Baby Teeth

Prologue

October 29, 2014; Wednesday.

"Matt, your shift is over. Go home."

I look at Jesse, my boss, from around the stack of boxes in my arms. "Yeah, I'm almost finished."

"You said that an hour ago." Jesse frowns and checks his watch. "I have to lock up now. Get your ass out of here."

"I'll be done in a minute." I assure him while walking towards the back of the record store.

"Not one second more!"

I quickly shove my stack of boxes in an empty corner, then I turn and grab my jacket from a hook on the wall. I shrug it on over my shoulders as I walk out to look for Jesse. I find him crouched over the cash register, hastily pushing his long sandy brown hair from his eyes with a sour expression.

Jesse isn't that old - early forties, maybe - but you wouldn't know from looking at him. With wrinkles permanently etched into his forehead and his quickly greying hair, you would expect him to be nearing retirement. Jesse has been running this place since his father died, nearly twenty years ago. This dusty old record store has been in his family since the sixties, passed on from generation to generation, still stocked with records long past their fifteen minutes of fame. Even now, nearing bankruptcy, Jesse isn't ready to give up on the family legacy.

"My car is out back, I'm using the back door." I declare as I fish my keys out of my pocket. Jesse doesn't look up from his huddled position.

"Don't forget to lock it on your way out."

I mutter an agreement before jogging through the deserted store.

Lately, I have been working a lot of overtime in attempt to make a bit of extra money. I live by myself in a small apartment, without the financial or emotional aid of my parents, who couldn't care less about me. Ever since they divorced four years ago, they haven't treated me the same. My dad quickly became an abusive alcoholic, and my mother wanted nothing to do with me, claiming I reminded her too much of my father. Needless to say, I moved out as soon as I graduated high school.

I moved a few cities away from home to attend university so that I could start fresh, start over. So far, no one from my past life has tried to contact me. I had never made any lasting friendships, so it wasn't hard to cut off all ties and drift away.

Currently, just under half way through my first semester of university, I have just as many friends as I had back home - a whopping total of zero. The closest I have to friends are my coworkers and the people in my classes that I occasionally borrow pens from.

It's not like I'm ever bored. Between school, work, and worrying about my future, I keep busy.

As I push through the back door, I feel the chill of the cold frosty wind biting at my exposed skin. Nervous from the lack of light, I quickly lock the door before turning my back and walking briskly down the long alleyway towards my cheap, piece of crap, rust-bucket of a car.

I push up my left sleeve and check my watch, cursing. How is it already eleven o'clock? Time must have gotten away from me when I was re-shelving records and CDs from the back of the store, which is closed to customers at ten. As boring as it sounds, I actually enjoy working there.

I increase my pace as the hairs on the back of my neck begin to bristle. No matter how many times I tell myself I'm being paraniod, I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched.

It's probably just a stray dog, I attempt to comfort myself, not sounding as confident as I would have hoped. They hang out by the dumpsters all the time. Stop being such a little bitch.