Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

9 ~ A n n a

                

Flashback ~ December 29, 2010

I walk along the road for a little bit, grateful just to be out in the open, out in the fresh air. No matter how cold it is, how numb my fingers are, I'm just glad to be alone.

My house connects to the highway, which is a safety hazard of course, but by some miracle, we do have neighbors. I pass the car wash, which is frozen over, completely still like someone pressed pause on its remote. I keep trekking along the vacant roads, past the half mile of trees. The whole time, it's dead silent. Peaceful, but dead.

When I break free of the woods, it only takes me a few minutes to get to a small shopping mall on the side of a connecting road. My worn out boots carry me past several stores until I see a square brick building standing alone in the distance.

The Grill is still open. It's a little restaurant, indoor and outdoor seating, the open sign as bright as ever. Inside, I know before I even get to the door, there will be the fresh smell of burgers and Larry will be behind the counter, smiling. Greasy and heart disease encouraging as it is, there's nothing like food from the Grill.

Oh yeah, and they have the best fries.

Ever.

I order a small pack and sit down at one of the tables outside that are covered in ice. There are two tables inside, but I find that sitting there would lead to a conversation with Larry, especially since the place is empty.

And conversations with Larry can get weird.

So I sit, freezing outside, trying to decide how much ketchup to put on my fries. As I eat, I murmur under my breath, just to shatter the quiet on the empty street.

"Welcome, high-cholesterol," I mumble to the fry.

Bite.

"Nice to meet you, high-blood pressure," I dip the fry in some ketchup.

Bite.

"Delicious."

Bite.

And that's when it all sort of changed. Changed for the worse.

One second, I am the redhead freezing in the snow, eating some fries with ketchup to match my hair. Then, in the next second, I'm running. Everything that flashes through my mind in that split second is hard to sort out, but once I'm running, I know I can't stop.

I see him out of the corner of my eye, a dark outline of a figure lost in the lightness of the snow.

But I see him.

His face is masked by a shadow, the hint of a scowl getting lost in the hood that falls over his features. I don't know why exactly I run after him. It might be the determination in his stride towards the convenience store. It might be the cool metal clutched in his hand. Maybe it's because there isn't anyone else out here to help.

I don't have a phone, so it isn't like I can call the police.

And it isn't like Larry can see it from the kitchen inside. I am the only one that sees the gun in the hooded man's tight grip, and I can't just sit there and watch.

I've never been one to just sit back and watch the world pass me by. So when I see that beast with the weapon march toward the store across the street with a gun, I don't know what else to do but run after him, as if I could warn the store clerk before he got inside. As if this is the best plan. As if it will help anything.

My boots pound through the snow.

God, this is stupid.

My hair whispers behind me as I run.

He's got a gun, for goodness sake.

But I keep going anyway.

I cross the road without checking for cars. Like there would be one to run me over anyway, in this weather. I'm just a couple yards away from the man when I see him vanish behind the door of the convenience store, letting it start to swing shut behind him.

I am close enough to see his face, to see the emotion burning in his eyes. His lips are pulled into a tight line, clouds of his warm breath escaping into the cold air. But he doesn't see me. He doesn't look back.

I pause. But the hesitation lasts for only a second before I jump forward to catch the door.

At this point, I honestly don't know what I'm thinking. I'm an idiot. I could have run to a pay phone and called the police. I could have done something, anything, but instead, I chose to slip inside the convenience store before the door shuts me out.

The police wouldn't get here in time, anyway. Nobody is here to serve the warning. Nobody is here to see what comes of his intentions.

If something's going to happen now, I'm the only one here to stop it.

Whoever said that curiosity killed the cat... They've got their facts straight.