She cocks the gun and points it towards me, her fingers poised on the trigger. ''Any last words? Make it quick, I have a hair appointment.''
When I woke up this morning, I never thought that I would die today. Of course, most people don't plan for death but I always thought my death would be when I'm old, frail and on a walking stick not like this, not in the hands of a psychopath.
I scan the area with my mind's eye, looking for a route to escape or at least something to be used as a weapon. I can't run, she'd shoot me dead in an instant. I can't attack her, my hands are tied…literally.
''I-''
Suddenly, I hear headlights and what seems like a car pulling up in front of the bakery. Patricia makes a motion for me to shut up with her hands and she rushes to the window. ''Looks like we actually do have company,'' she muses. Pulling down the blinds, she turns to me. ''If I so much as hear you mumble, you're dead.''
