Lady Luck

4

        I still remember the cold tile floor as I and all the other patrons of the bank laid on the floor, our hands on the back of our heads. Behind me I could hear the nice bank lady who'd offered me candy earlier while waiting for mom whimper as the scary man yelled at her, waving his shiny black gun in the air. Next to me, a nice man who'd been talking to my mom earlier was whispering in my ear, sweet words of reassurances only I could hear.

Anxiety and dread hung heavy in the air, but it all went over my little five-year-old head. I was a little scared by the mean man who was yelling and waving a gun, sure, but at the same time I didn't really understand what was going on. For all I knew, this was normal; I'd never been to the bank before that fateful day. My young age and innocence spared me the full terror experienced by the adults who could fully comprehend the situation at hand.

One of the most famous bank robbers in American history, John Dillinger, once told a teller, "These few dollars you lose here today are going to buy you stories to tell your children and great-grandchildren. This could be one of the big moments in your life; don't make it your last!" When I first read the quote, I couldn't help but note how true it rang. For most people, being involved in a bank robbery is the most exciting thing to happen in their life. At five years old, I already had one of the most exciting stories you could tell.

However, in my case, the story didn't end there. That was only the beginning.

Two years later, when I was seven, I was at the checkout at the grocery store with my mom when a drunk driver crashed his car through the window. Glass went flying everywhere, hitting nearly everyone in the front of the store. By then I'd lost just enough of my childhood innocence to comprehend how scary the situation was. When I saw all the blood on mom's face, I was sure that I was about to become an orphan.

But of course, I was wrong. The glass grazed her forehead, but she was fine. We didn't even go to the hospital, mom just drove home, took a shower and put some Toy Story band-aids over the cuts. After a couple days, she was good as new. Same went for everyone else who got hit by the glass. Sure, there was a bit of blood, but all the cuts were minor and healed up fast. Last I heard, the most serious one was a cashier who got a big gash on his arm, but even that didn't require stitches.

There was only one real exception in that case: me. It wasn't that I got deep cuts—I didn't get any cuts at all. I emerged from the incident shaken and crying, but totally unscathed. My safety almost defied logic. Mom didn't throw herself to shield me or anything, and I wasn't behind the cart or a counter. I was in the next lane all alone, sent by mom to pick up a magazine. Glass covered the floor around me, but not one shard hit me.

At the time, people told me it was like a miracle. Everyone was gushing over me, saying how lucky I was. Some of my parents' friends started calling me "Lady Luck" as a joke, and before long, more people started calling me that.

During a vacation when I was nine or ten, my family had to use a different hotel room one night due to the lock for our door breaking. That same night, we were woken by the fire alarm. I remember being so tired my dad had to carry me out, only really waking up when fire trucks arrived to deal with the blaze. The next day the manager told us a fire broke out in our room, and all of our stuff in there had been lost.

When I was eleven, we were driving over a bridge on an incredibly foggy morning when dad realized he couldn't see the headlights of the car in front of him and hit the breaks. When the mist cleared we saw the bridge had a giant hole in the center, with our car only inches away from the edge. Everyone else before us had driven right off the edge and into the water. No one survived.

Along with those incidents, at various points I was in the car when the cars right in front of us got into a fatal crash. Not once, not twice, but three times. Three separate occasions, I saw metallic death unfold right in front of my eyes. And one time, I even got caught in a car crash first-hand. One day during a field trip a drunk driver plowed into the school bus, making it turn over. Thankfully no one died, but a couple of kids had to be hospitalized and most of the students got injured—everyone but me.

Over the years, I've inexplicably gotten caught up in tragedy after tragedy. Bank robberies, regular robberies, car accidents or fires—I've experienced almost every incredible story you can imagine. And every single time, I emerge perfectly unscathed. Even I understood just how eerie the whole thing was. It was as if I was bad luck of some sort—looking back, I'm surprised no one called me "Jinx" in school and avoided me.

Instead, I was known as "Lady Luck".

"Over time, I guess I got used to everything," I explained softly, staring out the window at the empty street below. "I grew desensitized. I see all kinds of bad stuff, but... I always get out just fine. So... my instincts started dulling, I guess. It warped my sense of danger, and now, it's just kinda... gone." Giving a small, feeble shrug, my gaze then fell to the floor.

"...Then about two months ago, I started thinking it over. I noticed that while I always came out safe and sound... others didn't. I've always noticed that, but... for some odd reason, a couple months ago it just really started eating me up, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Everyone called me 'Lady Luck', but deep down, I felt more like a jinx or a curse. So one night, I just... I just packed everything up and left. Just like that. And I've been on the road ever since."

With that I fell silent, as did the hooded man. For once, I didn't find his silence out of place. My story is pretty unbelievable, after all. Even I would have trouble believing it if it didn't happen to me—hell, I do have trouble sometimes. Just listening to myself talk about it, even as the memories flashed through my mind... It sounded like I was just making it all up. I had no idea why I'd bothered telling this guy at all.

As I mulled over all of this, he finally spoke, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "...I see..." I glanced at him in surprise, frowning slightly.

"Huh? What do you mean...?" He just shrugged at my puzzled expression.

"It sounds crazy, but I believe you." Immediately my jaw dropped, my eyes widening.

"You... you actually... believe...?" I trailed off, staring at him in shock. The hooded guy just shrugged, though, lying back once more.

"I've seen some pretty unbelievable stuff myself, so I'm not one to judge."

"Unbelievable stuff? Like what?" Of course he fell silent again, glancing to the side.

"...I can't say."

"What?" I frowned. "Hey, no fair! I told you my story, now you tell me yours!" However, he just shook his head, looking away from me.

"No way. You don't want to hear it."

"Yes I do!" Naturally, I was getting pretty irritated at this point. Here I was, having just basically shared my life's story, and now he wouldn't tell me his own? Not exactly a fair exchange. Frowning, I stamped my foot and crossed my arms. "Look, Mr. Hooded Man, I could have left you to die! I didn't have to save you, I—"

"Hoody." I froze at his voice, surprised.

"...What?"

"Hoody," he repeated, not looking at me. "That's my name." I just stared at him in disbelief and confusion. Hoody? What kind of name was that?

"...Is that, like, your nickname...?" I muttered, frowning.

"Kind of." He shrugged. "I don't use my real name anymore. Some people took to calling me that. It fits. Beats being nameless, I guess."

"Nameless?" Sighing, he finally turned to look at me, the red eyes of his mask seeming to pierce right through me.

"You say you felt like a jinx. Believe me, you don't know the half of it. You have your sob story, I have mine. At least you ran away before it got bad. Almost everyone I know is either dead or going crazy. No one is safe." I stared at him in shock, my eyes widening.

"Wh-what?" I whispered, but before he could respond a burst of static suddenly filled my mind. Crying out, I fell to the ground clutching at my head, my vision filling with spots. The last thing I saw was Hoody slowly walking towards me, and then my world went black.