Three Men and a Gun

Sweat coats her face and neck, gluing her bang to her forehead and her ponytails to the sides of her neck. One hand shields her eyes; the other holds her yellow and pink cartoon lunch box as she scans the street for a taxi.

He pulls up.

“Are you ready?” Head full of locks and a handsome smile. Rumor is: he likes them young, untouched. Surely, he wouldn't try anything with her. He knows her father.

She clambers into the back of his white Corolla, breaking a few of her rules:

1. Never enter a taxi with only a driver.

2. Ensure there is at least one female passenger present.

Behind tinted windows that impede the determined sun, she weighs the risk she's taken.

Home is ten minutes away.

Cool air dries her sweat, settles her into relief before two men enter the taxi and shatter her calm - breaking her most important rule.

3. If there are more than two men present, LEAVE!

Doors lock.

She peers through windows, praying for a woman to fill the remaining seat. If a woman sees her eyes, that woman will know the taxi requires balance. She reaches for the window just as blood catches her eye.

Freeze. Sweat returns with this new fear.

The man to her right hands black metal to the driver then tends to his bloody arm. He traps the injured limb against his torso, dabs crimson streaks - taking care not to stain her white dress. But he's exposed her to more than blood. He's given her knowledge she can never use.

See and blind. Hear and deaf.

The taxi leaves. She can't exit and no one else has entered.

Ten minutes to home.

Her mind is full with the hollow sound of distant bullets and the emptiness they leave behind. She wants to be somewhere…anywhere else. To the men, her seat is empty. They offer no apologies or explanations. Do they care that it’s her first time being this close to a gun? Do they care that, before today, the guns she's seen have all been secured to the hips or in the hands of cops?

Maybe they're not ignoring her. Perhaps she's the one who's zoned them out. She's trying to forget faces and the gun stowed in the glove compartment. They've entrusted her with a secret - knowledge they know she can never use.

See and blind. Hear and deaf. For her safety. See and blind. Hear and deaf. For her family's security.

Five minutes till home.

She's forgotten their faces. She’ll never bear witness.

Two minutes till home.

They exit.

Her shoulders relax. Her chest loosens…slightly. They reclaim their gun but leave her fear. For her safety, she's forgotten their faces. For her protection, she should remember.

Home.

She springs from the taxi while the engine runs. Now she doesn't need an apology or explanation. She can't prove those other rumours, but this driver is certainly a thief of innocence.