Not Strong Enough v2

Revision for content and ultimately length

Three gunshots resonated in the barren alleyway in the midst of the ever-noisy New York City. A body hit the ground with a dull thud, followed by the slapping of the shooter’s footsteps against the pavement. Concealed by the shadows of the looming buildings creating the narrow passage, the victim, a young woman just outside a few years into her 20s, lay dying, soaking in a pool of her own blood. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, layering the sidewalks and streets with the thick, heavy flakes of a mid-December snowfall. The young victim's breaths puffed in the air in a short, ragged rhythm. '...The wrong place at the wrong time... The police describe a lot of murders like that… I really in the wrong place at the wrong time…? Or was someone waiting for me?' She walked the same path every night; cut through the same alleyway, a shortcut back to the apartment she shared with her fiancé. It was predictable, consistent: work, if scheduled that day, classes, and through that alleyway back home.

She slowly turned her head, gaze upward, studying the white-gray light the wispy snow clouds cast on the dark winter's sky. She wasn't panicking. Perhaps the cold numbed both her body and mind. Or perhaps, knowing she’d seen her mother and father again soon gave her comfort. One thought disturbed her though; her fiancé would be alone. Karei… The thought of her lover's face brought a dazed smile to her face. She could clearly see the yellow-hued female's face in her mind. That smirk on her face. That look in her eyes describing an attitude problem without comparison. The bangs that swept across her eyes on those rare occasions she let her hair down. She would miss her beloved dearly.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, though the smile remained. It was so cliché; she’d always thought it was some Hollywood movie-perpetuated crock of s**t, but her life actually flashed before her eyes. Starting with her earliest memory, moving to the States as a little girl, continuing on through the short timeline that made up her life. Numerous birthdays, first days of school, visits to family in Japan…her mother’s death in middle school, meeting Karei in high school. Though her mind, the cruel b*****d it was, stopped on an event that had traumatized her a teenager; a lone, red-thorned rose among a sea of white.

A trail a crimson crept down the sidewalk of the gently sloping hill, the source seeming to be at the corner of 5th and Main. It caught the eye of passing pedestrians (those out after midnight anyway) yet none followed it for fear of what may lie at the end; however, the two that did stop were both young women, nearing the end of their high school careers and newly dubbed “adults”. They were dressed comfortably but nicely, returning from a night about the city. One, smirking and murmuring quietly to the other, bore dark hair falling just passed the bases of her shoulder blades. Her eyes were the color of lightning streaking across the sky. The other, crimson hues wide and pale cheeks flushed the same color, carried rust-colored waves of thick, shining hair to her waist. Her efforts to cease the inappropriate conversation the other was attempting to initiate were futile. The dark-haired female's right arm was draped about the other's waist. Her hand sneakily slid downward on the rosy-cheeked female and quickly, playfully, groped her a*s with a look of satisfaction in her expression.

“Karei!” A surprised squeak slipped past her lips and she jumped; her voice rose an octave. “Honestly! That’s highly inappropriate! We’re out… in… public…” She trailed off, her brows furrowing. She noticed the change in the other’s expression, and it was hard not to notice her coming to a grinding halt.

"Mariko... I smell blood..." The playful tone dissipated quickly, the look of pride now replaced by discomfort and protective disturbance. She drew the shy one close, pulling her to stand behind her.

"Blood...?" Mariko quirked a brow. “Karei…” She nodded her head toward a trail near their feet. Her eyes traced it up the slope and to a still form on the sidewalk ahead. It caught the light of the moon above and what little light surrounded them. “We should go-“

“F**k no. We call the cops. Now.” She was already pulling out her phone, shaking her head.

“No… I can already see the shine of the badge on his chest, can faintly make out the navy blue uniform and the utility belt. He, or she, is an officer. I need to know. It could be a friend of my father’s from the police station. Then we can call. I just need to know first.” Mariko had made up her mind and was already breaking away from her lover, walking up the gentle incline. “…I don’t hear any thoughts. Whoever they may be, they’re dead. Even in a state of sleep or unconsciousness, we dream… or have some sort of thought. I hear you, a few others around… but nothing from the officer.” Her brows furrowed.

“Wait-! Goddammit, Mariko!” Karei swore under her breath in Japanese and jogged a few paces to catch up. She intertwined their fingers and stayed just a few paces ahead. She didn’t like the situation, but she could understand, and Mariko made up her mind… Like she could stop her.

At the peak of the incline was the corpse of an officer. Mariko was correct. Male, lying in a pool of his own blood. The bloody trail had dribbled from his corpse and down the asphalt.

Mariko came to a grinding halt, jerking Karei backward to stumble backward into her. “No… Jesus… No…” Tears welled in her eyes, streamed down her cheeks. She recognized that rusty red hair, those glossy, crimson irises… “No…” She shook her head, the tears dripped from her cheek, sobs rising her throat. Her hand fell away from Karei’s. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” The same hair and eye color she’d inherited. This couldn’t be-. “…Dad. God, no. Please. This is… this is a nightmare.” The sobs broke free, her body shaking. Her arms wrapped around her torso, but she couldn’t pull her eyes from the cold, motionless corpse that had been her father a few hours prior.

Karei could only stop and stare, a look of shock set deep in her expression. A muttered, “…Ray…” was the only word, his name, she could utter. She checked the badge. The last name�"f**k. It really… it really was him. No. Mariko’s sobs pulled her out of the stupor. She quickly dropped to her knees, pulled the other into her arms. “Shh, shh. Don’t…don’t look… Mariko. Please, just don’t look.” She pulled her face into the fabric of her shirt, kneeling in front of her to block her view. Her knees dropped into a frigid liquid. Sticky… Blood. She could smell it. She forced herself not to shudder, running her fingers through her sobbing girlfriend’s hair while fighting her own tears. She couldn’t believe it herself. Why…? Why Mariko, of all people, to come across this? Her own father…

'... Four to the chest, barely missing any vital organs...' The tears sliding down her cheeks were nearly frozen solid. 'One through his throat, hardly barely nicking his carotid artery...' The strained, ragged breaths puffed clouds of smoke in the air. They slowed, became more irregular, less frequent. '... and a final shot to the head. …How much did he suffer…?' The edges of her vision blackened, the void creeping inward. She no longer felt the snow around her, piling atop her body. The busy streets and bustling sounds of the big city were muffled, distant. The pain was gone. Where was the gunshot wound? She couldn't remember anymore.  Her eyes drifted shut. She was tired. So… tired… 'I'll just rest for a few minutes.' Denial. "Forgive me…" She mustered what little strength she had left. “I wasn’t… strong enough…” A final strained, cloud of breath. The alleyway was still once more.