Blind Eyes

Chapter Eight

When I wake up the next morning, it is still raining, and I am still in pain. I have slept in this morning for a much longer time than I normally do and it is almost noon when I wake up. I am relieved because it is Saturday, so I do not have work. I wonder what I will spend my day doing; there is not much to do in this town. Maybe I will cook dinner for my father and I tonight.

I roll out of bed slowly and examine my injuries. Both my foot and shoulder are still swollen, and still hurt. My stomach is just starting to scab and so is my thigh. I pick out a dress that hides everything so that I do not have to be worried about what others may think.

When I walk out of my bedroom, I see that my father is not in his bedroom and not in the kitchen either; he must have gone to work. He usually never works on the weekends, but I suppose that he wants to distract himself from my mother. The house feels bleak, and dark, so I decide to go into town and find some lunch even though it is raining. I take an umbrella and my coat from the coat hanger in front of the door and walk outside, pushing open the umbrella above my head.

It is not raining violently, but there is a steady stream of rain that splatters onto the black fabric of my umbrella. It is quite cool outside, with a breeze that pushes my hair back from my face. I walk through the street, my steps sloshing water from puddles onto my boots. As I turn onto the main street, I spot the bakery and decide to go there. It is lit cozily inside, contrasting the dim grey of the outside world. I think about getting some hot soup and a sandwich, two things which sound like a very good idea.

I walk up to the door of the bakery and reach out my hand to pull it open, but before my hand reaches the handle, another hand, paler than mine, reaches from behind and pulls the door open, the bell ringing. I do not have to look behind me to know it is; I shouldn't have expected to be able to go into town without seeing him.

I wordlessly enter the bakery, and Will follows behind. It is busy inside, and almost all of the tables are full, the smell of coffee and cinnamon filling the air. I want nothing more than to be alone right now, to just eat and watch other people talk with each other. That is something I love to do; I like to be by myself and listen to the conversations of others, conversations that give me a taste of another life.

As we get in line behind an elderly man who stands besides his wife, I look around at the other people in here who are taking shelter from the rain. I recognize all of them from around town, and I am sure that they recognize me as well. I wonder what they think when they see Will; I wonder how a person as terrible as him can walk around freely, paying no consequences.

After the couple in front of us order the food, I start to step up to the worker, but Will cuts in front of me. From where I stand behind him, I see him smile warmly at the worker.

"Good morning," Will says.

"Good morning. What can I get you today?" the worker asks.

"I'll have a small soup and the chicken sandwich please," Will says, taking money out of his pocket.

The worker takes the money from him and gives him change. Will turns around and walks over to the counter where the food is served, his hand pulling me behind him. While we wait for our food, he turns to look at me.

"That was the food you wanted, am I correct?" he asks.

I nod my head slowly.

"How did you know that?" I say, asking even though I know he won't give me a clear answer. "Can you read my mind too?"

He laughs, seeming genuinely amused. "I cannot read your mind Lara. I have told you before, that we are very similar, and I know you better than you think I do."