SIXTEEN

at work went exceptionally well. I settled quickly into my role, and after a few days it felt as though I had worked there for an eternity. I was progressing well towards the bar test, using the same study skills which had got me through life pretty well so far. Even Arturo and I had settled into a peaceful routine; we alternated the nights that each of us cooked; I tied his tie each morning and kissed him on the lips; he hoisted me onto his shoulders and carried me into the shower.

It was almost as though we were normal people, living normal lives.

"How do I look?" I laughed, twirling before Arturo like I did every morning.

"Like I should drag you back into bed and make love to you all day," he smirked. His hands settled on my hips as he drew me closer, mine falling onto his broad, muscular shoulders. The way his eyes followed my lips made my heart flutter.

"Please," I breathed quietly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. I felt him tense beneath my fingers as I drew them over his chest and curled them around his tie. I tugged on it firmly.

"Don't you have work to go to?" he rasped.

"Don't you?" I countered. With one hand, he followed the curve of my waist and slipped his palm beneath my shirt, letting it rest firmly in the valley between my shoulder blades. The heat from his hand seemed to radiate through me; it spread between my legs.

My fingers found the knot of his tie and released it. The silky material whipped around his neck and pooled on the floor. With a smirk, Arturo glanced at it, and then back at me. I raised a brow and popped open the top button of his shirt.

"Florence," he warned, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist to hold me still. My smile widened but I paid him no heed - I continued to unfasten the buttons as if his touch hadn't ignited my veins. I could feel his warm breath rushing over my skin, causing it to prickle.

When I got to the fourth button, the material parted slightly and began to reveal Arturo's golden skin. I frowned, leaning closer, as a dark shape caught my eye. Hooking my fingers around one side of the shirt, I shifted it to expose his right shoulder and pec. My lips parted and a sharp breath escaped from them; Arturo's tattoo had changed. I prided myself on having memorised each of them, but the anatomical heart had grown. No longer did it sit alone, its arteries cut off and bare - instead flowers bloomed from them, plants unfurled their leaves from where blood should have flowed.

"Florence," Arturo repeated firmly.

"Hmm?"

"Were you listening?"

I pointed at the heart. "Your tattoo has changed."

"I'll take that as a no," he muttered. His gaze flickered down to his chest as if he hadn't even noticed before. "I was saying that you're going to be late for work."

I pushed the material back further, so that it completely exposed his shoulder and chest. As if by instinct I found my finger tracing the pattern - all of the flowers and their delicate leaves. The skin beneath them was still slightly pink and inflamed. I glanced up to see if my touch was painful, but Arturo showed no sign if it were. Instead, he watched me quietly, with a focused intensity.

"This was recent," I said, following the loop of a curling petal.

"Si," was the only reply I received.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, half hurt. Tattoos were major things, and it stung that he hadn't at least informed me that he was getting more done.

Arturo reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. He brought them up to his lips to kiss. "Would you have objected?"

I shifted my eyes back down to the tattoo. I certainly wasn't opposed to the new addition; before, the heart had stood alone, always looking beautiful but half finished. Suspended in the mid-air of his skin.

"No," I shook my head. "Now it looks like it's full of life."

Arturo's gaze was hooded. He nodded and moved my hand back over the tattoo, resting my palm against it and his palm against me.

"This is because of you," he said. "Before you I did not know love."

Immediately my hand pulled away from the tattoo and I took a step back. Arturo frowned.

"That thing is permanent you know," I said, feeling my pulse thrumming in my temples. Suddenly it had become hard to swallow, because this was major. He said it as if it was some painting he'd bought because it reminded him of me, like it was some painting he could throw away.

"That's the idea," he smirked, buttoning his shirt back up.

"But...but..."

"What are you panicking about?"

I straightened my shirt with a huff and turned around, beginning to pack things into my handbag. I threw in a moisturiser even though I'd never need it and the book I had been reading from my side of the bed. Anything was better than thinking about the magnitude of what Arturo had just said.

"Florence." Arturo caught my arm and turned me to face him. His eyes searched mine intently. "What is wrong?"

"Well, what if we broke up?" I snapped irritably. It felt as though the tattoo was some obligation, a contract binding our lives together. And of course I loved him and of course I wanted to be with him...but what if one day I didn't?

"It doesn't say "'Florence"'," Arturo pointed out coolly.

"But it's always going to be there. It will always remind you!"

"And if we broke up, you would want to forget me? Pretend I don't exist?" He raised a brow and I felt myself shrink back.

"I don't mean that," I backtracked. "It would just be painful, if we weren't in love anymore."

Arturo released me at last and moved to pick his tie up off the floor, meanwhile I remained paralysed. He slipped the silky red material around his neck and began expertly tying a knot.

"I don't believe people stop loving each other," he shrugged.

I wanted to reply, but my words got stuck in my throat. My heart throbbed painfully. Somehow, it felt as though I had truly put my foot in my mouth. I glanced to Arturo to gauge his expression, but as always, it remained a cool neutral.

"I'm sorry," I tried gently. Guilt twisted my insides as though they were being squeezed. I did love the tattoo and the sentiment behind it. I did. But it also struck an irrational fear into my heart; an irrational fear that ran so deep I couldn't ignore it.

"We should get to work," was all Arturo said.

Sometimes I thought things hurt him more than he'd like to admit.

As I finished typing up a case report later that day, my phone vibrated with a message. This was unusual on several accounts, particularly because nobody contacted me except for Arturo, and his preferred method of communication was a phone call, not a text. In fact, he took particular joy in calling while I was at work, giving me some wicked ideas about him, me, and my desk.

Averting my gaze momentarily from the computer, I picked up my phone. I didn't recognise the number, but that was no surprise considering my limited social life. I scanned the message:

Hi Flo, it's Amber. Arturo gave me your number - do you want to meet up for a drink tonight? It's been too long and I've got the night off! xx

Smiling, I added the number to my contacts and texted back to arrange a time and place. The last time Amber and I saw each other had been at Arturo's birthday celebration, when Salvadore had so rudely interrupted. It would be nice to have a catch up that didn't end up going awry.

By the time five o'clock finally did roll around, I couldn't leave the building quickly enough. I packed up my belongings and picked up some paperwork I needed to complete at home, saying goodbye to Mr Van Der Bilt on the way out, who proceeded to congratulate me on the excellent work I had been doing. I exited the building filled with happiness; finally things seemed to be working out.

It was a twenty minute walk from work to the bar that Amber and I had arranged to meet at. I could easily have hailed a taxi, but my good mood pushed me to travel on foot instead. It was early October and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn bright oranges and yellows. I scuffed them along with my feet as I walked, watching them twist through the air, taken by a sudden breeze. It seemed to take no time at all to arrive at my destination; I had been too absorbed with the beauty of Autumn.

Inside, the bar was brightly lit and cosy. Dark beams criss-crossed the ceiling and filament light bulbs hung like flowers growing upside down. I glanced around quickly, and, seeing no sign of Amber, I ordered us both a drink and took a seat. Glancing at my phone, I realised I was five minutes early, which probably explained Amber's absence. I sipped on my glass of mulled wine and watched out of the window as people bustled by on the street outside.

Fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of my friend. By this point I had finished my first drink and ordered a second. If Amber didn't arrive soon, I decided that I would leave.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice interrupted me from my thoughts.

I turned around to find a man gesturing towards the stool next to mine. He must have been in his late thirties, with a navy peacoat and leather gloves on his hands. Slowly, I began to shake my head.

"I don't think so," I said, taking another sip of my drink to hide my disappointment. I really would have loved to speak to Amber again.

"Someone let you down?" he wondered, sliding onto the stool.

I shrugged. "Sort of."

"Hmm. Mighty shame that is."

The first odd thing I noticed about this man was that he did not remove his gloves, nor his coat. He kept them on as he rested his hands on the table top. The second odd thing I noticed was that he didn't have a drink, and he didn't seem to be making any effort to acquire one.

I tried to ignore the irrational fear that had begun creeping its way into my mind. I sipped quickly on my drink and stared straight ahead out of the window. Every few seconds, my eyes would dart to the left and out of the corner of them I would see that the strange man was staring at me. He never turned away from me, even for a second.

Abandoning my half-finished drink, I quickly jolted up and slipped my coat on.

"Going so soon?" he asked.

"My boyfriend is here," I lied. "He's picking me up."

Either the man could tell I was lying or he didn't care; he rose from his seat and followed me.

"Let me walk you to the car."

"That's not necessary," I quickly shot him down, nervous now at his close proximity.

"Of course it is," he pressed.

With my hand on the door handle, the entire left side of my body prickled as I felt him standing right next to me. I drew in a deep breath and then threw open the door, stepping outside. For a moment or two I thought he had ceased to pursue me; silence followed my lonely steps. Then I heard him, and my heart sank.

"My boyfriend is just waiting the next street over," I continued my lie, glancing quickly around the street. It was almost empty.

The man said nothing.

I quickened my steps but, like a shadow, he still followed. Deep in my pocket, my hand found my phone. I could call Arturo: that was my first thought. But my fingers hesitated. If I called him, then that would only confirm his fears about me having my independence.

I picked up the phone and pretended to dial.

"Hello?" I said, less confidently than I'd have liked. "Yes, I'm coming."

Silence answered. The man behind followed.

"I won't be a moment," I promised hastily. "You can see me, oh -"

Suddenly words failed me as all of the wind was knocked out of my lungs. Two hands had forced me sideways, gripping my shoulders like talons. I wanted to cry out but a hand clamped over my mouth.

A leather-gloved hand.

Hard brickwork scraped into my back and in my panic I realised I had been shoved into an alleyway. The walls were close and smothered by moss. Against the soft leather my lungs struggled for air as the man pinned me in place.

A feeble sound creaked from my throat; the glove muffled it. The man grunted with effort, his beady eyes glinting as his hand over my face increased its pressure. Skull grinding into brickwork. His second hand released me and reached inside the navy folds of his peacoat.

I knew what came next.

Sheer panic and terror gave me strength - the strength to raise my knee and send it crashing into his stomach.

Then there were two sharp puffs of air, from him, as he seethed in pain, and from me, as I drew in a lung full of air. It was all I had time for before I ran.

"You fucking bitch!" he cursed behind me, but I was gone, down the alley, feet slapping through grimy puddles of god knows what.

It took less than a second for his foot falls to follow. Heavy, insistent, each of mine was met with two of his. And each two of his were met by six beats of my pounding heart.

The end of the alley was nearing, but so too was my pursuer.

He couldn't be outrun.

To my right an explosion of brick shattered down as a gunshot ricocheted around the alley. I felt the spray of grit between my teeth and in my eyes. I ducked as a second bullet flew overhead and stumbled at last onto the street. Then I ducked around the corner and stopped. Pulled off my heels and discarded one onto the ground.

I waited.

The man erupted from the alley like a hurtling cannon, and the second he was free so too was my shoe. I lobbed it in his direction, aiming for heel-to-eye. Instead I caught his nose and felt it crunch. He reeled and I turned, jolting forward into a run, but his hand caught mine and I cried out as I felt something in my shoulder give way with a snap.

One hard yank was all it took to relinquish his grip but the pain was blinding. I stumbled away, barefoot over concrete, pushing my muscles to work harder but grimacing with each laboured step. I knew it was hopeless. I couldn't run, couldn't get far even if my legs didn't give up on me.

I thought, for a moment, that I might make it. A small glimmer of hope swelled in my chest, and pushed my strides to elongate. If only the street wasn't empty, then I would have been safe. If only I wasn't alone. If only I hadn't been so foolish.

If only. Now it was too late.

A searing pain in my left foot made me stumble, and that's when he grabbed me. Arm around my neck, choking, he jerked me backwards and I felt my windpipe crush under pressure. I gasped, but a grainy squeak came out, muffled by the man's grunt as he dragged me into another alley. My hands tried desperately to pry his free but his grip was as firm as concrete. I kicked out as hard as I could, but my legs only became entangled with his. We stumbled backwards, his shoulder crashing into the wall.

"Fuck!" he grunted, his knee driving into the back of my thigh. "Stay still-"

I crumpled with pain and exhaustion. Startled by the sudden dead-weight, his grip on me relinquished and allowed me to sink to my knees. I felt no pain; adrenaline had flooded my system now, as I saw an opportunity. He bent down with one arm to hook it beneath me, trying to pull me up. In a flash I snatched the gun from his grip while he was too distracted to pry it back.

Memories of Arturo's hands on my waist as I aimed at a target flooded back. I pretended he was with me now, holding me, as I took aim.

I fired.

Then I ran.