by S.L. Jordan

🜝

Quiet as a mouse, I made my way around the counter. Slowly, I pushed the door open -pausing when it creaked- and crept into the back hallway. It was scarcely lit and the beating of my heart drummed loudly in my ears drowning out the buzz of the overhead lights. I tried controlling my breath, long slow inhales and exhales, like my instructor taught us. I needed to be in control. 

“My body is a weapon, and I yield it with precision and control”

Sliding one foot in front of the other I continued down the hallway, it showed evidence of a struggle; scuff marks and broken drywall. A smear of bright red blood leading the way. It was still wet to the touch and the metallic scent sent me into a haze. Not now, I thought. I couldn’t lose focus, anxiety caused the acid to swirl in the pit of my stomach. I channeled that energy outward. I slid my hand into the brass knuckles I kept in my sweatpants and followed the trail until I came upon the back door, Sunmil’s office I assumed.

Now, I could hear muffled sounds coming from the office. There was a sliver of light that spilled into the hallway. Shadows could be seen moving around in the room. 

“That is all the money we have in the safe” Sunny said, his voice filled with fear. There were two other men in the room with him, their gruff voices barking orders and threats. From a crack in the door, I spotted his family -wife and three boys- crouched in the corner held at gunpoint, while the other assailant forced Sumnil to give up the safe. Sunny’s face was badly bruised. The blood in my veins roared ferociously at the quiver in his voice and I kicked in the door taking the captors by surprise. Knocking the gun from his hand with a flying roundhouse kick, I crouched down and sweep him with a muay thai low kick. He went down and clipped his head on the corner of the desk, blood began pooling from his wound filling the room with a pungent metallic scent. Iron – I could taste it on my tongue – it fueled me on.  

I was so damned amazed with myself, but I didn’t have time to throw a parade before his partner in crime began throwing bottles at me. Adrenaline and anger propelled me forward. I was sick of people taking advantage of innocent people. I was sick of no justice. In between the rage, flying fists, and colliding bodies flashes of my mother lying on that living room floor struggling to take her last breath ran through my mind. My fists continued to pummel him as a warm mist sprayed across my face. 

He was unresponsive by the time Sunny could pull me away. My ragged breath filled the room. I couldn’t face Sunny and his family. No one had ever seen that side of me outside of the studio – hell I had never seen that side of me. His boys stared in awe as silent tears ran down their cheeks when their mother ran to me and wrapped me in the tightest hug. It was then I noticed I had taken some pretty solid rib shots. I winced. She spoke into my chest, a voice tinged with tears, “thank you” she whispered before returning to console her boys. 

Sunny grabbed my hand. The one with the brass knuckles still slick with blood. He just held it, gave me a squeeze.

“Leave before I call the cops” he said, and turned to his family to say “a masked person came in to save us.” They nodded in agreement.  

Yeah, that might be a good idea I thought. Walking back down the hallway and into the store I grabbed my Johnny Walker and took a swig with shaky hands. The rum raisin aroma filling my nostrils I felt every muscle in my body relax. Surprisingly, the heat of the drink felt cool as it made its way down. 

I strolled leisurely back to my apartment, the light of the moon guiding my way. The crisp night air mixed with the pepper sips of scotch had me on a high I never felt before. For the first time in years, I felt safe.  I could get used to this feeling. 

The End ….

or is it?