The Betrayal
Rebecca Hamlin Green
The many dusty liquor bottles behind the bar blurred through the bottom of the glass as you drained your whiskey with a hesitant gulp. It slaked your thirst but did nothing to calm your nerves. You glanced uneasily across the street to the entrance of the seedy city hotel you holed up in. The cash in the mattress made for a poor night’s sleep, as did the gun beneath your paper-thin pillow. Your bloodshot eyes scanned the bar for the tenth time since arriving, aware of every other patron, every mirror, every shadow.
Lost in the search, you jumped when the bartender turned on the TV. Then your blood ran cold.
“…courthouse today, Juan Cortez, also known as El Cobrito, was released on bond, following his arrest on alleged armed robbery and attempted murder charges. Cortez was picked up during a botched bank robbery and held…”
Your mind racing and your breath shallow, you rubbed one cold, raspy palm against your now parched throat. Your stool teetered as you pushed yourself upright and stumbled toward the bathroom. Relieved to find it unoccupied, you hunched over the sink. It was only a matter of time. We had eyes everywhere, you knew. After a long, hitched sigh you stood, a looming figure blurring behind the jolt of the plastic bag now sinking relentlessly into your mouth and eyeballs, the dingy light flickering into darkness. No one in the bar heard us over the drone of the news broadcast.
Rebecca Hamlin Green
Rebecca Hamlin Green is a writer and artist living in Chicago, IL. Her drawings and prose reflect a near-obsession with the natural world and the potential for the mundane to indeed be spectacular.