Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

1 0 6 ~ R u s t y

                 

Present Day ~ July 24, 2011

Caesar spits a string of curse words at me as he kicks me into the side of the bridge. I hit it hard, feeling my body collide with the structure with the sound of a sickening crack. It's dark out now, the lights are disappearing from the sky. I cough into the gravel that has made its way to the sides of the road on the bridge.

My elbow and knee that I landed on sting as I stand up. I feel something warm and wet trickling down from that stinging sensation, and I choose not to pay any attention to it.

Just looking at him out here gives me chills. He's smiling as he watches me, cocking his head sideways as if to analyze me. I want to throw up. I've wanted to throw up at least ten times today because of everything, but this time...

This shouldn't be so bad. I've already kind of said goodbye to Blue. He's going to look out for Toby. And Bailey and them... they don't need me as much as I needed them. My disappearing without a goodbye isn't going to hurt them as much as it hurts me.

And if we end this tonight... Then they won't be in danger anymore.

I try to back away from him as he comes closer, but my back hits the concrete side again. I glance around and only see pitch blackness down below. It's the water. It's all darkness.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he comes close, and immediately regret it when his eyes darken. "What are you doing?!" I yell again, even though I know he won't answer.

"I'm going to tell you a little story."

My feet seem to be failing me. He isn't pointing a gun at me. He isn't forcing me to stay here. I could run.

I look back at the edge of the bridge, where two people are now standing. Same thing on the other side. Even if I ran... those damn puppets will catch me. Two against one. I would never make it.

Caesar is inches away from me now, and I can smell the mint on his breath. And something sharp and bitter... alcohol? I gag and he scowls.

"See, I've been racking my brain for days. I needed the best possible way for this game to end. Our little story needed a good ending, and only one of us could come out on top," he whispers this into my ear, then leans back to smile at me. My fingertips are scraping against the concrete wall behind me, and it hurts, but I can't stop. The entire time, I'm frozen. I can't move. I can't breathe. But yet, somehow, those damn tears manage to fight their way out of my eyes.

What is he going to do to me?

"Sit on the wall," he says, stepping back just a bit.

"What?" I croak.

"Sit on the wall, Anna. It's alright. I'm not going to kill you yet. I'm not done with the story." He stands back and waits. Waits for me to run. Or to obey him.

There's no point in running now.

But I try anyway, bolting around him. He swipes me back into the side of the bridge in one swift motion. My head starts to pound and my ears ring.

I look around to see the puppets on each end of the bridge close in slightly.

Slowly, I turn to the wall, looking over at the water. I don't like having my back turned to him, so I turn back around. Carefully, so measured and slow that I don't realize I've stopped breathing until I'm done, I reach back to the wall. And I pull myself up onto the concrete.

He's going to push me over.

This is how I die?

When he's satisfied with my level of discomfort, he clears his throat and keeps talking.