Choices

The train was almost empty; just me and a teenage boy. He was a walking cliché in a hoodie and sluggish jeans. I caught his eye but he looked away quickly. Something about him made my nerves prickle.

I watched the station slide up beside the train and stepped off. I could have called a taxi but it was a warm night so I decided to walk. It was few moments before I realised he was following me. His footsteps were barely audible in is spongy trainers but he was there. I could sense him.

The streets were well lit but it was late and the pavements were empty. I slowed down a little hoping he would pass by but he slowed down as well. I should have called that cab. I picked up speed ignoring the twinge of panic aching in my chest. He kept pace with me.

I had a choice; the alley was quicker but risky. I made my decision and hoped I wouldn’t regret it. I heard him turn into the alley behind me, he was very close. I knew I couldn’t escape the alley even if I ran so instead I stopped. I bent down, pretending to tie a lace, giving him one last chance to walk past me but he did not. He stopped behind me, I waited. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up towards him.

“Give me your bag and the phone” he hissed into my ear.

I turned to face him. The smile on my face had thrown him, confusion flickered across his face. He took a step back but too late; I had already plunged the knife into his chest. I held it there as he dropped to his knees. He was still looking at me as I pulled the knife out and knelt beside him

“You made a bad choice didn’t you” I said, the smile still fixed on my lips, the flush of power fizzing round my body.

I ran the knife across his throat, stepping back to avoid the rush of blood. I ran then for real, ran home laughing all the way. I hadn’t got lucky like this for years. I always kept the knife on me, just in case. It’s a hobby you see, a sweet addiction but the taking of life is a difficult thirst to quench. Not many opportunities.

The house was dark as I washed the knife and returned it to the drawer. I cleaned myself and my clothes carefully. Afterwards, my skin still tingling, I tip toed into my daughters’ bedroom and kissed her on her beautiful head as she slept the heavy sleep of childhood. My husband stirred as I slipped in next to him.

“Did you have a good night?” he asked. His voice was thick with sleep.

“Oh yes” I whispered as I shuffled down beside him. “I had a very good night.”