I stare sullenly out the large storefront window of the spa. I’m tired, and bored. The only bright spot of the morning is that no one seems to have followed us; perhaps this time it really is just Uncle’s problem. I plunge my hands back into my sweatshirt pockets, feeling my gun on the right, and my new cell phone on the left. Mireille insisted we stop and buy them on the way here. To me, it’s just more weight to bear.
“Is Ruthie done yet?” The old man sitting across from me yells out. He’s been doing that all morning. I glare at him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice me.
“No sir, she’s getting her facial.” The girl behind the counter answers him patiently.
He huffs and shakes out the newspaper. I swear he’s read the same thing all morning. I stand up and stare out the window, then turn and go to the counter.
“Mireille-” I start, but the girl waves me off back to my chair.
“Getting a massage, then her facial.” she quips quickly, and goes back to her computer.
“Fine.” I grumble, and go back to the window. How putting mud on your face solves anything is beyond me. I look down at my drawing pad and decide I have enough time to go by the park for a bit before she’s done; it doesn’t seem that we are in danger today.
“Is Ruthie done yet?” I hear him say again as I open the door. I break into a run, glad to get away.

It’s so warm out I’ve taken off my sweatshirt and am laying on my side, my sketchbook open but empty. The warmth of the sun has served to soothe some of the fear I’ve been feeling. The park looks innocent enough today, with people, children and dogs milling about. The two men I saw yesterday are nowhere in sight; I wish I could just lay back and sleep, but the part of me that is Noir will not let my vigilance lapse. Yawning, I go to roll to my other side and am aware of a blur of motion coming at me. I throw up my arm but it’s too late- my face is besieged by happy licking tongue, attached to a wiggling grey terrier.
“Scruffy!” a woman’s voice sounds near me. “Behave yourself!” She kneels down next to me and reaches over.
“I’m so sorry.” She says, and I feel a sudden sting in my arm. I yelp and toss off the dog. I roll to my knees, and crawl over to my sweatshirt. Before I can grab it, she’s picked it up, stepping on my hand.
“Oh my, I’m just so clumsy today!” she smiles down at me. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail that looks deceptively innocent. She drops down to the ground so her eyes meet mine. Something terrible is happening to me. I’m weak and trembling all over, and I can feel the drool coming out of my mouth.
“My lady, if you want to live, you won’t fight me.” She winks at me, and picks up my tablet, tucking it in with my sweatshirt. “Because I’ve got the needle that can reverse what I’ve just done to you.”
“No-no.” is all I can choke out, and I feel myself trembling uncontrollably as I collapse onto the grass.
“Lambert! She’s having another seizure. We’ll have to take her to the doctor.” She announces loudly as she stands up.
“Of course my love.” A young man in jeans hurries over. Scruffy noses at my face, licking me, but I can’t move to stop him. My body twitches and jerks on its own. I can feel the crowd gathering. I want to call for help, but my mouth only opens silently.
“My little sister is having a seizure. My husband and I can handle it.” The woman announces to the crowd, and I hear people walk away. He picks me up, and she follows next to him, my belongings in her arms.
“Hurry Lambert, she’s smaller than I thought.” She breaks into a run, and he follows her, my head slapping into his chest. I’m having trouble breathing now, and the twitching is getting worse. I’m dying, I can feel it. I was so foolish to leave her- and now I’ll never see her again.
Mireille, forgive me.

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