Ring a Ring O' Roses

Scarlett looks at her phone as she sits down at the dinner table. She replies to Daniel’s text.
Thanks for leaving leftovers Love.  I miss you too. I don’t work late by choice. Its urgent. I’m sorry.
There is a clink on her plate when she rests her arms on the table reminding her of the wedding ring she forgot to take off. It sits there uncomfortable, making her finger sweat. She swipes it off and puts it in on the sideboard next to one of Jamie’s photo frames that lie face down.
There is no music; just the sound of youths chatting and smoking pot on the fire escape beneath them. The two of them eat and make small talk with lukewarm hearts.
“How many attempts is that now?”
“I’d say this was my third. I just can’t help it. Give me a park with a sign saying no deer hunting what else am I supposed to do?”
Mary exhales a chuckle. “Maybe you could try obeying it?”
“Because that just wouldn’t be exciting, now would it?”
“And if it’s not exciting it’s not worth it,” she winked. She could feel the adrenaline pumping in her gut. ‘Just don’t get caught again… You can’t possibly charm your way out of it every time.”
“Babe you underestimate me.”
Scarlett can feel herself melting beneath the rebellious light in his eyes.
After dessert, they fuck on the dining room table, and again on the kitchen floor. Jaimie goes down on her more than once, something Daniel refuses to do. They lay on the sofa in nothing but a blanket, watching Family Guy, staining their fingers, feeding each other strawberries. At 8:45 Mary leaves Jaimie at the door. They hug before she kisses him goodbye- his stubble gently scratching her lips. Walking back to the car she checks her phone again.
It’s always urgent.  
 

 
Tonight was the night. Everything had been planned meticulously.
Cole left the hostel; paying cash for his overnight stay and jogged towards his target’s apartment. For a week now his target hadn’t left his apartment: not for a job, his family or for exercise apart from the time he was caught trying to hunt dears in Richmond park. It wasn’t until this point that Cole was sure he had chosen the right person.
It was nearing 4.00 AM. He made sure, climbing the fire escape, that nobody was watching him. When he got to the window, he felt around the edge of the frame to find the thin piece of slate he’d placed there earlier, stopping the window from shutting completely. He raised it a little and pressed his ear against the gap, making sure the guy was asleep. Fortunately, he snored like a red stag during mating season, allowing him to hop inside, unheard. He moved towards the wardrobe, which he knew would be filled with the stack of cash he used to pay the delivery men. It would also hold his rifle, placed in a delicate case. He knew guns well and wasn’t sure if Jaimie had bought it as an antique or if it had been passed down through family but it was worth a hell of a lot. Although this rifle would not be sold- not yet at least.
Cole rummaged through his target’s draws searching for potential gold mines. Aware of his arrogance, he filled his rucksack with a delicate glass bong, an Armani watch and an apple mac while trying not to move any of the eerily faced down photo frames. The sound of constant snoring soothed Cole’s adrenaline and before opening the door, he noticed a ring laying on a side board. It glistened in the street light invading the living room and was too small to be Jaimie’s. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket. It wasn’t worth much but it could help him in more ways than one.
Cole left quietly, his smirk growing like a weed. By now his primary target was getting too comfortable and his family needed reminding who was in charge.
He walked the mile between his first victim and his primary target, Mr Douglas’, home in Barnes; consciously taking the back roads to avoid being seen. He found Mr Douglas snorting a line of coke down the alleyway he usually visited before work every morning.
He leaped over the fence and pounced on Mr Douglas’ quivering, middle aged body. He stood on his chest, retrieving the rifle that hung on his shoulder. He shot the man twice. First in the head so he couldn’t scream for help and then in his abdomen, although he was aiming for his heart.
 

 
Amy watched as the killer took a deep breath. A smile thread through his lips, and his eyes looked glassy in the breaking dawn. He hummed Mr Brightside as he freed something sparkly from his pocket and placed it on his victim’s hand. He threw the rifle over a fence that backed on to a stranger’s garden and fled towards the river. Amy hid behind the dustbin.
Living on the streets she had seen more than her fair share of violence- none of which seemed to affect her. Amy’s own knuckles were scuffed with scars from turf battles and horny beasts. She was showered daily with bruised faces, the cackle of prostitutes and drunk men shrieking expletives from the pit of their beer bellies, begging to be beaten. But with the bellow of this stranger’s gun, he stole the breath from her lungs along with the man who lay lifeless in front of her. She moved out from behind the bin, and stared into the eyes of the helpless corpse. His skin was white and his suit stained red. There was a ring sitting uncomfortably just below his fingernail. Amy assumed this was what the killer had weaved onto his victim. It was too small and elegant to be his own.
Amy got a plastic bag from the bin and used it as a glove. She removed the ring and searched for a wallet she could take advantage of. Amy wasn’t shocked to find five fifty pound notes in there; she knew the guy was a crack addict. She often watched him in the early hours of the morning shooting a line before getting paid to sit behind some boring desk in some boring office; drinking shitty coffee and apologising for not replying to emails sooner.
That morning Amy showed the ring to her friend Diesel, who owned the adult film store in the next town. She stopped taking stuff to the pawn brokers ever since the police visited her local one, searching for a necklace she’d cashed in not long ago. She’d found it while squatting in a flat.  Diesel told her the ring it was worth a few hundred pounds so Amy sold it and bought a few nights in a B&B where she met Brogan Summers, the owner. Brogan was a young with wild auburn hair and freckles that made her nose glitter. She was kind to Amy, and in the heat, they went exploring. The shared strawberries in amongst the trees. And when the sun went down they sat outside wrapped in blankets learning about the other.
For the few nights Amy could afford, she worked alongside Brogan, cooking and cleaning, in return for letting her stay. Amy confessed why her parents threw her out- how they’d walked in on her and her girlfriend. She re-enacted the argument that left her homeless and echoed the words her mother had screamed- the same words that haunted her dreams. “Come back when you’ve learnt to be normal.” 
Maybe then they would accept her. Although she knew she could change what they really wanted her too… she would always be gay.