Fiction

Flash 300: Powerless

writing

I stop hammering on the glass. There comes a point where the anger runs out and is replaced by a singularity in your gut that takes the air out of you, and you feel a great emptiness well up inside sucking everything away. Your heart drops and your breath gets caught in your throat as it hangs on for dear life. She puts her hand up to the glass, mirroring mine, and stares back at me with eyes wider than I’ve ever seen before. There’s fear there, fear and sadness. I can feel tears welling up and I try to blink them back but my lower lip gives way and a barely stifled cry leaves me. She comes closer, moving her head to grab my eyes and lock them into hers, I try to shake my head in disbelief but she is too strong. All I can see is her. She strokes the glass as if it were my face and whispers something. I can’t hear what it is but I can make out the three words well enough and the pit in my stomach lurches once again, reaching for my sinking heart. Everything we had lies in front of me, every little moment I can read in her deep, blue eyes. A little smile of recognition dances across her face and she playfully lowers her eyelids for a moment. There is a muzzle flash, I see it out of the corner of my vision, just beyond her left ear. There is a cascade of blood and I recoil even though I know there’s six inches of bulletproof glass shielding my face. When I open my eyes a split second later she is gone and I hear the muffled sound of her body hitting the floor and everything goes red.