The screech of my alarm jolted me awake. Smacking the button I flinched. The fast movement had tugged on my stitches. Well no way I'm going to the gym today. Nah. I stepped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Oh look I forgot to bar my door great. Thundering lazily down the stairs I kept an eye out for any changes. Nothing. I grabbed a bowl of cereal and thought about what to do today. Jones said he'd come to talk to me today. I'm not sitting around all day waiting for that loudmouth. I don't have work. I should take a vacation. Eh. Maybe after my arm heals. How long could that take? Where would I go? Water park? Yes. Oh I haven't been there in forever. I'll wait to see how this is healing before I ask. I placed my bowl in the sink and wandered back upstairs. Changing into day clothes I moved into my study. Turning on my computer I Googled how long it takes for a stitched wound to heal. "A few days to a couple weeks," I muttered, "how specific. Let's see what it should look like when the stitches are ready to come out. Hmm." I scrolled through a few websites. "Areas of the body other than face or hands. 7-10 days," I read. I can wait that long. Break is a few weeks long so I have time. I flipped over to YouTube. I noticed a very odd video in my recommend section. "How to know if you're being stalked" Ironic and a bit creepy as I haven't looked up anything about stalkers. Well. Off incognito that is. I clicked on the video and settled back in my chair to watch.
---you-know-what-this-means-----------
The video had some good information, and funnily bad acting. So I shouldn't leave evidence of my planned vacation around the house if I don't want to be followed. Would he really follow me to another country? Yea. He would. The doorbell rang, crashing my train of thought. Jogging downstairs I looked though the peep hole. Officer Jones stood outside, texting someone. I slid on a thin sweater to cover the bandage on my arm before opening the door. "Hey, come on in," I greeted him. He looked up from his phone, surprised. "Oh, hi," he stepped inside. "I guess you're here to talk about yesterday huh," I asked. Jones nodded, pulling out an audio recorder. "Do you want to sit down," he glanced at my head wound, "this could take awhile." I lead him to the kitchen, opening the blinds for some light. I sat down at the table, after grabbing a coke from the fridge. "Want one," I motioned to the drink. He shook his head, sitting down across from me. "Are you ready to recount yesterday's events," he asked lightly. I nodded. He clicked on the recorder, "This is an audio recording of Jackie Greenwood Silversmith. Recorded by Sargent Alfred Jones. Ms. Silversmith was both a witness and an element in an attempted robbery at the Starbucks on Baker Street. According to security footage and numerous witnesses already interviewed she stopped the robber long enough for the police, myself included, to arrive. Is this correct?" "That is correct," I confirmed. Are we really going to lie to the police? You shouldn't do that. It's fine. It's a small lie. YOU GOT SHOT. The bullet only grazed me. He gave a small nod, "Please state what happened that morning." I sighed before beginning to speak, "I was at the Starbucks to get some coffee after my workout-" "You were working out with your head wound from the mall incident?" "A reduced work out," I told him, "I wasn't trying to push myself. May I continue?" "Yes you may, sorry for the interruption," he apologized. I took a deep breath, "anyway. After my short workout I went to get some coffee while I waited for the bus." Jones held up a hand to stop me, "Is the bus system your primary mode of transportation?" "Yes it is," I sighed, "I went into the Starbucks and ordered my drink, the man who tried to rob the place wasn't there yet. I stood off to the side to wait for my coffee, after a few moments he walked in." "You were able to tell he was bad news immediately," Jones asked. For the love of whatever you deem holy Jones. Shut up and let me talk. "He didn't take his hood off upon entering the building which was a bit suspicious," I replied, "when he reached the counter he pulled off his hood revealing the bandana over his mouth and nose. He also pulled a gun on the barista. He told them to empty the register. Somebody whispered to call the police and he heard them. He turned around and threatened us. When he turned back to the barista, I acted. I walked slowly up behind him and grabbed him in a choke hold. He had almost lost consciousness when he managed to hit the scab on my forehead with his gun. I let go of him due to pain and then began to circle him to avoid being shot. This worked well enough until he took somebody hostage." "He took a hostage," Jones exclaimed, interrupting me yet again. This would take so much less time if you would shut up. "Yes," I nodded, "temporarily. I pretended to surrender momentarily, and said something to confuse him. I'm not sure exactly what I said, but he lowered his gun slightly. I darted forward pulling the hostage away and pushing him back into the counter. He slid to the ground, as I went to get the gun away from him he fired. I have no clue where the bullet went, but I wasn't hit. I managed to knock the gun out of his grip afterwards. He was about to go for it when we heard sirens. He tried to run, but I held onto him. He punched me in the stomach, that was just before you arrived. Y'all know the rest." I finished.
"Thank you. That is all," he turned off the audio recorded. "I hope you have a nice day. I must get going, a lot of witnesses." He shrugged headed for the door. "Have fun," I shut, locked and barred the door behind him. What to do now? More computer? Sure. I grabbed my soda off the table and headed upstairs.
(Yay an update. *sarcasm*)
