Emiliano Mancilla

2 minutes to start. 

Noon, Gina is roped in the basement of this abandoned house at the end of the suburbs, the whole street is empty with the exception of a parked truck, there are two guys guarding the building. 

1 minute 

My ride is located in a blind spot two blocks away, full tank, ready to escape. 

30 seconds

I’m in the backyard watching the mobility inside, one unlucky fella went downstairs and the other is in the living room. 

Green light 

I get inside through the bathroom window as quiet as I can and quickly proceed to open the door, handling the knob with the delicacy of a sculptor, the sound waves of “Living on a thin line” by The Kinks suddenly charm the situation as I’m walking on my tip toes, glued to the wall through the hall, and there’s the first victim, sitting on the couch, looking at the entrance, his nape resting between his palms. 

I jump and put him sleep with my chemical-soaked handkerchief and immediately head carefully downstairs, once reaching some visibility I appreciate the last guy dancing at the rhythm of the music, knife on the left hand and cigar on the right, lip synching the chorus and licking Gina’s cheek, who trembles and sobs right after feeling his wet tongue rubbing her skin, the black watercolor tears slide like a stream in a volcano. 

I notice a metal bar leaning against the wall two meters away, I hurry up, grab it and bat his head like Babe Ruth in his golden years in the last “What are we supposed to do?”, take Gina on my shoulders and proceed to leave the house. 

I get her in the car and take the highway to a far far away location, the sun shines, the sky displays the most beautiful blue that any man has ever seen, and the road is empty, the air smells like victory, the air smells like freedom, the air smells like redemption. 

I drive for 3 hours until I see some lonely shimmering land, far from danger where to park, I turn off the engine, prepare my voice and start my recital, my great apology faster than a lightening. And the words relate two thousand stories, who I was, how bad I felt, how have I changed and how I am determined to live our own adventure, a batch of new ideas and possibilities are attached in the script, the lines feel so good every time they get out of my mouth that after finishing, a satisfactory exhalation closes the show. 

Then I turn my head to Gina, waiting for her to kiss me, that kiss that marks a successful ending in every glorious movie, but when I see her something strange happens. She looks pale, there’s no movement else than a soft breathing in her body and her eyes are pointing to the floor, I grab her arm and shake her off waiting for some kind of response, but she remains immobile… weak… cold.

By the time I saved her, she wasn’t there anymore. 

END