— Bring the bag…

Black.
Green.
Black.

— BRING THE BAG ! shouted the stranger.

Green.
Black.

— You mother fucker better hand over this bag…

Green.
Black.
Green.

The whole world spinning around like a carousel. Sun blinding shards, menacing and blinding shards, melting retina. Trees, high trees silhouettes, extending to the sky, surrounding him, grey blotches in his vision.

Black.
Green.

A rude stranglehold brutally brought him back.
Sitting precariously on the car’s trunk — a bright red car — cordless puppet.

They were only two in the field.
Him and the stranger.
Birds had stopped singing, wind had stopped howling.

Him, the stranger, and the bag.

Green.
Black.

Blood started dripping on his white shirt, injected eyes and the vapor of the stranger’s blazing breath over his face. Words wouldn’t get out. He didn’t even want them to get out…

Soulless, he was staring at the stranger.

Calmly, he wondered if it was the last thing he would see…

Green.
Black.
Green.

The stranger’s eyes. Beautiful pale green eyes.

— You really want to die, don’t you ?

The car’s door ajar, a light brown leather bag throning on the left padded seat. Quite close, but not easily reachable by an arm stretch.

— ANSWER !

The stranger released his grip and slapped him, sending carmine droplets on the bodywork.

Tell him…
Tell him what’s in the bag…

With a feeble hand, he leaned on the car taillight and jumped off, not bothering a sentence to address his tumultuous companion.

Green.
Black.

Bending over the safety belt, his fingers attained the handle and as he tightened his grip, an unspeakable pain caught him off-guard. A fist full of spine knuckles perforating his stomach, shredding his viscera. Causing him to interrupt.

His fingers heavily cowering, slowly pushed outwards, hydraulic press clamp over his wounded hand, taking a delicate pleasure, flipping leisurely the weak skin to an angle that only started becoming unnatural.

Vainly battling the invisible threat, he began fussing his hand, slamming it around brutally to hurt his assailant, toppling the leather bag under the seat. An incomprehensible form of art, repainting the car’s inside velvet red.

More…
You want more…
Never enough…

— WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING !

The voice erupted, gunshot words, as the stranger savagely grabbed his legs and threw him out in the field with a monstrous strength.

The glance he gave him was one of a inhuman beast, saliva trickling from his upturned lips.

But he turned around back to the car, hastily jumping in, inspecting the damage done to the bag and its inside.

Green.
Black.
Green.

Dirt over his clothes, a simple white shirt and long black jeans. His right hand was still trembling, scarlet soaked. Couldn’t move a finger. But the ghost clamp had released it.
With his valid hand, he patted over his body, evaluating the harm.
Reaching his jeans pocket, he surreptitiously stopped.

He was roughly one meter away from the car’s door.

It’s easy, right ?
It always is.
They never know before it’s too late.

The stranger’s back was turned to him, rummaging the bag with grunting noises.

Green.
Black.
Black.

His hand closed, firm.
The sharp edge reflecting the sun’s glares.

Black.
Black…

Just.
One.
More.
Quiet.
Step…

Blue.