S1, E8 | A One Way Ticket Out West

\ New Hampshire - March 1923 /

Shielding his head as he collides with the ground, a clean-shaven Jimmy grimaces in pain as a boot swings into his sternum, a literal kick to the man whilst down amidst a barrage of insults. “You’re a pathetic waste of life!” an enraged, guttural shout extends from the much older man standing over the fallen young man, each word paused briefly for another kick to be interjected within his words.

“James, please! Stop!” a woman wails from the corner of the room, cowering in fear at the man’s outburst, shielding herself in the event his vigour is redirected toward her. “Shut your mouth!” the irate figure violently spats back, swinging his hand through the air to smack the fear-gripped woman on the side of the head. Pressing his teeth together, Jimmy rolls onto his front and tries to push himself off the ground, attempting to lift himself back upon two feet before his efforts prove futile.

Struck with yet another kick to his abdomen, Jimmy pants for air as he falls to the ground once more, hands grasping at his ribs as if he were trying to keep them contained within his skin. “You sicken me!” the older man grunts, spit flying from his lip as his face takes closer toward the young man laid out before him, foot flying into his side yet again. “James, please!” the distressed woman pleads yet again, still cowering in the corner out of sheer terror, “he’s your son!”

With a twitch in his left eye, the slightly off-balanced father turns toward his wife whilst ripping his belt free from the loops in his pants, swiping the leather bind through the air and toward his wife. Hearing his mothers’ screams, Jimmy tries once more to push himself off the ground, unable to keep his lips from blowing outward with each gasp for air.

Crawling along the floor, Jimmy presses his body against the nearest wall, his hip resting into the floor whilst his shoulder presses against the plaster barrier between himself and the crisp chill of the New England winter. With his mouth agape, the wounded young man tries desperately to guide himself to a stand, though his efforts yet again find themselves cut short beneath the weight of his fathers’ boot.

“Stay down you wretched bastard!” James belts out, lashing his son over the side of the face with the leather belt, forcing the young man back to the ground with a guttural howl. Having forced both sides of his family into different sides of horror, the father stands at the room’s centre with a mean mug, not necessarily revelling in his work as much as he is surveying the scene he’d caused.

“The two of you are-” the violent father grunts, pausing for a moment to shake the cobwebs that come over his head, his proper balance evading him in the wake of the assortment of drinks he’d piled into his system. “-ungrateful little shits” James concludes, finishing his thought before a smirk forms in the corner of his mouth, reacting to the scene his eyes fall upon- his beaten son yet again trying to stammer his way to both feet.

Licking the insides of his cotton mouth before spitting whatever saliva he could muster into some corner of the room, James marches toward the young man continuing to disobey him- refusing to remain a carcass of a man rendered useless beneath his fathers’ hand. “What did I tell you to do!?” the man exclaims, wrapping his hands around Jimmy’s chin and neck and forcing the young man to look him in the eyes.

With blood running down the side of his face, deep red marks dotting his face like accessories, and hiss-like breaths carried through every moment his lips remain parted, Jimmy stares his father in the eyes whilst his tormentor does much the same. Looking on in silence for a moment, James’ smirk soon vanishes, replaced with the sombre shake of his head.

“Look at you-” James murmurs loud enough for his son to hear, continuing to hold the same callus stare he’d first met him with, only for a resigned defeat to hide within disheartened eyes, “-still just the bastard.” Without another word to offer his battered offspring, the dejected father wraps his hand around Jimmy’s face and shoves his head back into the wall, allowing the young man to sink to the floor without so much as an ounce of remorse.

Stepping over broken glass as he leaves the room, James leaves a wake of devastation in his path that is only filled with panting and lamentful tears. His back pressing into the wall as he sits on the hardwood floor, Jimmy hangs his head toward the ground and allows the ache of his beating to overcome him, each sore and sharp pain that riddles his body taking its course whilst his mother tries to conceal her open weeps on the other side of the warzone.

= Seattle Noir is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onward =

\ One hour later /

Stepping through the archway that separates the living room from the kitchen, Cathy falls upon the sight of her mother hard at work, apron adorned and stained with various splatters of flour. “Would you like any help, mother?” the younger woman wonders aloud, watching her mother’s surprised reaction meet her, a dismissive smile paid to her offspring.

“As much as I appreciate the kind gesture, I’m not going to be the mother that has her daughter prepare her own birthday dinner” the woman replies, watching her husband step into the kitchen the moment she finishes her reply. “Father. You’re home!” Cathy says with surprise, watching the man lift his leather briefcase onto the kitchen table with a sigh, presenting himself as if the bag weighed in excess of twenty pounds. 

“Yes, of course I am” the man responds with a half-smile, his hand gently resting upon his daughter’s shoulder, “what father misses his little girl’s eighteenth birthday dinner?” With an appreciative smile, Cathy looks up at her father as his eyes wander toward the woman behind the food amidst its preparation, “we do have everything we need for tonight, right Anne?” 

“Yes, Walter. We have everything we need” Anne replies, putting her strength into the metal spinner she uses to mix the various ingredients within her metal bowl together. “I just wanted to be sure everything was in order for tonight” Walter retorts, both hands lifting into the air briefly as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a cardboard box of snipes and a matchbox at once, “I want to make sure our little girl spends her eighteenth with those that love her most.”

Already doubtful she’ll receive an answer that pleases her, Cathy’s youthful eyes take upward toward her father, watching the smoke lift from the stricken match just as it moves toward the unfiltered end of his cigarette. “Does that mean it would be alright if we invited Jimmy?” the young woman asks, unable to see her mother’s displeased expression lift from the contents of the bowl and fall upon the back of her daughter’s head.

Pulling from the dart as he swipes the match through the air to put it out, Walter answers amidst a deep exhale, his hefty frame sinking inward as his lungs expend the smoke that fill them. “Absolutely not” the man replies, offering the answer the other two inhabitants of the room had already quietly anticipated, “I acknowledge that you’ll find ways to sneak around my commands to see that thug, but he will enter this home as an equal over my dead body.”

Disheartened, Cathy’s eyes trail off toward the ground as she prepares to let the conversation die there, having received the answer she’d anticipated and satisfied enough to let the discourse end with her boyfriend’s refusal. “That boy is nothing but bad news, dear. I don’t know how many times your father and I need to tell you that before you see it for yourself” Anne remarks, speaking through the grunts that are provoked through her churning of the cake mix.

“Why is he bad news exactly?” Cathy wonders aloud, watching the cold eyes of her mother’s stare take toward her, ensuring she stays within the boundary lines of respect already long-since established. “I don’t ask this out of defiance, but I do wish to know just what metric the two of you are going about making this judgement” the girl clarifies, “I spend more time with him than you do. If anything, why shouldn’t it be that I’d know more about him than the two of you?”

“Because you’re still too young to see what we can. You’ve got blinders on out of the feeling that you think is love” Anne responds, keeping the opposition side of the conversation rolling as her husband takes a seat at the kitchen table. “That boy comes around here speaking like he hasn’t been to school in years wearing bruises of so many colours you’d think segregation laws didn’t apply around here” the woman proceeds, “he’s a textbook rascal. A no-good heathen that you’re better than.”

“I’m not saying he’s a perfect man, but I’ll certainly vouch that he’s a better man than you credit him as being” Cathy retorts, more than willing to compromise her position in order to reflect her lover in a better light, “can’t you two be willing to concede that he might be even a tad-bit better than what look at him as?”

“Was he not booked a few months ago for selling counterfeit cigarettes?” Walter inquires, an eyebrow raised as his own dart sits between the two fingers he suspends within midair. “And as I told you before, he was selling them to make enough to help his family pay rent” Cathy explains, the eyeroll she receives from her mother making it clear that the motivation doesn’t justify the action within her eyes.

“If his parents are in the position where they need their son running up charges to make ends meet, what does that say about him?” Walter inquires, his wife’s attention returning to the cake mix she’d finally settled into a respectable texture. “You’ve seen the broken homes so many of these criminals come from. I don’t see these hooligans being secret stand-up citizens” the man proceeds, watching his wife slip on mittens and set foot for the oven, “why is Jimmy supposed to be any different?”

“He’s not- that’s the answer” Anne remarks from the opposite side of the room, taking the tray of cake mix and slipping it into the heated chamber, “and no matter how much you may protest, we’re never going to look at him any other way, honey.” Glueing her eyes to the woman that raised her, Cathy stares in silence for a few seconds with little more than a disappointed look on her face, the words she wants to respond with being shelved by her father’s interjection.

“Honey, you’ll feel stronger ways about much better men than this kid. When that day comes, you’ll be able to see what we mean” Walter remarks, pausing to take another drag off his cigarette, “until then, we’ll be here as these feelings pass. We’re just trying to keep you grounded in reality.”

“What did grandpa think of you then, father?” Cathy inquires, turning her face toward the man in full, not an ounce of hesitation to be offered behind any of her words, “did he think of you as an upstanding citizen? Did he think you were worthy of mother’s love?” Letting his hand fall just a few inches from his face to speak, Walter finds his retort carried within the words of his wife, who takes over on his behalf.

“Your father was a respectable man who didn’t approach my father wearing bruises and cuts. Your father was never arrested or presented him with improprieties” Anne argues, a stern tone carried within her voice in the wake of her husband’s questioning. “Your grandfather met me on the front porch, told me that it was my responsibility to provide for your mother, and had me live up to that expectation” Walter doubles down, taking over to speak upon his own behalf, “I showed I was capable of it.”

“So, in other words- grandpa gave you the chance and you didn’t let him regret it” Cathy replies, looking her father in the eyes before redirecting her attention to the woman behind the counter, “how is Jimmy supposed to do that if you won’t even provide him with the chance.”

“He won’t because he’s not getting it” Anne quickly rebukes, undoing the strings on her apron to shed it from her body, “that is the end of this conversation. If you speak another word of it, you will be ordered to your room. Do you understand?” With a frown spread across her visage, Cathy stares at her mother with a partially open mouth, the visible disappointment unnecessary to speak of, instead made obvious through the birthday girl’s silent departure.

|

\ Fifteen minutes later /

Groggily leant against the paint-chipped drywall, Jimmy hangs his head to the side as the air grows quiet, not a whimper to be heard and not a grunt to leave his body. The blood on the side of his face having dried, the battered young man sits with his hands on his lap and chin pressed against his chest, dry sweat covering his forehead and eyes barely able to keep themselves parted.

“This is all your fault” the beaten woman whimpers from the opposite side of the room, her scathing words doing little to phase the man that gingerly looks up toward her direction. “You ruined our lives” the scared and fragile woman moans, a remark that provokes a smile to come across the face of the battered young man.

“All these years have gone by, and I still can’t understand why I’m to blame” Jimmy murmurs aloud, immediately earning the scorn of his mother-figure. “You’re the bastard!” the woman hisses back, still cowering in the corner out of fear that her lover will return for a second round of lashings. In spite of his wounds and the soreness that riddles his body, the trounced young man looks back at the ground and smiles, holding back brief chuckles as his blood-stained teeth present themselves.

“You find this amusing? You ruined our lives!” the woman hisses even louder, trying to keep her enraged tone as quiet as she can so as not to draw the abusive father’s attention back upon them. “Haven’t you ever asked yourself why all of your other kids cut off contact with you?” Jimmy inquires, picking his head up to lean it against the drywall, eyes staring at the heavens whilst the bitter conversation persists, “haven’t you ever asked yourself why only the bastard stayed?”

“Because you’re useless!” the mother hisses back, refusing to acknowledge her husband’s behaviour as the reason behind her strife, but instead taking the easy route of buying into her associated-son’s fault. “Or maybe they just see you for the filthy bitch that you are” Jimmy rebukes, his words immediately prompting the woman across the room from him to fall silent, almost incapable of wrapping her mind around the insult that’d been levied at her.

“Wh- what did you just-?” the woman whispers, her voice barely loud enough to catch the ears of the young man one room’s length away. “Blame me for your problems all that you’d please, but I’m here because dad stuck his penis in some deadbeat broad a little over eighteen years ago” Jimmy continues, speaking with the nonchalant cadence of a man who couldn’t care less how his proclamations are perceived, “I’m the bastard because dad wanted a new doll to toy around with.”

“Get out of this house” the woman across the room quickly whispers back, watching the young man’s frown meet her as he remains seated, her anger spiking the moment she realises he has no intention of moving. “Get out of this house!” the mother exclaims once more, too enraged to concern herself with her husband’s rage in that one moment, completely forgetting the wrath of his fury in a second of outright hostility.

Rolling his eyes, Jimmy shakes his head and begins to push himself off the ground, hearing the distant footsteps that make their way from the living room just a corridor’s length-away. Paying no mind to the impending attack that he knows will soon be launched, the young man continues to guide himself upward with the help of the chipped drywall as the door to the room swings open once more, granting James an undisturbed path to the son he’d never desired having.

Feeling the weight of his father’s hand press against his shoulder, Jimmy scowls at the spin his body takes before bracing himself, ready for the punch that soon sends him back into the floor. “Shut your goddamn mouths!” James exclaims, turning his focus back toward the cowering woman in the corner as his son lays upon the ground, staring at the sky as his adoptive mother’s shrieks fill the air, provoking not a single ounce of change in his expression.

With his fingers slightly curled and both elbows pressing against the ground, Jimmy drowns out the sounds of the woman’s beating as he gives into the ache of his pains once more, feeling them throughout his body as if they were a disease ravaging him from within. Each ache dulling the last one out, the young man feels the weight behind every strike he’d eaten that night overcome itself, rendering him into one desensitised husk of a man.

“You ungrateful piece of shit!” James shouts aloud, taking his son by the collar of his partially-torn shirt and forcing him upward, thrusting him against the drywall and holding his face exactly as he had before. “You’re the biggest mistake of my life!” the man’s father shouts, his fingers squeezing down on his son’s face with force, the man’s lips, cheeks, and chin all shifting with the weight of his grasp like dough.

“I wish you were never born! You ruined everything!” James exclaims once more, pulling his son forward before slamming him against the drywall again, the impact of the collision falling upon deaf senses. Already rendered one numb carcass contained within the living confines of a body, Jimmy stares at his father and listens to every last word, hanging onto every syllable uttered and taking the abuse for every last ounce.

“You should have never been born!” James exclaims, yet again pulling his son away from the wall before thrusting him back into it, holding Jimmy’s face in such a way that prevents him from seeing the amused smile hidden behind his shifted skin. “I should’ve killed you the second you were brought into this putrid world!” the father shouts once more, following suit by shoving his son into the wall once more, his voice lowering to a more personal tone after a brief pause.

“Look at me, look at me-” James whispers, watching his son’s eyes dart toward his pupils, looking him square in the face just as desired before once more doubling down on his vitriol, “-you’ll always just be the bastard!”

Kept against the wall for a further few seconds, Jimmy lets his father’s declaration sink in amidst the pause in his father’s attack, feeling a sense of rage he’d never carried within his veins before this moment. Allowing the claim to resonate within his offspring, James pulls his son back just one more time before thrusting him back into the drywall, fingers still pressing into the young man’s flesh with an insatiable might.

Feeling his head bounce against the wall, Jimmy’s eyes shoot open as he feels his father’s grasp tighten, the six words he’d been forced to simmer down with proving too much for him to overcome. In a moment of pure adrenaline, the son pushes past the aches of his wounds and swipes his arms through the air, tearing his parent’s snake-like grasp on his face away before shoving him back, creating separation that brings an audible silence over the room.

Regaining his balance, James stares with eyes as wide as they can part at the young man across from him, letting the disrespect sink in for a moment before screaming in anger. “You little bastard!” the father exclaims, sprinting forward with his hand cocked back and ready to swing, only for the grasp of his son’s hand around the collar of his shirt to precede any attack.

With his free hand balled into a fist, Jimmy throws a strike at the centre of his father’s face, immediately rocking the man that had brought him into the world as his mother watches on, astonished at the sight and incapable of speech. With James dazed in his grasp, the battered son stares at his father with an impassioned vigour that had yet been satisfied, the gall to lay a hand on the man that had raised him- all be it in hellacious conditions- only carrying him further.

With a newfound fury, Jimmy rains shots down on his father’s face and follows the man to the ground, each strike only furthering the assault that bloodies the man’s face beyond anything he’d ever suffered. As if on a mission, the offspring continues to deal blow after blow upon James, watching his face swell beneath every strike before deciding he hadn’t yet made his bones with the man.

“Am I the bastard, dad!? Which one of us is the bastard, you obnoxious piece of shit!?” Jimmy exclaims, wrapping his hands around the man’s shirt collar and pulling his face close, wanting to make sure every word was uttered as personally as his father’s had been delivered. With a strength neither parent knew their child to be capable of, the young man lifts James to his feet and throws him against the wall, both hands wrapping around his face just as had been done to him.

“You made this bed to lie in you ungrateful little shit!” Jimmy shouts, pulling his father’s bloated skull away from the wall before slamming it back once more, hearing a sickening crack that he brushes off without a second thought. “You dug this fucking grave, you goddamn monster!” the young man doubles down, pulling his father’s head forward and slamming it back once more, listening to the muffled groans of his drunken parent as consciousness becomes evasive.

“Look at me! Look at me!” Jimmy soon whispers, pulling his father’s head forward and holding him in the air, the tight grasp he wraps around the man’s skull being the only thing keeping him from toppling to the ground. Making sure to see James’ pupils looking into his own before continuing, the wounded son keeps his voice low and personable, not wanting to let a second of his assault pass by without being revelled in.

“You’re the bastard” the young man whispers, nodding to his father with a look of satisfaction on his face before thrusting the man’s head back once more, a second crack filling the air before the hands relinquish his elder’s skull. Left unsupported, James bounces off the drywall and collapses to his son’s feet, the room left eerily silent as his adoptive mother looks at the same sight that her adopted son takes toward.

Directly where his father’s head had been thrusted against, a blood splatter sits on the wall that the man now lays at the base of, slumped over and unresponsive. Huffing for air as he regains his composure, Jimmy takes a few steps back and looks at his father’s body laying on the ground, not holding enough remorse to feel sorry for his actions, not enough care to check for a pulse.

Showing his bloody teeth toward the sky, Jimmy’s eyes soon wander to the deathly-silent woman just a few feet away, her eyes staring in shock at her husband’s body before soon sharing the sight with that of her adopted offspring. “You’re both bastards” the young man mutters aloud, staring his mother-figure in the eyes for another few seconds before turning away, eyes locking upon the corridor his father had traversed to spark the altercation that he’d now finished.

In the distance of the home, the woman begins to return to her wailing as she crawls to the battered man she’d married many years ago, refusing to break her faithfulness to him in spite of his transgressions. Not bothering himself with his mother’s lamenting, Jimmy follows through on her earlier desire, taking the keys to the family car on his way through the door before hopping behind the wheel, pulling out of his driveway for the final time before hitting the open road empty handed.

|

\ Three hours later /

Letting her head sink into the comfort of her pillow’s cushion, Cathy begins to drift into a sleep she’d been kept from for the last thirty minutes, her mind still racing over the conversation from earlier- one that had tainted her birthday dinner to such a degree that she couldn’t even spare room for dessert. Her lids growing heavy and her breaths growing still and calm, the newly-minted adult begins falling to the sanctuary of slumber just as a sudden tap collects her attention.

Parting as if they hadn’t just been fighting the urge to remain pressed together for a full night’s rest, the girl's eyes open to stare at the moonlight that falls over her face in lieu of her open curtains. Uncertain of whether or not the sound had emanated from a place deep within her subconscious, Cathy waits for a few more moments before closing her eyes once more, having offered fate the chance to prove her prior assumption wrong and been left without a response.

Steadying her breaths yet again, Cathy isn’t even provided the chance to lull herself into another position of comfort before another tap at her window captivates every ounce of her focus, this time drawing her to sit up in her bed and stare at the view-provider. With her blanket shuffled down to her hip, the young woman sits up and waits for a third tapping to steal her attention just as the first set had, proving beyond a doubt that the call is not just one she had conjured up in a near-sleep.

*tap*

Out of the corner of her eye, Cathy watches a small pebble fall back to earth after colliding with the transparent divide separating her from the outside, the third instance enough to draw her out of bed and across the room. Light on her feet, the woman makes her way to the window and unhooks the latches, a smile carried over her face as she looks at the man below, able to have caught a glimpse of him seconds before.

“Happy birthday” Jimmy mutters beneath his breath, unable to finish his statement before feeling the woman’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer to the ladder he’d ascended to reach the home’s second level. “What happened to your face?” Cathy inquires the instant she pulls away, taking note of the swells along the sides of her boyfriend’s visage, the blood stain that he wears down his chin and the bruises that adorn his expression.

“My father- again” Jimmy whispers back, handing the woman a small box before sneaking the rest of the way into her room, gently pressing his feet into the creaking hardwood floor. “He was hitting you again?” the woman wonders aloud, holding the present by her side as the man’s well-being takes priority over her concern, her answer provided in the form of a defeated and breathy nod.

“Yeah, but it’ll be the last time” Jimmy responds, able to feel the aches and pains more than he had whilst at the home, but still hosting enough adrenaline to push him through the interaction. “What do you mean?” Cathy questions aloud, watching her boyfriend gently step closer toward her bed, his voice matching her whisper-like tone as they keep their meeting discreet.

“I fought back. I hit him back-  a lot” Jimmy replies, looking toward the ground as he presses both hands against his sides, an uncertain glare held toward the floorboards, “I might’ve hurt him too bad.” With care, Cathy places the carefully wrapped box upon her bed and takes the man’s hands into his own, her non-dominant hand soon moving up to gently rest against his bruised skin.

“Is he okay? Are you in trouble?” she soon wonders aloud, not immediately stricken with confidence as he looks at her with the same tentativeness as before. “I’m not sure- for both of those questions” Jimmy responds calmly, an apologetic expression soon replacing the one of uncertainty from before, “but I’m not going to be around long enough to find out.”

“What? What does that mean?” Cathy replies, both worried and invested in the remarks laid out by the man she takes comfort in the presence of. “It means I have to leave” Jimmy responds, freeing his hands to collect those his girlfriend rests against him, holding hers within his own, “I have to get out of town and I don’t think I can come back.”

“What? Where? Where will you go?” Cathy wonders back, clearly distraught at the idea that she could be left without her lover, though too concerned with his well-being to even consider such an idea. “I don’t know. Somewhere far away, I suppose” Jimmy replies, shaking his head as he stares off to the side, “I read somewhere that there were a lot of jobs going ‘round out west. Maybe I’ll take a stab at life out there and see what I can make of it.”

“Out west? How far out west?” Cathy continues to ask, each question just asked with the hope of providing clarity to the rather tense situation unfolding at hand. “California, maybe? Or the other ones- Oregon and Washington” Jimmy responds, clearly unsure of what the steps beyond evading justice are to be, “I can find some consistent work and settle down there. Either way, it won’t be close to home.”

“Alright, then let’s go” Cathy quickly retorts, gingerly stepping across the easily-creaking wooden floorboards on her way to the dresser, where she lifts a handful of clothes amidst a line of questioning. “What? No, Cathy- you can’t come with me!” Jimmy rebukes, his voice at a whisper-like hiss as the woman dismisses his refusal, “I came here ‘cause I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“You’re not saying goodbye at all. If you’re skipping town- so am I” Cathy doubles down, opening the clasp to a small suitcase situated atop a chair in the room’s corner. “Cathy, you can’t do that. You’ve got family here, and you’ve got a life here!” Jimmy retorts, watching the woman stack a small handful of clothes in the luggage before returning to her dresser to follow the same process.

“My family doesn’t trust my choices. My family doesn’t believe that I know what’s best for me. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t trust me” Cathy replies, reaching into the drawers once more for another handful of her belongings, “if they can’t trust me, then I can’t be here. And if I can’t be here, I’d prefer to be out there, with you, rather than anywhere else.”

“Cathy, this is crazy talk” Jimmy argues back, watching the woman carefully rest his present in the middle of two piles of clothes, the flap of her luggage buttoning shut as she readies herself to go. “I’ve got a reason to be running off like this, you’ve got too much going for you” the man continues to plead, trying to urge the woman to reconsider her choice, though her posture appears adamant in the call being made, “Cathy, I need you to not follow me.”

“Why not? If it was so important for me to stay here, you’d just keep me from going with you” Cathy whispers back, confronting the man on the pleas he makes to her, “why is it so important that I don’t follow you?”

“Because if you didn’t choose to stay behind, I wouldn’t be strong enough to make you” Jimmy quickly retorts, his words providing a pause over the discourse as the air grows as quiet as both individuals do. His lip trembling as he looks off at the door to the girl’s bedroom, the runaway young man tries to clear his head and compose his thoughts, trying his best to make whatever plea he can to keep the woman from following through with her desire.

“Cathy, you’ve got something really good here. You’ll have more here than I’d be able to provide you like this. I’ll be on the run, I’ll be on the edge and paranoid everywhere we go” Jimmy explains, shaking his head as he holds the woman’s coupled hands within his own, “you’d be giving up a life I’d never be able to give you if you followed me out that window. No matter where we are, I’ll be left reminding myself that I’d taken you from that every day from now until the end of time.”

Bowing his head and pressing his forehead against her knuckles, Jimmy gathers his breath before looking up once more, finishing his thought with the conclusion of the only request he has the strength to make. “Please, don’t follow me out that window” the man asks one final time, looking the woman in the eyes amidst the pause that prevails before waiting for her response, completely unsure of what answer awaits him.

“The only life I want is with you” Cathy concludes, leaning in and pressing her lips against Jimmy’s own before stepping past the man, preparing to join him in venturing for greener pastures out west.

Closing her door gently before climbing into the other side of the carriage, Jimmy wraps his fingers around the steering wheel and looks through the windshield, his girlfriend staring on with her hands delicately folded atop her lap. Unable to convince the woman any further than he already has tried, the driver sets the gears into motion and begins the drive onward, the car’s wheels turning down the gravel pathway that leads away from the home his lover now leaves behind for what’s yet unknown.

== Seattle Noir ==