Buried Truths

Chapter 1

Authors Note: I'm really wanting to improve my writing, so please let me know what you think! 

The first time she noticed him, he was nestled into the darkest, farthest corner booth of the well-worn diner.

His hood was up, veiling most of his head save for the wispy strands of black hair falling into his face as he bent over the remains of his plate.

Mac tried not to stare at him as she went about her work. She really tried. But she couldn't help it. Her gaze kept drawing back to the dark mysterious figure as he hunched forward, his gaze solely trained down at his plate or out the window into the quiet street, illuminated only by a single streetlight.

As she had entered the diner to begin her shift, her gaze had immediately shot to the unfamiliar figure. He was a displacement in her constant, invariable routine; a hair out of place; a scratch on a vinyl record, causing it to skip and stutter; a misaligned puzzle piece that ruined the picture. Mac craved the familiar, loved knowing what to expect tomorrow, it was consistent and reliable.

The initial feeling that had charged through her was unease. His large figure had looked so dark and imposing, an unwelcome but familiar spike of fear had shot up her spine, which urged her to rush to the back kitchen before she could be seen. She had made a beeline to the employee bathroom, swiftly locking the door behind her, then leaned against it as she fought to control her hyperventilative breaths. Her panic attacks—though not as frequent—had been Mac's constant adversary for years.

She had been so tempted to call in sick to Dusty, the owner of Dusty's Diner, but knew that it was pointless, as he had probably already seen her arrive from the one security camera he had installed a month ago, due to his suspicions that someone has been breaking in and taking food. "If you're well enough to walk, you're well enough to work," he would say.

Mac had tried to distract herself by changing into her uniform, a light blue belle dress with a frilly white apron, and had taken some steadying deep breaths before unlocking the door to start her work day.

Mac observed the stranger from afar as she went about the diner attending to customers, not wanting to draw any of his attention. But after some time observing him, she noticed he seemed to have no interest in looking in anyone's direction, let alone hers. She studied his body language, deducing that his energy wasn't threatening per say, but akin to her own of not wanting to be noticed or disturbed.

"What a weirdo," Rae said as she sidled up next to her at the coffee machine. Mac was startled at her sudden presence, spilling some hot coffee meant for the mug she carried onto her hand instead. A quiet hiss escaped her teeth and she grabbed a rag to mop the spillage from the counter. Rae, who hadn't noticed, continued to scowl at the stranger that sat in her section.

Since her arrival, Mac had heard nonstop complaints from Rae about the man. That he was rude, a jerk, a weirdo. It wasn't new to hear Rae complaining about anything, but she noted there seemed to be an underlining emotion behind her biting words, an animosity that to Mac, was a bit strange from only a 30-minute encounter between a waitress and her customer. While Rae prattled on about how he had ignored her when she had asked him if he wanted dessert, Mac stole another glance while she spooned some sugar into the coffee. She didn't know why his presence was so conspicuous to her, how her eyes seemed to draw to his dark figure at every spare moment. What was it about this man that was so interesting? Was it because he was the first visitor to their small-town diner in over six months? Granted there weren't many people in their town and Mac knew every person by name, so having someone new to look at was refreshing, but even as she tried to justify her morbid curiosity, she felt a stirring within her heart that she hadn't felt in a long time.

She didn't know if it was a good feeling, or a bad one.

"Can you believe this?" Rae complained next to Mac as they began their sidework for the evening. The diner was almost completely empty, except for a certain mysterious customer that had not moved from that corner booth in nearly five hours. It was already nearing nine o'clock, which meant closing time, yet he continued to sit in the booth, nursing his fifth cup of tea as though he had all the time in the world. Rae had been royally peeved to say the least.

"It's like he's a caveman. 'Yes, no, more water...'" She imitated him using a gruff low voice. Mac had to chuckle silently to herself at seeing Rae get so worked up over this guy. She surmised that Rae had probably tried hitting on him in the beginning, maybe hoping to score a nice tip, but was disappointed to find him not only disinterested, but annoyed at her advances. Rejection was something Rae probably had little experience with. After all, there were only a few younger men in town, and she had been quite popular with them.

"He might just be introverted..." Mac said, surprising herself at how easily she defended the stranger.

Rae looked at her as though crabs were crawling out of her ears. "Girl, there is your kind of introverted, which is sweet and cute, and his kind—which is borderline sociopathic. He probably has a taxidermy collection or likes to drown kittens."

Mac rolled her eyes as she went about filling the salt and pepper shakers, but couldn't help sneaking another glance toward him. She let out a gasp of surprise as she saw his head was turned, already staring at her. Her arms jerked in surprise, spilling salt all over the counter and the floor.

"Mac!" Rae said in exasperation. "I just mopped the floor."

"Sorry! Sorry," Her eyes broke away as she observed the mess she had made. Her face flushed in embarrassment at being caught looking at him, so she tried to busy herself by grabbing a nearby trash bin, sweeping the scattered salt off the counter. She still hadn't gotten a good look at his face but could tell from his square jaw and set mouth that he was probably in his late 20's give or take a few years. He was probably handsome too, but she tried not to think about that and kept her head down as she felt his weighted stare on her.

She had felt herself slowly lower her guard throughout the evening shift as he appeared to not notice nor even care about her existence—which was exactly how she liked it. But now, with the shift in his focus, she felt her nerves flair up again at his attention and decided it would be best if she left as soon as possible. She swept the salt as quickly as she could and dumped it before turning to Rae.

"Would you mind me leaving a few minutes early?" She inwardly said a prayer that Rae would be generous to her today since Rae had asked to leave early almost every day they worked together, to which Mac was always too nice to say no.

"Sure, knock yourself out. It's not like I can go anywhere until he pays." She jerked her thumb in the man's direction, not trying to be subtle at all. She probably didn't even care so much about the tip at this point, she just wanted him gone.

"Thanks," Mac breathed out in relief and rushed to the back to change. Her hands shook slightly as she shrugged out of her dress and pulled on her jeans. Just calm down Mac, I'm sure he wasn't staring at you for any nefarious reason. He's probably just traveling and passing through, and it's not as though there is much else to look at in the diner; he was probably just bored. Get ahold of yourself.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, forcing the nerves out of her body. She needed to stop assuming every newcomer or curious glance was out to get her. It had been years, they probably had already forgotten about her.

But even as she walked out of the diner with her purse slung across her chest, clutched tightly in her hands, against her senses she turned to look back as she felt his eyes once again following her. A shiver rushed up her spine as she jerked her head back around and quickened her pace, disappearing into the dark night with one thought haunting her mind.

But HE hasn't forgotten about me.