A Day In The Life - {Watty Awards 2015}

Chapter 15: She Came In Through The Bathroom Window (Melinda)

Cellar. Cellar? I knew that the key hadn't been there before; I took inventory every day, and I was in control of every estate purchase. Someone had put it here, and it wasn't me. Nobody had been here all day. We had bells on every door. At least, no one had left since I'd been here.

“Melinda?” James called me from across the room. “Are you about done?”

“Oh,” I called back, “Uh, yeah.” I slipped the key into my pocket, figuring that I might need it later, completely unaware that this was technically considered stealing from my workplace. I went back to him and collected the rag and glass cleaner, heading for the basement, where resided the cleaning cupboard. Because the building was at the very least 100 years old, the basement was an underground portion of the store. I climbed down the stairs, as I had at least a thousand times, without turning on the light, half because I knew where everything was, and half because I wanted to conserve energy. In retrospect, considering my then-present situation, it was a fairly stupid move. I walked forward into the pitch-black basement. I unlatched the door and put the various cleaning supplies away. While I stood there, I heard a person crying for help. They were not the tears of a person who feels sorry for themselves, or a person who doesn't know the true meaning of suffering. These were the tears of a person who had recently been so tortured that they could no longer do anything but cry. They had forgotten how to be a person. They had been so degraded that they no longer knew what a person was. All that they knew was pain. I turned, but, of course, considering the darkness of the room, I could see absolutely nothing. At this point, somewhere in the back of mind, my fight or flight instinct sparked. I had two options: I could run for the light, turn it on, and find out who was down there. Or, because there always is an “or,” I could run and find James, try to forget the situation altogether, and potentially find myself ten seconds closer to finding Jeb.

I ran.

I was out of the room before I even had the chance to consider my options. Before I realized that I even had two options, I found myself locking the door to the basement, slipping the key into my pocket.

I barely managed to collect myself before walking back into the front room, where James was waiting. “So,” he asked, “where are we going?”

“Anthony's house.” I replied, entirely forgetting that he knew almost none of what Jeb and I had researched, on account of the fact that he had literally just arrived.

“And Anthony is... A wise guru who exists only to tell you where Jeb is?” He asked just as I was about to tell him.

“He's the first person this guy kidnapped, at least the first around here. Anthony Groeneweld—can I explain this in the car?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he responded, “after you?” He gestured to the back door, through which lay my car.

“Right.” I grabbed my coat and unlocked the door. “After you, actually, sir.” He walked out the door and I locked it behind us.

“Which one is yours?” He asked.

“The Impala over there,” I turned to look at the parking lot, immediately realizing how strange the question had been. I was the only person who ever parked back here. I turned to see not one, but three cars: mine, my boss', and my boss' son's. I supposed that I had just been a little too on-edge after the situation in the basement. It had been nothing to worry about. They were probably just parked here so that they could go for a walk around town. They did that sort of thing occasionally.

“Wow,” he walked over to the car, “very nice car. How does it run?”

“Surprisingly well. It's shit on gas, but it runs well enough for a daily commute. It is a fairly small town. Can't drive too far because there aren't too many places to go.” But there were. There were so many places one could go, unwillingly. There were so many places where a single person could be hidden, alone, made to scream and cry out—