run | tinymandyy

coffee shop flashbacks

in italics: flashback or thoughts  (only some thoughts)

"ORDER NUMBER 157? LARGE ICED COFFEE WITH EXTRA CREAM? NUMBER 157?", called the Starbucks worker, holding up my large iced coffee and waving it around in the air. I made sure my many layers of covid 19 masks were secure and sprayed on my rose perfume for the third time in two minutes before walking towards the cashier and taking my drink. 

I snatched that poor iced coffee out of her hand without smiling or saying a simple thank you to the worker... I never do. Who knows what they're hiding behind that mask... who knows when they will strike... who knows anything about this dump-truck of a world we live in... everything is a mess, my brain is a mess, I am a mess.

I walk out of the coffee shop, staring at the order number stuck onto my icy drink while I walk towards a garbage can, transferring the drink into my own cup and throwing the Starbucks one away, as usual. Who knows if there is a tracker on that cup or not? I love it when coffee shops use order numbers instead of names, it's hard to think of a fake name on the spot, I go by the name Bridget Moore usually, but sometimes I forget.

 'Why do you not want to use your real name?' you may ask... because everyone in Lossville City has their own, individual row of numbers on their passport and paperworks; so if they know my name they can track down my passport number and other information such as address, and then eventually track me down, which is NOT good... I can't give anyone my real name and my real identity... I've just lived under a mask my whole life ever since that night when my mum attempted to stab of them... 

My mum was Camille McAllison... and my dad was this random teen that decided he wanted to be my mum's boyfriend... and that soon took a wild turn and made me... yes, I was an accident... a mistake. 

My mum never wanted me, she was just an average teen with her own life on her shoulders. My mum soon dumped my 'dad' and left him back in Roshlyn Shore and flew to Cyline Shore, a beach near Lossville. And Cyline was where my mum died... where I turned eight. 

My mum has their blood too... but she didn't know. She was scared, confused and too shocked to move when they arrived at her door in the middle of the night one day...  she had no idea how they found her as she had bought a cabin in the middle of a literal forest. 

When they barged into her house that night, she quickly acted on her instincts, hopped out of bed, dragged me along and grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter, shielding me behind her back while shielding herself with nothing but a little kitchen knife that wasn't even properly sharpened...

I still remember her soothing voice and silky, long hair falling onto my little face... but I also remember the exact words she yelled that night... and I don't just remember the words; I remember the whole thing...

"STAY BACK! DON'T TOUCH MY KID! NO, NO! STOP! UGH, AHH! GET OFF! NO! BONNIE RUN! RUN! RUN AS FAR AS YOU CAN BONNIE! I LOVE YOU! RUN SWEETIE!", she yelled in pain as their claws dug into her leg... dark, purple blood tricked down her leg, dripping onto the now stained floor... she yelped and screamed as she dug the sharp kitchen knife into one of their thighs... allowing their purple blood to stain the floor too...

They screamed in pain but also shock, they didn't know how a simple 'human' could stab so strong... but my mum was not human... and I am not either... 

One of them took out a large axe and- "RUN-", her last words before collapsing onto the purple stained kitchen floor... 

'Run'. I remember that scene so clearly, it's like a crystal, always shimmering and shining in my head, reminding me that I am not alone... all I remember after her attempting to stab one of the many of them was the cold, sharp rocks and dry leaves crunching under my feet as I ran and ran and ran... far, far away from that now abandoned and probably collapsed cabin...

I could still remember and feel the feeling of the rocks digging into my feet... but all I remember now is my purse... my perfume! Still in the coffee shop! Oh shit. And that was another time my unfocused and always-wandering brain saved my life.

I was already half way to my pop-up tent when I realised I forgot my purse in the coffee shop... it wasn't really that important but in it was my one and only alive and still working perfume, and you know I can't let out my scent. I gulped down the remaining drops of the now warm coffee and sprinted back to the coffee shop. I ran into the shop, slamming the door shut as I ran to my seat. Oh shit. OH SHIT. MY BAG IS NOT THERE. I AM HYPERVENTILATING RIGHT NOW. I CANNOT AND WILL NOT TALK TO ANYONE. OH SHIT. I calm down and whip out my emergency notebook and pencil and write in wobbly letters the words: i left my purse here. I rip off the sheet and hand it to a near by worker, avoiding all physical contact.

"Soo... you've lost your purse young lady? What's your name?", asked the gentleman, smiling.

'no. my purse plz.' were the words he got in return (that I scribbled down of course).

"Oh, nevermind that then. I picked up a purse around half an hour ago on those seats back there, what colour was yours", he asked, pointing at the seat I left my purse on.

'black.'

"Oh great, follow me then!"

'no.'

"Ok..? I'll be right back then, wait here for me.", the worker said with a smile before disappearing into the back of the shop.

A sudden rush of relief flooded my body when I found out my perfume was safe. Thank god I didn't need to talk! So many people think it's mean to just say 'no', but you gotta do what you gotta do to stay safe. Soon the same boy appeared out of the back, walking towards me with my purse.

"Here you are young lady, come back another time to try our limited edition iced barbie drink launching in a week! See you!", the boy said, waving me goodbye as I snatched my bag and ran out the door. 

The first thing I did when I broke free from that stuffy and hideously small cafe was throw my purse in the bin and fully sanitise all the little bits and bobs inside... as I completely lathered my gum packet in the minty and cold sanitiser, I remembered the boy... he just seemed so different the everyone else I've met... I like thi-... no. I don't like this boy, I can't like this boy... I will not make the same mistake my mum did... 

... but I think he likes me... and that's not good...

so how do you like bonnie? is she a little too mysterious or protective of her identity? any suggestions? the next chapter will be a little more chaotic!