Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

3 8 ~ A n n a

Flashback ~ December 30, 2010

I wake up to the pouring rain. I wake up to the world cracking down like lightning and thunder roaring through the house. It's like mother nature is angry with me for what I did, and I don't blame her.

God, what had I done?

Everyone is going to want to know what happened. What do I say to that? Everyone is going to be whispering about me, moving carefully around me when I'm in the room. They are going to treat me like I'm fragile like I've been broken and glued back together, but they think I will fall back apart.

It's five AM, a clock flashes at me. It's too dark to see much, but I can tell that I'm in my own room. I smell the air freshener that I know so well and what little light there is streams in through my pale white curtains.

As soon as I sit up I regret it. My head pounds with the force of a thousand drums and my hand instinctively comes up to my forehead. I'm surprised to find a bandage there.

It takes me a few minutes to get out of my bed and to the window. It's hard to see anything outside because of the storm, but there is one thing that catches my eye.

I blink my eyes a few times, but it's still there.

A blue car is parked on the side of the highway, and a flash of lightning last just long enough for me to see the profile of a man inside.

I have people everywhere, Caesar had said. I was being watched. I pull the curtains closed.

I take a minute to think. I really only have two options here. I could go back to sleep and face reality in the morning, or I could try to figure out what happened after I got home last night.

Well, there's no way I'm going back to sleep now.

I slip out of my room and listen to my quiet footsteps as I make my way to the kitchen. Our house is only one story, so I don't have to tiptoe down any stairs to get there.

As I shut the door behind me, I flick on the light. It takes me by surprise how bright it is. A first aid kit is still left open on the table, a couple of towels and blankets draped over the chairs. A trash can stands beside the chairs that has dried bloody napkins in it.

Then I realize the curtains here are open too.

Quickly, I start pulling them all closed. And then I stop in front of the last one, looking out to see if the car is still there.

With the light on behind me, all I can see is my own reflection in the window. I'm in clean clothes and my hair is dry, but that's not what sticks out to me.

I carefully peel off the bandage on my forehead, looking closer at the dark purple bruise surrounding a cut. I look like I had just been in a bar fight or something. There are dark circles under my eyes and my lips are chapped from the cold.

I lean closer to the glass and put my hands around my eyes to block the light. His car is still there.

I shut the curtains and head to the front door. I slip my bare feet into a pair of my mom's rain boots and grab my jacket from the hook beside the door, pulling the hood over my head.

I slip out the door and walk to the road.

The rain has melted some of the snow but the temperature outside is still chilling and thin. I don't know exactly what I am planning to do, but I figure that it's kind of my job to clean up my mess.

It's so dark and the rain is so heavy that I can hardly see where I'm going, and I get the feeling that more than one pair of eyes is watching me.

The man in the car doesn't move as he sees me approach. My legs are shaking, and it's the first time I realize I'm wearing shorts out here. I reach his window and he just looks at me.

No, I'm fine freezing out here, sir. Please don't be so eager to help.

I knock on the window and he sighs, annoyed.

He rolls it down so that just the slightest crack is visible at the top of the window. "What?" His gruff voice mumbles.

"Why," I pull the jacket closer around me. "Why are you parked outside my house?"

He gives me a funny look like I'm one fry short of a happy meal or something. "I'm an undercover police officer. We are keeping a 24-hour watch on this house."

I stall for a second. If he was a police officer, then he would probably be arresting me right now. They had to have seen the tapes and have orders to bring me in for questioning.

He squints through the glass, seeing the shivers running through me. "Are you Anna Blake?"

I hesitate, but nod.

"I have a few questions for you about last night. Why don't you hop in and warm up?"

He's a cop. You're supposed to trust cops. So why am I getting such a weird vibe from him?

I shake my head. "Can you just leave my house?"

The man gives me another one of those pitying looks and I take a step back from the car. It's fake. He can't be a cop. Something is off.

I have people everywhere.

"Ma'am, if you wouldn't mind--" His voice is hard and I cut him off.

"Can I see your badge?" I ask, feeling the rain slowly fill up my boots. A crack of thunder rolls through me and I jump a little. I standing in a puddle in the middle of a thunderstorm...

The man's face takes on a new look and he doesn't move to get his badge.

"Why are you watching my house? Did he put you up to this?" I take another step back.

"He just wants to know if you are going to play," the man growls and starts to open his door, but I instinctively kick it shut again.

"I'm not going to get his photo if that's what you mean," I don't move, waiting to see what he does next.

"I don't think that's what Caesar wants to hear, little girl." He starts his car, the rumble hidden by the thunder. I watch as the man pulls away.

I stand there, drenched in the storm's anger, and the car quickly disappears in the distance. Like he was never here.

I take a few steps back and then turn to run inside.

Now Caesar's little puppet is going to report back to him. And he's not going to be happy about what I had to say.

I close the door behind me quietly and kick off the boots. I start to pull off my jacket, but I feel something in the pocket, my breath catching.

Oh God.

I reach in and pull out a wad of cash, my eyes glued to the wet paper.

Before I had realized how much trouble I was getting into, I had thought about how great this money was. It would mean we weren't drowning in debt anymore. It would mean that we can take care of everyone again.

And now, even though this money is tainted, it can still do that.

So I walk towards the pantry, reach back for the peanut butter jar, and drop the money inside.