Two Years

6.) Shawn's Flashback

Two years ago:

The sky was practically black. The only light illuminating the school grounds was produced by the crescent shaped moon and four meager street lanterns. A light snowfall had begun, making it increasingly difficult to see a distance of over ten feet. The location was a large parking lot, and the thin layer of white powder that had accumulated on the ground made it appear even more vast. There were only a few vehicles parked there that night.

It was almost a week after the murder of Lena Dixon, and the town had been thrown into a state of emergency. Bright attention-grabbing posters with large inky letters were scattered or posted on every corner.

"Justice for Lena Dixon! Find Dixon's killer!" several of them read.

The kids had never witnessed anything quite like the chaos and panic in town that ensued as a result of the murder. A couple of weeks earlier, a mere shoplifter was enough to snag the front page of the local paper, but after the first murder the news was inescapable, and nearly suffocating.

The first precaution taken by the town was announced earlier that day. All classes suspended indefinitely. While the school may have been closed, the workout room was still open for use, which despite the dire circumstances, multiple boys still took advantage of.

"I guess if we come here intentionally than the school isn't liable if we get murdered." Ryan had said to the group earlier in the day.

As Shawn walked out of the school gym, he felt goosebumps trickle up his arms. With every step he took towards his beloved red pick up, a feeling of uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. The walk was only a few hundred feet, but in darkness under the eerie glow of the moon, it felt as though it were miles. The murders had put Shawn on edge, of course, but this was the first occasion where he found himself genuinely afraid.

Thump. Thump. Crunch.

The blonde boy's heart raced. He swore that he heard the crunch of footsteps on the snow covered pavement behind him, but every time he stopped to listen, the only sounds he could register were those of the light wind and his own quick shallow breaths. He made his way forward again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Crunch.

"What the hell is that?"

Shawn stopped again. He was still about two hundred feet away from his car, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was nearby.

"Do what mom taught you. Do the thing mom taught you."

When he was a child, Shawn was lovingly dubbed, a "ball of stress" by his family and teachers. He worried about everything, always. To ease this anxiety, his mother gave him a trick to help calm himself down. As he put one foot ahead of the other, he took a deep breath, and began to count slowly.

One. Two three.

Thump. Thump. Crunch.

His pace quickened.

Four. Five. Six.

Thump. Thump. Crunch.

Shawn's pace had changed from a saunter to a jog, and footsteps could be heard again from behind him, and he knew he wasn't alone.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Suddenly, Shawn took off towards his car, sprinting like a madman. The wind began to pick up, and the cold air stung his face, like it was slapping him back and forth. He could hardly breathe, and every second of running that passed felt like an eternity. Every time Shawn sped up, so did the footsteps charging behind him. The blonde boy attempted to let out a harrowing scream, but all that came out was a nearly silent wheeze. He tried again. Nothing.