Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

1 3 ~ A n n a

                 

Flashback ~ December 29, 2010

The money is still in my hands. It's getting darker out, and I am on the road back to my house already. There are no houses near me, no shops, no witnesses. There are no phones for help, nobody to hear me scream. Just trees.

Trees and trees and nothing else.

I slip on the slick road, tumbling face first into the unbroken layer of ice that slides along the ground. It's like falling into a glass table, and I don't get up. A sharp sting rakes across my forehead and palms before the burning starts to spread.

I suck in a deep breath, coughing. Exercise was never my strongest area of expertise, except when I was little. I used to run for fun back then, not from criminals.

Pulling myself out of the ice, I shove the money in my pocket. I am such an idiot. Stealing money from a killer? Smart, Anna. Really smart.

But he might not be a killer, right? I tell myself this, but the truth is, I was there. I heard the gun shot. When I looked over my shoulder before I ran, when I saw the robber in the back room, he was the only one standing upright.

And then the thought struck me harder than my fall. If--when-- they reviewed the cameras, it would be my face on tape when they heard the gunshot. It would be me they saw taking the money with a guilty expression while the man was in the back. It would be me that they would want for the robbery. Maybe not for the murder, but it would look like...

...Like I was in on the whole thing.

It might be different if I had found a way to call for help, or even if I found a way to call right now, but no. Now I am running for my life. He can't be far behind now, not when he was so close when I bolted.

I press on and make my way to the trees subsiding the icy black road. The darkness here is more frightening, the deep threats lying in the shadows. I can't even see anything around me as I stumble into the branches, but I feel cold snow shaking off sharp branches and running down my back. Wet bark slides against my hands. The roots mix with the snow and reach out to trip me and pull me down.

Falling into a place covered by branches, against the base of a thick tree, my body gives in. I'm just at the edge of the tree line, concealed enough to be hidden but able to see the highway. I pull my knees up and hug them for warmth, keeping my eyes glued to the road, waiting. If I can't run, maybe I can hide.

I crouch there for what seems like forever, waiting to see him. Waiting to see if he would find me. If he was still chasing me, it wouldn't take him long.

By hiding, I thought I could throw him off my trail.

I was wrong.