Truthseekers {Petekey}

1: This is a Robbery

The Christmas lights sparkle on the apartment buildings and offices in the city, but it's not much light to see by. I keep my head down with my beanie pulled tight around my ears, my hands tucked into my pockets.
My Vans tap against the sidewalk, not thick enough to keep my feet warm in the snow. There's a sort of crunching sound behind me. When I turn, I see nothing.
I try to ignore it and keep walking. It's not a big deal. I'll just get back home and lock the door, get in bed and fall asleep. I won't have to think about it at all. Crunch. There it is again. I turn around. Nothing.
It's all in my head. Just get home. The wind nips at me, and I zip up my jacket to try and fight the cold. It doesn't do much to keep me any warmer, but if I pretend, maybe it feels a little better.
Chicago winters are brutal. Sometimes I wonder why I moved here, but I know it's worth it sometimes. I get paid so much better working here than I did in Jersey, and I was able to find an apartment that let me have my cat. Snowball, my beloved little baby.
Crunch, crunch. There's still nobody behind me. Maybe it's just my ears. Maybe I'm just hearing myself walking and think it's somebody else. I'll be fine. Breathe in, breathe out.
I make the last turn into the alley before I cut across the street to my apartment. The crunching only gets louder, but maybe I'm speeding up.
A fist connects with the back of my head before I get the chance to turn around again. Skidding to my knees, I try to catch myself, but I'm hit again. My vision goes blurry and I realize my glasses have fallen off somewhere, and I think I might be bleeding.
"Wallet. Now," someone behind me demands. A strong voice. His hand grabs the back of my neck, squeezing me tight until I feel like I'm choking.
Who's gonna get home and feed Snowball?
"Your wallet. Before I have to shoot you." Something cold presses against the back of my head. "I'll fucking do it, kid. Give me your wallet."
I fumble around my pocket for it, tossing it aside and praying he doesn't kill me. He throws me to the floor while he scrapes up the money.
"Goodnight." I hear the gun cock against the back of my skull, my ears ringing.