Captivate, Capture, Conserve

Cold (Prolouge)

I let out a soft sigh, pushing back a dark tendril of hair that had once again escaped my bun. Whilst my eyes glanced over to the pot of steaming coffee in want.

   I had been working a late shift at "Joe's Dinner" for hours now. My back ached, as did my feet from walking in my worn down knock-off converse.

  I could feel my feet press deep down into the sole. That was yet another thing I needed to replace. If I had left over money from this week's paycheck, that is.

I needed the simple slip of paper so badly. It was as if my whole life depended on it — which ironically did.

Another bell rang, and I saw two kids' youthful feet prance up and down near the counter. Their feeble hands holding onto the hard, smooth material of the counter top until their knuckles turned white.

How jealous I was.

   I could see a smiling couple stand behind them - a small family of four, I assumed. A boy, around 7 and a girl around 9, I'd say.

They looked so happy, and I couldn't explained how much I ached for that. You see, I came from an orphanage. My "mother" had dropped me off on a cold night — blah, blah, blah, blah. Typical story of a Highschool couple gone wrong.

I couldn't say I wasn't "blessed" though. At least I had my crappy two room apartment. If one could even say that.

Shaking my head and trying to get out of my dozing off state, I put on a fake smile. More smiles, happy customers, happy customers - meant higher tips. Depending on how well I could act like I had a 5 foot tall stick up my ass would determine whether I had dinner of my own tonight or not. So, with quick steps - my tired feet slugged me over to the counter space.

"Hi! What can I getcha?" I asked, in a faux Louisianan accent. People always paid better if they thought you were from around here. I learned that the hard way at first. You see - I was born in New York, but that's a complicated long story for another time. Their order, along with many others, passed in a blur that night. I just wished I had payed more attention to the customer in blue, who had an eerie sense to him. But no, I didn't, and I would pay the price later on.

When the clock struck 3, signaling it was the end of my shift, I mentally smiled. Finally. I head out to my car with a shiver.

   Some might not have assumed it would be this cold in the south, but
it was winter and I felt I was about to freeze my damn ass off.

I struggled to twist the key through the hole on my beaten down Honda. It never seemed to be wanting to work. The same customer from blue noticed this — and offered what seemed a cheerful smile. If only my eyes could have seen the way his hand curled around the hilt of that knife the way one would to a gaming controller.

Being in the exhausted state of mind I was in, I accepted when he asked if I needed help. His cold, rough looking hands grasped the metal of the keys and shifted it through the hole. I could have sworn I'd seen blood caked under his nails, though I'd brushed it off.

That was one of the many mistakes I had made that night.

Before I could thank this stranger, when my car door opened with an audible squeak — I felt small pressure against my neck. A blade kissing the cold skin against it. A quiet warning was whispered into my ear, though I didn't remember much of it due to the harsh blow I received to my head quickly after.