Scarlet’s Tears

As Joshua Davis turned the key in his ignition, he saw the man dressed in black emerge from the shadows grab her around her waist, and pull her body into his.  She squirmed in protest, but not with any effort that would separate her from her captor.

“Behind you,” he yelled, but he was too far away, in his car, and too late.  Joshua u-turned and parked.  But, by the time he reached them and ran to the door, the man had pulled her inside of the bank, and kicked the brick aside locking them in.

“This has nothing to do with you,” the guy yelled through the glass door.  “Take your ass back to your car, and forget everything.”

Joshua searched Scarlet’s face, but there was nothing.  He didn’t know if she was in shock or maybe…maybe she knew the guy.  “I’m calling the police.”  He yanked at the door.  It was loose, but it would not give.

The man didn’t respond.  He stared wildly at Joshua, and then scanned the interior of the bank.  He looked trapped and scared, which made Joshua even more nervous…not for himself, but for her.

He didn’t’ know much about her, but she’d eaten in his restaurant almost every day…since that first day six months ago, but she never seemed to have much to say.  He thought she seemed sad.  Sad and alone.  Joshua yelled her name through the glass, “Scarlet.”

Why wasn’t she struggling harder?  Her brown skin darkened beneath the man’s grip around her neck.  She choked and coughed.  The man loosened his grip, and she gasped for air, hungrily.  The knife the man held at her throat pricked her skin.  Joshua watched as a drop of blood beaded on her neck.

The man with the knife yelled, “Go away.  Damn it.  Go away.”

Joshua banged on the glass.  “Not without her.  Let her go.”

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