Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

2 3 ~ A n n a

Flashback ~ December 29,2010

"No. No that's not my name." I lie into the payphone. I hear a laugh at the other end of the line and I hug myself against the cold.

"That's so cute. You think I can't see you." I look all around, suddenly aware of how out in the open I am. He could be anywhere.

Anywhere.

The thought gives me a chill.

"I don't know who you are." God, I suck at lying. I'm sweating and I sit back down on the bench, the cord barely long enough to reach. The odds of this ending well were slim, but I felt like I was going to faint. Sitting helped, and I still hold the phone to my ear.

"Anna, I don't think you understand." He says, and my stomach twists.

"I have no clue who you are talking about."

"Then why are you still on the phone?" He asks. "Why are you still sitting on that bench?"

I jump up, looking through the darkness. "Where are you?!"

I'm totally going to throw up. It's going to happen. I know it.

"No, no. Sit back down. I have a task for you." His voice is like cold metal. It cuts through the air like a knife.

I sit back down. Can you blame me? No, don't answer that.

"What do you want?" I growl. It was one thing to be running for my life from someone, but now I'm stuck in some sort of drama with him. That's not what I am.

I'm a girl who wants to grow up and move into a town even smaller than mine and play my guitar and read for the rest of my life. I'll meet someone I love and have a million kids and maybe even go to college. It's a fairy tale, I know, but it's what I want.

And Caesar, what a stupid name, is not part of it.

"Hmmm..." He mumbles into the phone. "That's a good question, Anna."

I pull my knees up to my chest on the bench as if making myself smaller would help. "I... I'll give you back the money."

"Like I said. I don't think you understand." The low voice pauses for a moment. "I don't care about the money. To me, this is a game."

I don't move. I don't breathe. He thinks my life is a game? I don't even know what that means.

"Look, Caesar was it?" I wait but he doesn't respond. "I don't have time for this. What is it you want from me?"

Yes, of course, I think to use sarcasm on a murderer. Because I'm that smart.

"You're bold. I like that."

I scoff. "I don't care what you think." I want to hang up as if this couldn't get me killed. But, you know, it could.

And he can see me. I wouldn't stand a chance if I tried to run.

"This is going to be fun." He says, and I could hear the smile in his voice even if I couldn't see it.

"How do you know my name?" I ask. If I'm not going to hang up I might as well get some answers.

"I have people everywhere."

I don't say anything, the cold stinging my face.

And then I see him.

He walks out of the grill, a burger in his hands. The line is dead. I drop the phone.

My feet are screaming at me to get up, to go run, but I know it won't work that way. I try to get my legs to move, to get me off this bench.

I'm sitting here, while a guy with a burger who killed someone just an hour ago walks toward me...

Okay, I'm an idiot. We've established this, but I feel it's necessary to say it again: I'm an idiot.

Caesar slows down as he gets to the bench, sitting down on the other side

I scoot as far away from him as I can.

"Man, have you tasted their burgers?" He asks, leaning back, his hood falling behind him. "Amazing."

I stop for a minute to recognize that, first, this is him and second, I'm screwed.

"I'm a vegetarian," I say. He laughs.

It makes me sick. I just made a murderer laugh. What the hell is wrong with me?

"So," he says between bites, "you obviously know I'm going to kill you."

I don't say anything. I think this is that fight or flight moment. Now it's way too real, with this guy actually sitting beside me and I can see the gun in his pocket.

Fight or flight?

Fight.

No, no. Flight.

I jump up to run but he grabs my arm and I trip. He's still got a hold of me so I sit back down, my arm stinging from his touch.

He finally looks at my face, perusing his lips in concentration. "Your bleeding."

Oh really. I hadn't noticed that, buddy. Thanks for your concern.

Then the malicious grin returns and he lets go of me. "I didn't mean I'm going to kill you right now," he tosses the wrapper on the ground.

I'm literally sitting a foot away from him.

"I need you to get something for me."

I look across the street, following his gaze, at the crime scene. Some of the cars are still there and a few civilians have collected at the crime scene tape to see what happened. I look back at him. "What?"

"You were in there when I asked him about that photograph. I need you to get it back."

Oh. This is even worse. Now I'm running errands for a murderer. Where did my life go wrong?

"And if I don't?" My voice shakes.

He pats the gun in his pocket, and shrugs.

"What's on the photo?" I ask, trying to put the threat in the back of my mind. The photo could be of anything.

"You'll know." He stands up to walk off into the night. "And by the way, I think the old clerk has it."

Wait. He wants me to find a photograph that's...

On a dead body?