Way Down We Go

Chapter 2

Rory was having a hard time moving the next day. She was sore from being slammed into the car, and her chest was burning - she guessed it was from breathing in smoke from the burning van. She knew she'd have to go to the doctor, but that would involve having to explain what had happened, and until she could come up with a reasonable explanation, she didn't want to deal with it. If she could've come up with a way to block it out of her mind, she would have but it wasn't that easy. When she closed her eyes, the blue light seemed to be waiting for her. She was afraid to even blink.

Carl had been watching her warily all day; she had been aware of it since she first came in with bags under her eyes and he'd asked if she wanted to go home. She wasn't sure she wanted to be at the store, but she did know was that she was a lot better off moving around rather than being curled in a ball on the couch reliving the previous night. She could still feel the weight of that little kid in her arms, remembering the sensation of him as he...as he...

No. She wouldn't think about it. She couldn't think about it. Instead, she attempted to overcompensate, smiling more than usual, being extra polite to the overly loud and obnoxious group of teenagers that had taken refuge in the manga section, making sure everything was spotless and in the right place, not letting herself rest. It was only when there was a lull and she was dusting the shelves that she finally acknowledged Carl staring down at her.

"What's up?" She said, not looking up.

"You okay?"

"Fine," She replied, focusing on the dust in the far corner of the shelf, trying to get every particle of it out with her cloth.

"What happened to your arm?" He asked.

"What?"

"There's a bruise on your arm. And a cut along your neck. Did something happen last night?"

"No," She said stiffly.

"Rory. Stop." He said softly. She paused, and put the books back on the shelf where she had been dusting, but still didn't look at him.

"I saw your car."

"Why did you look at my car?"

"I saw in the newspaper there was an accident last night."

"You still get the newspaper?" She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"So you were in the accident?"

"Yeah, it, it wasn't a big deal, that van just spun out and hit me."

"You were in there when it was hit?!"

"It's not a big deal, okay?" She didn't mean to sound cold, but she knew she did.

"Rory, if you're hurt, you shouldn't be here."

"No, I-"

"I'm assuming you didn't go to a doctor or hospital, or anything?"

"No." She looked at the floor. She didn't want him to ask why.

"Well, call now."

"Carl--"

She could feel his eyes on her, as though they were burning into the top of her skull, stopping her fight. "You rest up for a couple days, okay? Get some sleep. Take care of yourself. When you're ready to come back, you give me a call. Okay?"

"Okay." She handed him the cloth and headed off to the break room to grab her bag.

She winced when she saw the massive dent in the side of the car. She was opening the door when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She whipped around, looking all around her, but saw nothing and climbed into her vehicle. She sat in the car, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. It was nothing, she told herself; her nerves were just on end. She needed sleep. But the thought of going home immediately wasn't a happy one. She looked down at the bruise Carl had pointed out and clenched her teeth.