720 words (2 minute read)

Lie Still

“Shhh…you’ll wake him up.”

“Nah, ‘e’s sound asleep. Nothin’ could wake ‘im up now. I made sure a that in ‘is evenin’ tea.”

Jeremy laid in his bed, absolutely still, eyes closed. He did not attempt to move even a muscle, but found that he was unable to after a bit of prodding to his big toe.

Who are these men? How did they get in my house? Why can’t I move?

The deep breaths he took to mimic a sleeping state helped keep his nerves in check, yet he could feel a growing sense of anxiety deep in his chest.

“Anyway,” the first voice said at a more subdued volume, “what should we do with him?”

“I say we slit ‘is throat an’ be done wit it.” The second man excitedly replied, the sound of his voice getting louder as the sentence went on, betraying the joy he found in the thought of the action.

“No way, too much evidence to be left behind. We need to be in and out of here without touching anything, or we won’t be getting paid. Or worse.”

Jeremy could just imagine the first man miming a noose around his own neck, though there was no reason to think he did so.

A rattling sound, like loosely fitting metal.

“How ‘bout we shoot ‘im in the ‘ead from the door, an’ make it look like a robbery?” The second man really was looking to commit an impressive act of violence, it seems.

They were standing just to the side of the bed, in the direction Jeremy was facing.

Maybe I should take a chance and see if I can get a glimpse of them, in case I get out of this alive.

He attempted to open his eyes, found the lids to be heavier than he can remember. They wouldn’t budge even a millimeter.

The panic was growing to the point where Jeremy was no longer sure he was being convincing in his breathing patterns.

Settle down.

“No, no, too much drama. Put that thing away. Besides, the gun is registered in your name, we can’t very well dump it.”

“Yea, ‘suppose you’re right.”

That same sound of rattling metal, shuffling of feet.

“So, what d’ you think?” The second man seemed to grow agitated by the minute.

“I think...” the rest of the sentence was lost to Jeremy, the man’s voice becoming muffled as their footsteps retreat into the hallway.

What do I do? Jeremy tried hard to move, his legs and arms like lead. Nothing. He didn’t pretend to sleep anymore, and let the panic fully take over. Maybe the adrenaline rush would help me break free of this?

He struggled with all his strength, but to no avail.

Who are these men? What…what…what is happen...ing?

His thoughts began to slow, like wading through a hip-deep pool of molasses.

Then…darkness.

-----

Jeremy awoke to find himself upright, an uncomfortable tightness in his neck, his hands dangling limply to his sides. Still unable to open his eyes, he searched the room for the sound of anything, anyone.

“He secure?” It was the first man again.

“Yea. Ready?” The second man replied.

“Alright, kick him off.”

A loud bang, followed by a sudden drop in height and a tightening around his neck.

They’re hanging me! The briefest of thoughts flashed through Jeremy’s mind as the rope around his neck went taught, his airway sealed.

The drop had opened his eyes forcefully, the kick to the now-overturned stool that must have been supporting him uneven, causing him to spin around uncertainly on his tether.

“Perfect!” The first voice exclaimed.

“Yea,” the second man said dejected, “still wish we couldda cut ‘is throat.”

As Jeremy turned, eyelids forced open, unable to move a muscle, he found solace in the last fleeting thought that he would get to lay eyes on his assassins in his last moments.

Laughter filled the room. A deep, haunting laughter.

And he slowly spun all the way around on his rope, laughter filling his ears, to find that he was alone.