Red Road

Chaper One

    Monday, march 16, **18

    I woke up in the same place I always do. My small little one bed, one bath apartment. I sat up, stretching, and looked at the clock. It was 3:34 am. The red glowing figures started to hurt my retinas. I blinked the image away, moving a stray hair from my mouth. I should probably head back to sleep, I thought, I still have a few hours till I need to be up.
    Resting my head back on the pillow, I realized why I had woken up. My upstairs neighbors were at it again. Covering my face with the blanket, I tried to drown out the sounds of their arguing. They sounded just like my dad and father had, before the divorce. Groaning, I removed the pillow, rubbing my eyes and accepting the fact that there was no more sleep happening for me today.
    I slowly rolled out of my bed and stepped into the small bathroom. It was comfortable, but there wasn’t a tub. Just a shower… but I made do. Taking off my pajamas and brushing my teeth, I turned the water spout on so that I wouldn't have to freeze my left butt cheek off first thing in the morning. Yawning, I monitored the temperature impatiently.
    After finally finishing my shower and stepping out, I readied myself for work. I dried my hair, chose my outfit, unplugged my phone from the charger and grabbed my stuff so I could head out. I’m sort of glad that I woke up early today. That means that a nearby drive-thru breakfast place will be open, and I’ll have enough time to run by it. I started heading in the direction of the restaurant.
    I’m just about to pull up into the drive-thru lane when something shifts. I’m no longer hungry. What just happened? I shrug it off and decide to skip the place, canceling my first meal of the day.
    I arrive at the office and pull into my parking spot. I’m still over an hour early though, and don’t get paid overtime. I’m still a bit sleepy, so I turn off the car, lean my seat back, bundle my jacket into a ball and try to take a quick nap. I really didn't feel like going into work today. I didn’t want to deal with rude people again, fix my coworkers mistakes, have to deal with that one rude lady who never listens to any of us and then gets mad when whatever she’s trying to do doesn't work out as she wanted it to. Why was my life like this? Ever since my dad’s death, I’ve felt weirder and weirder. Honestly, my reaction to the news was weird as well. I don't feel anything. I knew that I was supposed to cry, or get mad, or maybe even freak out and destroy some essential part of my life out of grief for him. But I didn't.
When I had picked up the phone call from the hospital and heard about what happened, I felt none of that. I was numb. It’s honestly more stressful not to be able to cry about it now, and I hate the fact that I couldn't feel the right emotions. My life has almost always been like this. At least after I turned 9 or 10. It had gotten so bad that even my best friend found it disturbing. He avoids me now.
    I focus on my vision and get to working. I have a job at a clinic for chidrens’ illnesses. I don't do any of the heavy lifting, like the doctors and nurses do, but I take calls, set appointments, and type out long reports to submit to my boss on a variety of things. How my coworkers got along, how I was getting along, my most memorable experience of the month, all that fun jazz. My boss says it's to keep up the office morale, but if I’m honest, it's just another thing added to  my plate of things to do.
    As I’m typing this report, I get a news notification on my phone. I decided to take a moment to look at it. After all, I’m not at the front desk today. I can spare a few seconds.
    Opening the notification from the app, I remembered that one restaurant I wanted to go to. I’m sort of regretting not stopping, but it was too late now.
    The article was about some landmine being placed in a drive thru someplace, killing the driver and his daughter. I thought it was weird, but didn’t question it. As I scroll down, though, I notice that the photo of the establishment looked awfully familiar…
    Was that the place I was going to get breakfast this morning?
    I look into the details more, checking the date and time of this being published. Of course, this had happened four hours ago, the article being published only fifteen minutes before now. I remember how I felt in the car when I passed by the place. I shivered, feeling lucky to have avoided it.
    The rest of the day was about the same as any other. A few people struck up a conversation with me, several of which were about that whole landmine thing. I tried to ignore the weird feeling I had felt about it, but it kept buzzing in the back of my mind. I continued working, managing to distract myself. Soon enough, I forgot about it. Closing time came around, and I was getting ready to leave. I grabbed my keys and stepped towards the door.
    But something stopped me. I set my bag down, walking back into the office. My coworker, Amy, walked past me. She joked about me forgetting something, and I just laughed along. She headed towards the door, and I headed towards the front desk.
    I just messed around for a while, reorganizing a few things. I wiped down the counters again, and I restocked the free coffee and tea thing. After a while, the weird feeling began to fade. I let out a long sigh, relaxing, and headed towards the back door so that I could head out. I grabbed my purse and keys, locking up for the night. As I walked out to the parking lot, I noticed that there was another car along with mine still sitting there.
    Amy had left a while ago, right? So why was her car still there? She wasn’t sitting in it, from what I could see… Maybe she had walked somewhere?  No, that didn’t make any sense either. I cautiously walked over towards it. The car was still locked, and none of her stuff was inside. I looked around again, confused.
    That was when the smell hit me. It smelled like copper, like rust. I tried to figure out where it was coming from. This didn't seem normal at all. I walked towards the front of the office and saw nothing. What was going on? What was I even thinking? Amy was probably fine..
    But what if she wasn’t? I kept walking, almost completely zoned out by the time I came around the back wall.
    That was when I saw it. Her body was discarded on the ground, several gaping wounds glaring up at me. There was blood everywhere.. Her throat, her chest, her stomach…
    She had been killed.
    My heart sank and I fumbled around in my purse, gagging, looking for my phone. I dialed 911, still shocked. The operator answered, and I told her where I was. They asked what had happened, and I described the scene in front of me. I told them that Amy was my coworker, that I had just seen her not long ago. The rest seemed a blur, but I remember giving some cops as much information as I could about that day. Of course, I held back from talking about the weird feeling that told me not to go outside, even though it was eating at me. Why did I feel guilty? I couldn’t have done anything to help, even if I had known. It was all so surreal…