The Parking Lot

Rick could already smell the fresh air as he rose slowly up the elevator, level 4. He ignored the smell of piss and old vomit, his mood was too good right now to be bothered by anything, all he could think about was that the cold beer and beautiful wife that waited for him at home.
Level 5, almost there. He was excited to see his wife, to kiss her, to make her laugh again; it had been a while since he had done either. Things had been rough at home lately, the stress and long hours at the office had taken a toll on him the last few months and he was sorry to say that he had had took it all out on his wife. Now finally after months of hard work, helping ensure the take-over went smoothly, it was all over, it felt like a huge weight was off his shoulder and a pretty nice bonus in his pocket.

Level 6, this was him. He stepped out on to hard concrete roof of the parking lot and felt the cool afternoon air wash over him, it had been a while since he had been out of work early enough to do this. As he started towards the car he thought about what to with his bonus, perhaps he could buy a new car, and new suit, a necklace for his wife, he should definitely buy some flowers on the way home ...
He stopped and suddenly felt fear grip his entire body, his heart stopped for a second before suddenly beating twice as fast as it normally would, he could feeling it pulse around his entire body, from his fingers to his eyes. His heart was threatening to burst from his chest now, and he felt flushed and light headed while his body felt heavy and out of place. He forgot what he was thinking, and what he was doing, forgetting that he was happy just a few seconds ago, every part of him came to a grinding halt and all he could he feel was fear.

Taking the next step was difficult, the next one was just as hard, every footstep was a painfully nerve racking experience. As he walked he stared at the large hooded figure that was standing in between his car and another. His footsteps echoes in the empty car park and the hooded figure had already taken notice, moving away from the cars and heading towards Rick himself.

Rick took a good look at the hooded figure. He assumed it was a man or a large teenager, at least six feet and pretty muscular. His facial features were still obscured from the black hoodie pulled down over his head, and the fading afternoon sun made it impossible to see any of the figures face. Were they young or old, what their eyes were like, were they staring at him. He would give anything to see a glimpse of what's under that hood, to see a reassuring smile or some friendly eyes, something to put his mind at ease.
As the two walked towards each other Rick looked over the rest of the outfit, along with the black hoody he wore blue jeans and black trainers, nothing screamed criminal but nothing said public servant to him either. He felt his hand clench tightly to his briefcase, the handle digging into his now sweaty trembling hands. What could this hooded man possibly be doing up here, on the 6th level of a parking garage, why had been standing next to his car, was he a thief. Rick only owned a shitty old Polo, there was rust spreading all along the driver's door, that alone had always been enough to put of potentially thieves in the past.

The hooded man put both hands into the pockets of his hoody! What was he reaching for? A weapon! He couldn't be more than a dozen steps away now; Rick needed something to defend himself with. The mace! But he had given that to his wife, he always felt it was for women, he felt a bit foolish now. His briefcase! But it was empty and light; if it came to it his fists would do more damage.
He put his free hand into his overcoat, grasping for anything to use to defend himself. His phone, his wallet, his keys, yes! He could use the sharp end like a knife. He grabbed them tightly, feeling the sweat as he pulled them into his fist. The man was only metres away now and he could feel his body shaking, while his chest felt tight making it difficult to breathe, he wouldn't be able to shout for help, his voice would be nothing more than a squeak.

The hooded man's body shifted slightly as he continued to walk with his hands in his pockets. Rick struggled to breathe now and he could feel the heat practically rising from his body. His hand was shaking in his own pockets as it gripped the keys; the other held the briefcase so tightly he felt like he would crush the handle.

The hooded man was only a step away, close enough to feel his beating heart and see the absolute fear on his face.
And then it happened. The hooded man made a noise like he was clearing his throat and he pulled something from his pocket. It was small and shiny, fitting snugly into the palm of his hand. Rick panicked and pulled his own keys from his pocket, not wanting to let the other man use his weapon first; he lunged, putting his whole force behind the back door key. And the key went straight into the hood and went into what felt like flesh. He could feel the key go through the skin and stop as it made contact with the bone. The hooded man let out a high pitched scream, high pitched and full of pain. Rick snapped back to his senses and let shakily let go of the keys, what had he done!

The hooded man fell backwards to the ground, almost sliding down to sit on the floor but no sooner had his bum head the tarmac that his back and head began to fall as well, hitting the ground hard with a sickening crunch causing his hood to slip off, and his inhaler to slip from his hand.
It was just a boy, maybe 17; he was large but young looking with not a hair on his face. But there was blood, splattered across his face and neck where Rick would have expected a beard to be.

Now a different fear gripped Rick, he had been so afraid, scared for his own safety that he had attacked an innocent boy. They stared at each other for a long time and Rick could recognise the same fear in the boy's eyes that he himself had experienced just seconds ago, this poor boy hadn't been a criminal or a threat, and it was Rick who was the dangerous one.