Ten Steps, Part Two: Ten minutes to Freedom

Ding! My worn black cell phone vibrated aggressively, jerking me from my holiday slumber. My fingers still ached from the hours of chocolate making, probably lacking fingerprints at this point. The red silk of my Mrs. Claus' outfit was soft against my slightly dry skin. Jon texted me saying that he is ten minutes away. Giggling to myself, I just couldn’t wait to surprise him. Looking in the wooden antique mirror in my bedroom, my trembling fingers fiddled with my braided hair.

Bang! Pans crashed to the floor in my kitchen, a lump forming in my throat. The time flashing back at me was telling that only a minute passed. Ten minutes was all I had to wait to get help. Collecting my fraying nerves, I gracefully silenced my phone. Terror widened my eyes, heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs. Sprinting to the door, the lock clicked shut just in time. Shadows appeared in the light of the door, boots that seemed similar to Ivan’s the night he escaped.

Oh, sweetheart!” Ivan’s cold voice cooed. “Juliette, open the door and we can talk.” No way in hell was I ever going to talk to him unless he was behind bars. Still, my heart stopped beating, his fists banging against the door. Sighing, my black boots shimmered in the corner. Get them on and get out, I told myself. First call nine one one, no such luck for there was a stunning lack of service. He must have used a signal blocker, what a great time to live in the obscurity of land lines. A cold breeze nipped at my bare skin, goosebumps bubbling up. Snow started to fall heavily, swirling around nearly obscuring his sidekick. This time it was a shorter chubby man who looked a lot like his brother.

Boom! The door crashed down, a cloud of dust exploding around us. Silver glinted in the yellow light of the bedroom. A sick grin curled on his lips, darkness twinkling in his eyes. Nausea washed over me, his eyes scanning me up and down. A strange mixture of disgust and horror contorted my face. His black Italian suit looked impeccable, like he had not been on the lamb for the past couple of weeks. Only his beard was grown out, making him look like a mountain man.

“Get out you disgusting greedy pig.” I blurted shakily, scanning for a weapon. “I am not your piece of meat to be ogled.” Chuckling to himself, a sneer formed on his lips. Crap no visible weapons. Worse yet, my gun was essentially useless at this point, just sitting in my night stand.

“You got dressed for me.” He mused, rubbing his chin. “How lovely of you.” Tilting his head, he glanced over at my night stand. Shit, he saw me looking at it. Why did I just tell him about where the gun was? Gulping, he launched himself at me. The breath was knocked out of me, his built body knocking me to the ground. Heels, my boots have heels. Soreness erupted in my leg, my arms pulling me towards my boots. Pain shot through me, the tip of the cleaver sticking out of my hand. A scream exploded from my painted lips, the boot mere inches from my grasp. Desperately, they grabbed the boot. Hot whiskey breath beat on the back of my neck, a second pair of boots crashing up the stairs.

“Screw off!” I shouted, slamming the heel into his right eye. Screams poured from his lips, his body crashing back into my large bureau. Gritting my teeth, my left hand ripped the cleaver out of my hand. Hot blood flooded onto the soft tan carpet, my towel from earlier just next to me. Rolling over, the soft white cotton of the towel dying red. A second wave of nausea coursed through my body, his eyeball stuck on the end of my heel. Pink strings hung from the back of it, just swinging in the winter breeze. His short sidekick rushed towards me, my jello legs struggling to stand. Breathing deeply, the carpet fibers caressed my toes. My leg was still sore from the leg wound a few weeks ago. A loud thud crashed next to me, his sidekick falling to the ground comically. Right, now was not the time to laugh. Ivan’s hand grasped the bureau behind him. Growls tumbling from his deep frown, fury burning in his eye.

“You fucking bitch!” He hollered, stumbling towards me. “You are going to pay for this. What are you doing on the ground you fool!” His partner shifted uncomfortably, telling me it was time to go. My lame leg thudded down the wooden stairs, the two men shouting upstairs for me to stop. Shock widened my eyes, my foot missing the last three steps. Sharp agony wracked every muscle, my body tumbling to the bottom of the stairs. Roots of my hair screamed, a gloved hand grabbing my braid. Evil laughter erupted behind me, Ivan dragging me back up the stairs. Hardwood smashed into my back again and again, only hurting my body more. With an angry chuck, I was back on my bed. Hastily, white zip ties chained me to my headboard. Horror washed over my face, blood dripping down Ivan’s empty sockets.

One, the short man strapped my feet to the foot board. Two, Ivan’s hand traced my cheek, sickening my mind. Three, trembling with fear, my eyes watched him walk over the worn night stand. Four, the wheel of the drawer squealed open, the revolver glimmering in the light. Five, metal bullets slid into each chamber, each one signaling a possible end. Six, our favorite song turns on from the black CD player next to me, my heart dropping into my stomach. Seven, a cold metal muzzle was jammed into the side of my forehead, cold sweat dripping down my forehead. Eight, the safety clicked off, the very sound making me quake with fear. Nine, his bloody finger wrapped around the trigger. Ten, my eyes closing shut, the trigger creaking.

Boom! His dead eye was staring into mine, my heart pounding a mile a minute. His perfect hair was matting with fresh blood. The white sheets staining red with his leaving life, the gun falling off of the bed. A bullet shot out cutting into the ceiling, Jon snipping the zip ties off of me. Relief washing over me, Jon smiling over me. Snow dusted his weighty gray wool jacket, his black slacks flowing around his tall legs.

“You okay, darling?” He inquired, looking into my eyes. “Sorry I was running late.” My lips parted to respond, the short man popping up behind him. His fist smashed into his face, knocking him to the floor. Red blood flowed down his nose, the short man breathing heavily on the ground. At least he isn’t dead, my mind comforted itself. Concern flashed on Jon’s face at the sight of my wrapped hand. Red and blue lights flashed outside the house, sirens screaming. The short man popped up and jumped out the window. The snow crunched beneath him, no footsteps being heard after. Jon carried me to the window, only to see a pool of blood flowing around his small chubby body. Officers surrounded him, looking up at us. EMT's rushed into my room, sitting me back down on the bed. A blonde haired EMT examined my hand, wrapped it. He turned to Jon, a frown twisting his lips.

“This seems to be okay, but if you want a ride to the hospital I can give you one.” He explained gently. “It just missed a major nerve. However, the police will probably want to talk to you.” His black shoes clicked down the stairs, a short female officer sauntered into the room.

“Thank you sir, for taking down Ivan.” She thanked him graciously. “She would be dead without you.” Equipment clicked together, the officer approaching me. Lavender wafted up my nose, comfort washing over me. Her copper eyes darted between mine, and the eyeball sticking onto the heel.

“Seems you put up a hell of a fight.” She joked warmly, examining my hand. “You certainly gave him a heel of a time. Keep that spirit up, kiddo. See you at the station in the morning for your statements. Unfortunately, you do have to leave.” Jon gathered up a bag of our clothes, and helped me downstairs. He sat me down on the couch, put on my winter boots. A detective ushered us out to Jon’s car. Jon sat me down gently, clicking in my seatbelt. Sighing, he plopped down in the driver’s side. The engine roared to life, sweet slumber pleading with me to just close my eyes. Warm darkness embraced me in her ample arms.

The bright morning sun blinded me, a light green room encompassing me. Dark green comforters covered the bed. Panic stopped my heart, realizing that Jon was not there. The door handle turned slowly, my trembling hands grabbing my phone. Air rushed around me, my phone slamming into Jon’s forehead.

“Ow.” He grumbled, setting down a box of donuts, and two cups of hot chocolate. “I should have announced myself.” The corner of the bed sank down, his fingers intertwined with mine. His arms wrapping around mine, his hand lifting my chin. My heart was fluttering rapidly, his lips pressed against mine hungrily. Pulling away, our faces flushed bright red.

“What do you think about my outfit?” I questioned, playing with the fluff on my outfit. “I dressed up just for you.” A sly grin danced across his face, his eyebrows raising coyly. Scarlet burning ever brighter on my cheeks.

“I suppose.” He mused, pulling me closer. “How would you like to become my Mrs. Claus?” His hand shuffled about in his pocket, a black box sat in his palm. He let go and got on one knee. Slowly the box creaked open, revealing a black ring with a teardrop ruby. Tears fell from my eyes, his face anxiously waiting for an answer.

“I will be your Mrs. Claus.” I wept, leaping down towards him. “I will always be your next time.” His arms wrapped around me, my lips kissing his. Pulling back, the ring slid onto my finger easily. Groaning we stood up, and sat down in the green kitchenette. This is the greatest Christmas ever.