Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

12

12

I was six when Mom got Dad to very reluctantly take some time off from work and leave for a summer vacation to Florida.
She obviously did not plan it very well because we arrived in the midst a hurricane and were immediately ushered to a protection shelter. 

As they passive aggressively fought it out for the next three days, I sat listening to the howl in the wind. I would go to sleep with it, dream about it and wake up to its calling.
On the third day, everything went quiet. Nothing screeched outside the rough concrete walling us in. Nothing rustled. Nothing broke off and flew away, crashing in a distance. Nothing seeped through the tiny spaces and trickled down.
Everything went dead silent all at once. The storm was over.

I feel the same sort of empty when I walk into the classroom, and headfirst into the same mindless chatter of the classroom.

Officer Rhodes never came to school again. I never got called to the office for more questions. The lilies wilted and turned yellow, until finally they had them thrown away  because it made the floor and cabinets all mossy.

No one talks about him anymore. No one thinks he was unfortunate and that it was unfair. Harvey's parents had finally exhausted themselves. The legal proceedings came to a standstill, all at once.
They will be moving soon, I heard.

It was in lunch last day Anastasia told me Harvey's funeral is today. It was at that moment I knew the trail has gone cold.

We should never make promises when we care.

My lungs grapple for some air in the heavy stillness. I see Harvey's mother in a distance, her appearance even more shrunken than the last time. His father makes some attempts at greeting the few guests that walk through the modest graveyard gate.
There would be no eulogy and no priests addressing a sermon. My stomach twists at the misery.

A hand takes my hand. I look down to see Anastasia.
"Dad dropped me off," she says. I nod.
"Let's go and see Mrs. Pham." She tugs my arm. I take the cue and push her wheelchair.

We wheel over to her and I see the numerous sleepless teary nights in her eyes. I suddenly want Anastasia to rush it.

"Hello, Mrs. Pham. We are from Harvey's school. I'm really sorry for your loss," Anastasia says.
She tries her best to smile. "Thank you for coming."

The only other people from school to show up were the art class geeks.
Someone had saved the mural from school and now Mrs. Pham sits with it hugged tightly to her chest.
The casket is shut and lowered into the ground.
The earth is shoveled in and Harvey Pham is sealed away from the rest of the world forever.

I miss Anastasia almost as soon as I climb into the driver's seat. Lately, it feels like I spend all my time driving around town and more often than not she's there, bundled up and with her lousy laces undone.
  
I look over to the empty passenger's seat. Her father insisted on driving her today.

I always take the highway with the least amount of traffic. Ten minutes into making that turn, the car tailing right behind me sticks out like a sore thumb.

The black sedan has been behind me for a while now.

A cloud of panic starts to saturate in my stomach. My knuckles turn white. I honk. For no fucking reason at all.

A violent shove makes me bite into my tongue. A metallic viscosity fills my mouth. My car swerves. The bastard's tailed into me.

I grip my steering wheel and aimlessly turn it to keep from getting off the road when another shove kills the engine, only the seatbelt keeping me from flying through the screen.

The sedan pulls up right next to me as my shivering fingers strive to unbuckle my seatbelt.
Richard Baker steps out, a baseball bat slung casually over his shoulder. The blood turns cold in my veins.

"Heard you ratted me out, rich boy." He  reaches through the cracked window before I can pull the glass all the way up and grabs my collar and rips me out for my car. I swing at him. He grabs my fist before it can make contact and drives his knee into my ribs. I stagger away, spit spurts out of my mouth. I wipe it away and realize it is blood.

"Not over yet, Baxter."

He swings his bat at the back of my knee. Pain I never knew erupts in my leg and an animalistic shout escapes me. Without thinking, I punch him straight in the crotch. My fingers throb from the impact as he doubles over.

"Son of a bitch!" He shouts into the air.

I limp up and try to rip the bat out of his hand. I finally weasel it out of his iron grip and fling it as hard as I can away from him.

Richard Baker lays on a pool of his own puke as I cross over him, every step setting off a riot in my nerves. I watch him writhe in pain as I lock my doors and pull all the windows up.
I mutter a prayer when the engine finally roars back to life when I see him rise and move. I step on the metal like my life depends on it and the car shoots forward.

After a distance I see Richard Baker standing with his chest heaving, the shadow quickly receeding in the cloud of smoke and dust shrouding his face in mystery.

A/N: A lot of shit happened. Holy shit. For now, I'm done. The chapter is up. I'm sorry I was late.
This is just a filler. Stuff goes up from here. Thank you for being patient and supportive. We have come so far!