Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

8 2 ~ A n n a

                 

Flashback ~ December 31, 2010

Just looking at the line of interconnected buildings, the Grill, the picnic tables, and the park bench makes me want to hurl again. And Lord knows that I've eaten enough today to do just that.

You wouldn't know that there was a murder here or even a robbery since everything has died down. There are no longer ambulances. No more cop cars. Not even that yellow tape you see in the movies that outline the places that civilians aren't allowed to go. There's nothing that makes it look any different than the day of the robbery before I ran after the man with the gun. Nothing except that every store seemed to have a closed sign in their windows.

All except the Grill. It pains me to know that Caesar is probably the one keeping it open. Who knows what he used against Jerry to keep the place open for the next couple days. I wonder when this town is going to catch a break.

At first, I'm not really sure what to do. Do I head over to the Grill to see if Caesar is there? Or do I head over to the convenience store to see if there is someone there that knows something about the photo?

I'm walking before I'm even aware that I've made a decision. I can't face Caesar right now. He killed my family. He killed me.

I circle around the complex and towards where the back of the convenience store meets the trees. It would be better if I broke in through the back, right? I shouldn't go through the front. There are too many eyes watching that door at the moment.

I wonder for a moment if any of the other store owners are in their stores. If they're scared to be here after what happened. I know I am.

After standing at the back door for a few minutes, just watching and waiting for someone to... I don't know. Stop me? Find me?

I knock.

Why? I don't know.  Really? Who is going to answer?

Nothing happens. I stand there for a couple more seconds, ready to break in. Ready to find something to break off the door knob and the dead bolt. Maybe something to try and pick it.

Suddenly, the door opens.

I stop, frozen in my own tracks. I spin around so fast that I almost drop my guitar case.

And there he is, staring back at me...

It's the store clerk.

He's alive.

If Caesar didn't kill him, then who did he kill?

The old man's face is the same, but his hair is more frazzled and he has puffy bags under his eyes to mirror my own.

And he recognizes me, too. He must remember me because he stumbles on his words for a minute before he sighs. "Come on in, girl."

I blink. I blink again. But he's still standing there.

Then I walk carefullytowards him and follow him into the back of his shop.