Always Thinking

Judge, Jury, and the Executioners (Part 1)

A day passed. Then a week. Then two weeks. Her life went on as it had before: wake up, go to school, walk to the diner, finish homework, wait tables, and close the diner. There were always those small instances though, when his scared eyes would flash in her thoughts. Momentarily she would once again appeal to her closed thoughts. More often than not, she would try to imagine what he would have looked like without those devilish bruises or a bloody shirt. She often wondered if she would ever see him again.

He never said "thank you" or "goodbye," not that she blamed him. Her mom had nearly ran out of the diner with him. They didn't talk about it at all after that. Eventually, on that night her mom had come back to the diner to lock up. Amber was still cleaning blood stains when Ellen told her she had fifteen minutes. Amber knew not to question the woman, so she finished and they had a silent car ride home.

It was nearly three weeks later, and her hopeful thoughts finally ceased. The diner was quiet for a Saturday. Several couples sat down, chattering in booths over their warm meals. Amber stood watching from behind the bar, picking up on several different conversations from all around her. She didn't notice the tall figure facing away from her and towards the wall until her mother yelled, "Amber, get that man a booth!" in a husky tone. Amber moved quickly, jogging to the front door where the signs clearly read "Please Wait to Be Seated" in big white letters.

"Sorry for the wait," she smiled, "How many?" He turned around.

"Just one." Without the bruises and blood she barely recognized him, now in the mended leather jacket and clean blue jeans. Amber realized she could finally stop wondering if he would come back. Finally! Then in an instant, with a flash of a smile and blink of those hay eyes, they broke through the dam. He looked down at her and bit his bottom lip, a nervous gesture, while she couldn't help but smile at seeing him. Him, not a bloody him, but him.

"Hi," she awkwardly said.

"Hi," his head gave a slight nod and he reached his hand to the back of his neck.

She snapped out of her childish gaze, "Yeah, sorry! This way." Gingerly, she moved to grab a menu and bring him to a booth in her section of the tables. "So...how are you?" she mumbled.

His quiet gaze answered her question. It was a look she herself had developed over time, and it took a broken soul to know one, and she knew not to ask anything else. He sat down in the booth, offering a toothless smile as her cue to go. So she sat next to him instead. "What happened to you that day?" She felt him tense up next to her.

"Just a bunch of bullies," he quickly responded.

"No, Adam, bullies don't do that! They shove you in lockers and knock your books out of your hand! They don't beat people half to death," She attempted to keep her voice between them.

"I don't want to talk about it," he admitted, "I've got to go."

---I'd like to thank the Cupcake Sisters, their charming blond of a brother, and their other handsome brother for editing! More to be updated within the next few days!---