MARGAUX
Blood. Blood was dripping from my forehead. It just occurred to me then that I had several wounds.
I must look worse than I was imagining myself as of the moment. But, I could hardly care about my appearance anymore. The soles of my feet must be bleeding too, the rough asphalt making scratches as I continued to run.
Panting, I tried to catch my breath. For a minute, I was tempted to look back and see if the Japanese Yakuza was chasing after me. Or if Mary was still running with me.
But I refused to slow down.
I muttered a curse, trudging through the quiet street, making sure to hide in the shadows, avoiding all streetlights. One eight of the neighborhood where I lived was composed of an entire Mafia community and right now, I can't trust anybody.
Though these people had worked with my father, I was aware that tonight there was a division of loyalties.
