Jonah

Jonah lay on the ground, hidden in the grass, fearing the worst; he lay as still as he could, barely breathing. The deafening roar of a police helicopter filled the air, Jonah pressed harder against the ground, holding his breath as he saw the spotlight skim across the grass. Yes, they knew he was in the vicinity, and they knew that he had escaped from police hands, his right wrist still handcuffed, his left was bare. Jonah thought to himself "it is only a matter of time, not too long before they find you here, you're not going to escape them, and you have to think realistically, the grass is thick, but not thick enough to engulf you". The police helicopter returned, this time, it sounded as though it was racing across the air, piercing the wind as it flew right overhead, the spotlight was off, hopefully they had given up. Jonah lay still for another minute; there was a blissful silence in the air, with the wind racing lightly across the grassy plain.



Jonah slowly rose to a crouch and peered over the top of the grass in all directions, but there was nothing. The moon was directly overhead now, so there was no telling which way he was going before he dove into the grass. He was in the middle of a large field, to his left was a small lighted area, to his right was a larger glow of light, which he thought was most definitely the city, he headed toward the large glow. Slowly the light grew larger and larger as he jumped the fence out of the field and he came to a stretch of road. Headlights erupted in the distance, and Jonah ran for the cover of the field again, but the lights did not come, they had turned around and gone the other way, Jonah continued to walk along the road, which he presumed would take him to the city.



After twenty or so minutes, Jonah came across a fuel station, he scurried into the toilet at the back of the store, a pungent smell of urine and mould came across his nostrils as he entered, and turned on the light. His reflection shone against the dank and dirty mirror, a young man of about twenty, with a handsome face, a cut along his forehead, his body was well built and lightly tanned, his clothes ripped and torn, with dust all over them, his hair, long but tamed.



Jonah reached down to his left ankle, and pulled out the gun he had earlier held at another mans head, but didn't fire, he needed money, and that was the only solution, to rob a convenience store, now what could he do, he would go to prison, would he dare steal a car, take another mans life to try and save his own? No, no he couldn't do that, he isn't that sort of person.



There was only one solution.



His arm started shaking, a tear shone brightly in his eye before slithering down his face, he closed his eyes, as he slowly rose the gun upwards to the bottom of his jaw. The top of his brow began to break into a cold sweat, as his finger slowly worked its way to the trigger, his whole body suddenly felt cold, as another tear worked its way down his face.



The gun seemed so cold against his jaw, so cold that it seemed to burn into him, it was a sensation that only this situation could bring. He felt drenched in sweat as he looked into the reflection one last time, there stood a man, broken, shattered, brought down to nothing. This man, which society stepped on, and ground into the dirt, which was not fit for this place, his final moments in scenery to him, thought reflected his life.



His hand grew tighter around the pistol, as he clenched his eyes shut, keeping firm the pressure against his jaw.



The gun fired, Jonah hit the ground in a slump, the gun slid easily from his limp hand, as a pool of blood started to form around his head. His eyes, stayed fixed in one place, with certain coldness about them, blood started to leak from his mouth, as he lay motionless, his body mind and spirit, torn apart.