The Unlucky 7

In mere seconds, destiny will rear her head.

Two extreme outcomes loomed. The non-existent air weighed heavily. Breathless.

Her blouse clung to her, begging for relief - adding to the discomfort of the blackness, the vacuum, the confined space.

She prayed.

Angry words filled the room inches above her head. Plans of eviscerating her slowly and denying her pleas for death. Bursts of maniacal laughter echoed into her chamber.

A tiny pebble released from his thick soles and rolled into the crack.

Did he notice? She dared not move; it rested on her cheek.

The stupid effin idiot had let his guard down. His ego and manhood were his weakness. Her stilettos sealed it.

She marveled at her adeptness - her swift action while he snored in contentment. The Lucky 7 spent years amassing their bounty through vile and nefarious means. It was for the children, her daughter's soul in which she sought retribution.

The accounts and passwords were strapped tightly to her chest. So too, was a plan B detonator.

Escape or death.

His eyes followed the path of the small stone.

The glint of the crowbar peeked through the crack, and the wood heaved.

Go time.

Destiny arrived.