Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

1 7 ~ A n n a

Flashback ~ December 29, 2010

I don't see him.

The hooded man never comes down the highway. He never catches up to me. Not yet, anyway. But I stay curled up at the edge of the woods, still waiting. Maybe now I'm not waiting for him. Maybe now I'm waiting for the light of day.

The knees of my jeans are ripped and I can feel the cold biting my skin through them. It's like a thousand pins and needles digging into me, and the silence? I've never thought of silence as something that could be this loud. It's pressing in on me, pulling me down into the dirt and snow. I feel like I might explode if something doesn't break it soon.

What was he looking for? I had been too scared to wonder about it before, but now it comes flooding back. What did that man want?

It wasn't the money, that's for sure. He'd left it on the counter as he walked into the back room. To him, I think it was just a cover for what he was really looking for, whoever was in that photo he showed the clerk.

The man with the gun had chosen that convenience store on purpose. He could have walked into anywhere else, but he chose that door to open. He had a person in mind, a person to look for.

To shoot.

And here I am, a witness to his crime, a girl who saw too much and had interfered with his plans. There is no chance he will let me live. There's a target on my back now. And I've got to watch out for the guy aiming at it.

Finally, when I can no longer feel my knees and the silence was so penetrating that I can't breathe, I stand up. My fingers grip the tree next to me, a wave of nausea fighting against my balance.

Slowly, I walk out towards the highway. My feet are stinging with the snow inside my boots. I was shaking, and for once, I felt something warm through the snow.

I reach up and touch the trail of blood on my forehead, hot against my skin.

Everything inside of me is turning. I think I might fall back down, but then I close my eyes. I count to three. Open them again. Everything is a little clearer, at least for now.

I can't hide anymore. It's time I stop waiting.

I reach the highway.

I turn to walk towards my house, then stop. I can't lead this man home to my family. Sure, everyone will be worried sick that I stayed out all night, but it would be better than letting them get killed by the murderer who probably wants me dead.

I turn in the opposite direction and walk the highway. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough. So I focus on the fading moon in the sky, my feet tapping and sliding against the gloomy ice as I go.

Tapping and sliding.

Tapping and sliding.