Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

4 9 ~ R u s t y

                 

Present Day ~ July 10, 2011

I take one last glance around the studio before I go. I didn't think that I could get so attached to a little room on the back of a garage, dressed up in its painted clouds and unfinished works. But I did.

For some reason, I remember that I'm wearing my only pair of shoes. Do I really want to live like this, running from place to place for the rest of my life? Eventually caught by a murderer who wants me dead? Or turned into the police?

I know I shouldn't have left Wallen. The fair was too close to home. It was a huge risk, and I got careless. I shouldn't have been surprised to see Charlie. I know she goes to these kinds of things. I should have seen her before she saw me.

I plan to be out of here before Bailey gets back. I know we completely ditched her at the fair, but it wasn't like she didn't have a ride back with Sawyer and Colt. She was going to be fine.

I stop before heading out of the room and drop my stuff on the bed. Next to the easel is a stack of stencils that Bailey was using yesterday. I grab the next set, taping them up where they are marked on the wall. The other color of spray paint she has set aside is a light turquoise. Taking a deep breath, hoping I'm doing this right, I spray over the stencil and onto the wall.

Giving it a second before I take off the stencil. I see why Sawyer thought the stencils made spiders the first time around, but now it's easier to see. It's not a painting of spiders, but a flurry of snowflakes. They are all different sizes, spread out like you blew them out of your hand.

I smile slightly at the work.

I don't know why I do what I do next. I know the painting isn't finished. It's probably got another layer, but I bend down in the corner, careful not to get in the way of where the snowflakes are. I spray the letter R on the white background and watch as it runs down a little and hits the baseboard.

If she wants to cover it up, she can, but this is kind of my goodbye message.

Then I wipe off my hands, which are stained blue, and grab my bags. I duck out through the window instead of heading out of the garage. It's quieter, and I won't risk running into anyone.

I start walking along the road to the center of town. Odds are that anyone who will stop to let me hitchhike with them probably saw me at the festival. They might call the cops. It's too dangerous to leave town now... The police are probably everywhere searching for me. Instead, I decide to head to the one place where no one will find me.

As I get to Archie's, the theater stares at me from across the empty street. I rush past the clouded ticket windows and straight to the back door. It takes me a few minutes to get back inside and find the viewing room.

A hole in the ceiling forces the dim light from outside to glare down into one area of the floor and when I get to it, I drop my bags.

I just want to scream. I grab my hair in fistfuls and pull, squeezing my eyes closed.

What the hell am I going to do? I really screwed up this time.