Indebted

He had never had pain like this, but then again, he had never really been hurt before.

The gorilla was out of sight now, and the lynch mob were stopped at the end of the street, shouting threatening abuse, questioning his parentage and religion, and promising various torturous forms of death should he ever return.

Paul realised that they would be coming back here soon. Wiping more blood from his face, he looked around for an escape route. It was a street! There are only two ways out, and the riot was at one end. How difficult could it be to work out?

‘How much blood can one person lose before they die?’ thought Paul. ‘Why am I thinking this, I need to run. My shirt has blood on it. That will never come out. Stop thinking rubbish and run. RUN.’

Paul staggered to the edge of the garden. There appears to be street party going on, as there are people all over, running and shouting, throwing things at houses. The Fiat down the road has been turned on its side, and there is a strong smell of burning.

From under the front of the Transit, there are several fingers of smoke rising and the windscreen has a large concrete bollard smashed though it.

‘Saved money on the wipers after all’ he thought. In all of the commotion, no one seemed to notice Paul drop behind the small bush at the front of Mrs. Barras’ house.

Fumbling, Paul searched for his mobile phone. ‘At last, now I can get help’. As he dialled, he left blood marks all over the phone.

‘Hello? Police??’

Paul was greeted by an automated voice. ‘Sorry this number is no longer valid.’

‘The phone bill, it was only 4 weeks old. Only 4 weeks. This job would have covered it, and the wipers on the van.’

‘Please, help me…you don’t have to do this…you can help me’. Paul cried.