WANTED

Wanted.
I pull my hood over my head nervously. I am a wanted man, again. The high pitch of the police sirens pierce my ears as they speed past. It has been two months since I murdered him. I wasn’t even planning to, just a robbery. But your animal instincts kick in when your victim pulls a gun on you. I speed off in the other direction. I keep driving, I need to find a motel. Three hours in the car and this same car has been following me for the entire trip. I pull into a petrol station and the car pulls into the next street and parks his car.
Does he know something? Is he a private investigator? I anxiously pull my pistol from under my seat he approaches my car, I wind down my window “Can I help you?” he shows his gun, “get out” he said calmly. He puts me in handcuffs and leads me to his car. As we approach his van he pulls his gun up to my head. He opens the back door and shoves me in.
He starts driving, I cannot see anything through the dark and fogged up windows. He stops the van and throws me out at a warehouse. He pulls the gun back up to my head and leads me to the entry. He swipes a card and the door clicks and opens with a creak. He sits me down on a chair and unlocks my hand cuffs. “I know who you are, and what you did, and I am here to protect you” he said peacefully. “The man you killed owed me money, and lots of it”, “I was going to kill him but you did my job for me, I am just returning the favour”
I trust the man, he leaves every now and again but there is always another person watching over me. I have been here for a two weeks now and I have not seen anything suspicious, just the same people coming in at the same time every day.
I am getting ready for sleep and I hear a knock on the door, “Who is it?” I ask fretfully, no reply. I step closer to the door to open it, I place my hand on the lock and, CRUNCH a forceful kick knocked down the door, taking me with it. “IT’S THE POLICE, STAY ON THE GROUND.” I look up at the officer. It is the same person that was protecting me.
As I sit in the interrogation room, I remember the times in my life that weren’t over shadowed by crime. Nothing, I remember nothing. I have spent most of my life pursued, and I am finally found.

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