Anti-Hero | Tim Bradford

Chapter Thirteen - Risking

One Year Ago.

March 16th.

Despite every fibre of her being screaming for her to run in the other direction, Morgan kept her pace steady as she approached Lamberts Coffee Shop. The place had been in operation for as long as she could remember, the owner, Reggie Lambert, was Morgan's landlord at one point in time. She had always come here on weekends when the old man had been working behind the counter. If he still did, she would not have come. He was another life that she could not risk.

Pulling her hood over her head, she entered the cafe and placed an order for a plain black coffee. She would normally go for some complex, overly sugary coffee but talking was the last thing she wanted to do so the bitter taste would have to do. It came in a flimsy paper cup, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust, Morgan made her way to the back of the cafe and sat down in the furthest corner.

This spot, unlike the rest of the store, did not attract many customers to sit. The lack of windows causes the area to seem unwelcoming and somewhat neglected. All of the sofas and the comfier chair were in the main section of the cafe, near the counter. If it were a normal day, she would have sat on the green sofa she had once owned. It got donated to Reggie when she moved in with Tim.

The sofa was old and worn down in all the best ways. The cushions seemed to consume anyone who sat on it. The tops of the cushions had lost some colour over the years and the cotton blend covers had gotten softer with use. Blankets were strewn over the back and there were some decorative pillows stacked up one one side.

Her favourite part was the small embroidery over top of the frontmost left foot. She had embroidered her and Tim's initials into it just before she gave it away. The sofa had been her first purchase when she had started as a rookie Even though she had gotten it second hand herself, it had become one of her most valuable possessions. It hurt to give it away, even though she knew that she would be back in the cafe. It was like she was giving up a part of her life.

Morgan chuckled at the thought. Of course she thought it was one of the most tragic things, if only she could see herself now. Sitting in a cafe on the off chance she may see Tim again.

He didn't know she was here, so he had no reason to come. They had always come together, the only time they had come alone was the day they had met. Reggie had mixed up their orders (he claimed it was accidentally but Morgan knew that he had been trying to get her to get back on the dating scene for a while). They sat down together and chatted. Tim left with her number. It was March 16th.

And they have spent every March 16th there since. Until now.

Morgan winced at the strong bitter taste of her coffee, slightly regretting not taking the extra seconds to get cream. She placed the cup back down on the table, she could bear the taste while she waited. It only took another couple of minutes, before the bell on top of the door chimed again. Morgan looked up at the noise and then back down at the sight of an elderly couple walking in.

It passed this way for a few hours. She would look up when the door chimed, only to look away when another stranger entered. She would take a sip of her now cold coffee and wait for another chime. By the time the clock read 4:30, she had been drinking from an empty cup for at least an hour.

Resigned to the fact that she would not see Tim today, Morgan binned her cup and moved in a hurry, cursing herself that she had thought that he would be there. Why would he have, he had no reason to go anymore. She was no longer in his life, she was no longer an anniversary worth remembering.

Adjusting her hood and keeping her head down, she opened the door to exit but waited for a man to enter. Swiftly, she left the premises, barely registering the all too familiar voice thanking her.

Morgan left the city after that. She knew the risk she had taken by coming here today, a part of her was thankful that she hadn't seen Tim today because her selfishness hadn't cost him anything. It took a few hours to arrive back at the dingy motel she had taken as residence.

The door was open when she arrived.

She had always gone out of her way to ensure that her accommodation was thoroughly locked and secure. There was no way that she had left it like that, it wasn't in her nature. Nothing Has changed inside, her spare firearm was still tucked away in the bathroom cabinet, and her phone she used to call Williamson was still under the bed-side table. None of her clothes had moved from where she had strewn them across the floor.

The only difference was a polaroid on the bed.

The image was slightly blurry but it was clear what was being shown. Reggie slumped forward in a chair he was tied to. He was badly bruised, sporting a broken nose and a blackened eye. His lip was swollen up and cut from where had bitten down in pain. Blood was streaming from a wound on his head and from a single bullet wound in his chest.

As she examined the image even more, it became clear why such an atrocity had happened. At the bottom of the photograph in the white frame were two simple words.

Strike Two.

Silent, she picked up the photograph and moved to open the bedside drawer. Gently, she placed it down into the drawer on top of an nearly identical picture of her brother that read Strike One.

She knew what this meant. She had been sloppy. And she would pay the price. As she closed the door, she swore that she would not let her emotions allow her to make a decision that ended up taking a life of someone she loved.