Lilac
I secure the chain lock on the shop's front door, making damn sure it's bolted tight. This part of the city isn't exactly a hotspot for late-night strolls. No, it's more like a breeding ground for those lowlife scumbags who think robbing innocent folks is a noble profession. Just take a look at the ransacked buildings scattered across this neighborhood. It's a haunting sight.
I glance around, my eyes scouring the dimly lit streets. Damn, I hate walking these mean streets after dark.
Thank the heavens, I don't spot any shady characters lurking about. Except for the occasional passersby, heads down and moving fast, there's nothing out of the ordinary. A fleeting moment of relief washes over me.
Taking a deep breath, I let out a sigh of relief as I step onto the road, absentmindedly twirling my apartment key between my fingers. My place is just a couple of blocks away, so I figure I can hoof it.
The sound of my footsteps echoes through the eerily quiet street, accompanied by the gentle drip-drip of water from the rusty pipes clinging to the aging buildings. This part of town is like a living relic, frozen in time. Most of these structures have seen better days, in dire need of a facelift and a touch of modernization.
I keep my gaze lowered when, out of the corner of my eye, a black van catches my attention. Too damn familiar for comfort. Instantly, tension coils around my gut, and my heart goes into overdrive, pounding away as I contemplate my options: fight or flight?
My eyes widen a fraction, sweat beading on my forehead, and my breath catches in my throat.
Flight, my mind screams. No way in hell am I taking on those five goons leaping out of that van, brandishing wickedly long metal pipes. I bolt, legs pumping as adrenaline courses through my veins, desperate to escape their clutches.
Damn it! Their shouts and footsteps reverberate through the night, a dissonant symphony of pursuit that sets my nerves ablaze. Accompanied by the low growl of an engine, their presence draws closer. I steal a quick glance, my eyes catching the calculated sluggishness of the van's movement. Fear snakes its way through my veins, coiling tighter with each passing second.
Are they enjoying this chase, relishing the anticipation before finally snaring their prey?
Unrestrained fury and fear eats at me as I sprint through the dimly lit alley, my breaths shallow and ragged. How foolish of me to believe I had successfully evaded those loan sharks after paying the interest 24 days ago! They've been hounding me for weeks.
The relentless thump of my heart echoes in my ears, a cacophony of anxiety threatening to break free from the confines of my ribcage as their heavy footfalls and labored breathing draw nearer. Casting a furtive glance over my shoulder, I catch a glimmer of the devil in their eyes, illuminated by the piercing headlights of the van.
I skid to an abrupt halt, my back pressed firmly against the coarse brick wall, taking a moment to steady my breath, the taste of fear lingering on my tongue.
Dread clenches my stomach, its icy grip tightening as the gravity of my situation dawns upon me. I had carelessly plunged myself into a debt of epic proportions, the interest growing each day. I had always been meticulous with my finances, but an unfortunate sequence of events forced me into the clutches of these malicious predators.
They can't catch me! I tell myself. The rhythm of their footsteps grows nearer with every passing heartbeat. My eyes snap open, fixating upon the advancing thugs.
There's nowhere to run, though.
"What do you want?" I manage to muster, my voice betraying a trembling vulnerability. It is a futile question, a desperate plea of some sort.
"Come on, it's not as if you don't know. We want our money, Lilac," one of the men hisses with contempt. "You have evaded us for weeks, and our patience has run bone dry."
"Please," I plead, my voice trembling on the edge of a whisper. "Just give me a little more time. I swear, I will repay you. I'm organizing a celebrity wedding, and the much-needed funds will be in my possession then."
The loan sharks sneer, their lips curling with scorn, as if mocking my desperate pleas.
"We've heard those empty promises before, my dear," one of them scoffs, twirling a menacing metal pipe in his hands. "But let me remind you of a timeless adage: time is money. We have endured for far too long. If you do not settle your debt promptly, our boss's patience will burst. And believe me, the consequences will be dire."
"I understand, I truly do," I respond, the weight of desperation hanging heavily in my voice. "But I am paying this time. The wedding is close, and I'll get the funds."
The loan sharks exchange doubtful glances, their skepticism etched upon their hardened features.
"You're a famous wedding planner, will believe you this time," the other man interjects, his voice laced with a sinister undertone. "Should you break your promise, the only event you'll be orchestrating is your own funeral."
I plunge into the depths of despair, my insides twisting with a gnawing sense of foreboding. This is becoming even more dangerous.
The loan sharks exchange a glance, amusement gleaming in their eyes, tinged with malice. Then, one of them emits a dark chuckle.
"We can do that, my dear," he sneers. "Run now. Get out of our sight, and for your own sake, don't cast a backward glance."
They don't need to urge me any further. I pivot on my heels and sprint down the shadowed alleyway, my legs propelling me forward with an intensity born of desperation. Yet, despite my efforts, the haunting rumble of the van's engine trails behind me, a relentless predator closing the distance with alarming speed, only to mockingly decelerate when it draws close.
How on earth does that van manage to navigate through this narrow alley?
These men are toying with my mind, playing a wickedly twisted psychological game. Their unsettling chuckles reverberate in the air, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
With determination, I make yet another sharp left turn, seeking refuge in an even smaller, hidden alley. Thankfully, the van is far too bulky to follow me inside. It flickers its headlights mockingly at the entrance, teasing me, before begrudgingly retreating.
"Dear God," I gasp, my breath ragged as I wearily rub my face. Could it truly be over? Tears stream down my cheeks as I collapse onto the grimy ground beside a trash bin.
My body trembles uncontrollably as sobs wrack my fragile form, a torrent of emotion breaking through the dam of composure I had desperately clung to. I clutch at my chest, desperately trying to contain the overwhelming anguish threatening to consume me whole. If only I hadn't placed my trust in that deceitful accountant. She lured me with promises of a lucrative investment opportunity, presenting seemingly irrefutable evidence of her own prosperity. She ran away with my money!
Then the pandemic struck, mercilessly battering the already fragile wedding industry. Even with my fame as a celebrity wedding planner, the business suffered a devastating blow. No one wanted to get married during those times. The truth is, the title of a celebrity wedding planner is nothing but a hallowed illusion, an empty shell of grandeur. I often find myself reduced to a mere errand runner for self-absorbed stars, enduring their callous treatment and petty demands.
I lost it all—the hard-earned savings I painstakingly accumulated and the very funds that sustained the shop. I cannot burden my friends with this revelation. They, too, have problems, and I refuse to heap more upon their shoulders. Clutching my knees tightly, I sway back and forth, finding solace in the rhythmic motion that brings a fragile sense of calm as the minutes tick by.
Slowly, I rise from the ground, my body leaning heavily against the comforting support of the alley walls. My senses remain acutely attuned as I look out for the presence of those bastards. I inhale deeply, relief washing over me as their figures remain absent from view. Determined to leave, I quicken my pace. However, a wave of sheer horror crashes over me as I glance apprehensively over my shoulder, only to witness the van resurfacing from yet another concealed alley.
The driver rolls down the window, an insidious grin spreading wickedly across his face. I stumble backward, a surge of adrenaline propelling me to regain my footing, and I resume my frenzied run. Darting left and right, I navigate the intricate maze of alleyways and side streets, hoping to shake them off my trail. Yet, no matter the twists and turns I take, they persistently remain hot on my heels, as if possessing an uncanny ability to anticipate my every move.
"Come on, sweetheart," one of them jeers from inside the van, their voice dripping with malice. "Run faster! If we catch you, we might as well make the interest worth our while."
Their taunts cut deep, fueling my desperation as they revel in this sadistic game of cat and mouse. The sound of their derisive laughter grates on my nerves, causing me to flinch as I push my weary body to its limits, striving to increase my speed. But a sinking feeling settles in my gut, telling me I've reached a dead end.
I sprint aimlessly, driven solely by fear and instinct, oblivious to my surroundings. My legs throb with exhaustion, and perspiration pours down my face like a torrential downpour.
Then, like a beacon of hope, Harvey St. materializes before me. Surely they won't pursue me down this bustling road? The van revs its engine menacingly, spurring me to summon every ounce of strength I have left.
My heart pounds like a frenzied drum, propelling me forward at a breakneck pace, while my protesting muscles beg for rest. My lungs burn with each labored breath, yet I refuse to stop as I race towards safety.
I burst out of the alley, stumbling into the embrace of the busy street, my exhausted legs betraying me. Without warning, I collide headlong into a sleek black Rolls Royce. A resounding thud fills the air as my body connects with the hood, sending shockwaves of pain through my body. Time seems to slow as the impact propels me several meters forward.
Lying on the ground, dazed,disoriented and in pain, I gaze back at the alley where the van ominously flashes its headlights before slowly retreating.
"Good," I whisper to myself, relief mingling with lingering dread. "They won't be coming after me." Darkness encroaches upon my consciousness, pulling me into a sweet embrace of oblivion.