough for her to move the chair over there and saw the ropes around her wrists off. Since Laura and her mom had been on the run from her father for years before he found them, and since she had seen what she had seen, she was now in the witness protection program. Laura wasn't even her real name. She wasn't really a brunette under that new winter hat.

The police was never able to find her mother's body, so it was Laura's word against her dad's. And even though the cops believed her, the evidence wasn't strong enough, and her dad was a complete charmer when he needed to be, so the jury had not convicted him. They had loved him. Everybody did. Except for Laura. And maybe Steve The Agent.

And now, he had found her. 

She rushed down the street to the waiting taxi, with her rucksack on her back, pulling her biggest suitcase, Laura got instructions from Steve on what to do and where to go. She nervously looked around her and told the taxi driver to drive her to the Airport. A brief moment of safety came over her, but it disappeared as soon as it came. She was far from safe yet.

Laura woke up a few hours into the flight, and squeezed herself out of her seat by the window. She was in big need of the toilet right now.

Oh yes, there's no queue! she cheered in her head while approaching the open door. 

Maybe I can finally start feeling safe! Laura thought. No way her father knew where she had gone.

It was Laura's last and final thought in life. As she entered the toilet a tall, blond man came up from behind and pushed her in at the same time as he slit her knife with a sharp plastic book mark he had smuggled in through security check. 

- Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. He whispered in his smooth, deep voice, when he closed to door from the outside.

Before anybody had noticed he had left it, he was back in his seat again. The flight was about to land.

Nobody noticed Laura’s dead body until everybody had left the plane. It took a few hours before Steve found out. He cried for her when he was the only one attending her funeral. Laura never made any friends during her haunted life on the run. She had always been too afraid to get close to anybody.

No matter how scared and haunted someone on the run is, from now on I will always tell them to live their lives, to have fun, love and laugh, Steve decided while driving home. I'll do it as a memory of Laura.

/Love Carina