by Bella King
I could barely breathe anymore. My lungs were drawing in as much oxygen as they could, but they couldn’t process it. My hands and feet tingled, and I felt myself slowing down. It was like one of those dreams where you’re running, but you barely move.
“Fuck,” I panted as I gripped the corner of a building and flew around it. At this point, I had to confuse them and catch my breath, or I’d be done for.
A green dumpster sat against the back of a building. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of even touching something so filthy, but this wasn’t a normal situation. After a split second of hesitation, I dived into it like a competitive swimmer. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so disgusting.
My shoulder met with a black plastic bag full of soft trash. I assumed that it was leftover restaurant food from its pungent aroma, which was a relief. It could have been impaled by a broken shower rod or a board full of nails instead.
I lay still in the trash as the sound of deep voices and footsteps approached. They echoed down the street and around the corner, slowing down as they tried to figure out which way I had gone.
My heart was beating so fast that I feared they would hear it. I was trying not to breathe heavily, but I felt like I was starving for air after having run so fast, especially when the air I was breathing was mixed with the rancid fumes of rotting waste.
I took in a deep gulp of air and held my breath as the men approached the dumpster that I lay inside. If they looked over the edge, they would spot me easily. What happened next would be up to fate to decide. It was out of my hands.
Only two seconds into holding my breath, my lungs were already screaming for more air. I was having trouble staying still as my body urged me to rise from the awful trash and gasp for breath.
“Don’t hide, bitch,” I heard a man growl, quickly coming toward my dumpster.
My hand closed around a bag of trash beside me, preparing to fling it at the man if he leaned over the dumpster and spotted me. I had never seen this coming, but then again, I was far too headstrong to ever pay attention to the dangers that lay ahead of me. If I wanted it, I would get it, no matter what I had to do. Finally, it seemed like the dangers had caught up to me, and I was about to pay the ultimate price for my overconfidence.
A gunshot rang out so close that I went partially deaf as the sound split through my eardrums. I anticipated the impact of the bullet, the pain, and the blood, but none of that came. I hadn’t been the one to be shot.
How could I be when I was tucked into a dumpster, hallway buried under black bags of garbage? It was someone else who had been shot, but that wasn’t the final round. Another shot split the air, and then another as the scene outside of my hiding spot turned into chaos.
I heard shouting, and then a loud bang of someone falling against the metal side of the dumpster. There was the sound of people running, and then everything fell silent. It all happened within a few seconds, but it felt like hours. I didn’t dare move from my hiding spot.
Who had been shooting at who, and why? I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I was thankful, nonetheless. Whatever happened outside of the dumpster, it had prevented me from falling into the hands of the six men who had been pursuing me.
“Get out slowly, and with your hands up,” a gruff voice shouted, clearly directed toward me. Was that a cop? I had never felt so relieved.
I took a deep breath, finally able to get air, and reached to the sides of the dumpster, the slippery residue of a thousand bags of trash rubbing off onto the palms of my hands as I hoisted myself into a sitting position. I thought that I would see a man in a blue uniform when I came up, but the man I saw didn’t look anything like a cop.
This wasn’t a rescue, and I wasn’t safe.
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