Tabby Murray set silently on a park bench, holding a warm hot dog loaded down with ketchup. It was a lovely day- sun burning her skin, pigeons begging for food, second hand smoke damaging her lungs- business as usual. She was on her way home from her friend Haley's house, where they had been working on their science project. Working with molded bread was in no way appetizing to her, but she was hungry all the same. So she had stopped to eat a hot dog.
"Oh, no…" she muttered, as what appeared to be several ounces of ketchup fell to her brand new white t shirt. "Mom is going to kill me if I come home like this." Luckily she had a plan. A while ago, when she had first started going places after school instead of coming home, she'd come up with a plan. In such shirt-staining events, there was a wonderful shortcut that would have her home in less than five minutes. Only problem was the smell. But alleys smelled- she'd get used to it. This would be an adventure… a mystery solved. She chuckled, "The Mystery of the Stained T-shirt", perfect. Her defense against unruly hot dogs. Having gotten a good chuckle from her dilemma, she practically skipped down the alley, not so much as bothering to see which one it was.
It wasn't until she was three quarters of a mile down the alley and still getting nowhere that she noticed her mistake. This was the wrong alley. So…where was she? Her eyes wandered to the graffiti covered walls, hoping they held a clue to her location. Tabby then screamed. She hoped to God that the spray paint had nothing to do with this alley. Huge white skulls with fiery eyes adorned the worn brick, each labeled as if to symbolize a person. A gang hangout if she ever saw one. Immediately she tried to think of things to make herself feel better. Well, she thought, at least no one else is down here… I don’t think.
She hoped she hadn't spoken too soon.
Now to figure out how she could get home from here. Oh, and what to do about her now bright red T-shirt, which she had all but forgotten. She dabbed absentmindedly at it, although it was obviously garbage by now. It was merely a ritual to keep her in control, to stay in the driver's seat. It was a defense tactic against her own fear.
While the cogs in her mind turned, praising her amazing tactics, she was literally just standing in the middle of a dark, unfamiliar alley paying no attention to anything. So, she obviously didn't notice the footsteps behind her. She didn't notice them stopping mere inches behind her or the breathing down her neck. She was in another world until a hand pulled her out of it. The guy was covering her mouth with his grimy, filthy hand. It made her want to throw up. But obviously this was quite the impossible, as was screaming; though she tried it anyway. He only tightened his grip. It was then that she noticed the spray paint on his hand…
"You saw." He said, his deep, monotonous tone a threat in itself. "Saw what?" Tabby heard herself say, not aware that she had opened her mouth at all. The guy seemed to have little patience. "Him. That guy. What we had to do to him." His short, blunt, sentences were bugging her. He was treating her like a three-year-old. Nonetheless, she responded, "Well I didn't see anything. I think maybe you're harassing the wrong person." She was marveling at the clear, even tone her voice had as another man walked up. He stood in front of her, his tone more commanding than the other. "My, my, we seem to have us a real liar here. What do we do with liars, Smith?" His eyes went straight through her skull to the man behind her, his eyes cold and uncaring. "We… well, we get rid of them." "Right, Smith. You're catching on now." Sensing that it was a now or never type of situation, Tabby yelled out "I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! I'M JUST TRYING TO WALK HOME!" After she regained control of herself, she added in a quiet tone "Please let me go." She would get on her hands and knees right now if she had to. She didn't care. She had enough of a scare to last her for a long time.
There was a long, long silence as the second guy looked to the grimy one to answer. "Once you see," he finally began, hesitating, "You can't take it back. You're as good as dead." He followed this with a shake of his head, showing no mercy; feeling no guilt. "It'll only hurt for a minute." The second hissed, before reaching for his gun. The last thing on Tabby's mind was if the wound would be in the same spot as the ketchup, creating a rather clever illusion. Then she was sent into limbo.
"So what do we do with it? The body." Asked the newest one, obviously a little uneasy.
(started at 10)