Blackout Girl

Chapter 2 - My Old Friend

As soon as my brain caught up with the situation, I raised my knee and sent it flying just below his jolly belly. He groaned and sunk into me, crushing me against the wall with his weight. He didn't drop me, like I had hoped for, but I caused him a great deal of pain and that gave me a burst of energy. I trashed around with more vigor, hitting and scratching. Anything to get him off me.

"Stop it!" With a growl, the thief got into my face. He was so close that his long, white beard tickled my chin.

I was about to send my knee to another trip when I felt a poke to my side. I grew still, knowing that it was either a gun or a knife that was digging into my side. Unconsciously, I shifted away from it, but the object followed, now digging into me more. The sharp point that pierced through my coat could only belong to a knife. I took a shaky breath and sucked in my stomach, as if that was going to help me.

"Please, I won't say a word," I pleaded. My eyes begged him not to hurt me as the fear wrapped around my throat like a snake, squeezing to the point that I almost stopped breathing.

"Don't move," he ordered.

I watched him with caution as he created some space between us and glanced down. As I was gawking at him, I noticed three red scratches on his right cheek. The knowledge that I could do some damage brought me comfort, but it was short-lived. He released my forearm and snatched the Press ID that still hung around my neck.

"Frankie Petrovic," he read and my stomach dropped. All the alarms in my head were ringing, catching direction in which the conversation was heading.

He looked back at me and smiled. His smile might have had looked normal in daylight, but obscured by shadows it seemed utterly disturbing. Crooked and demented, with his fake beard in disarray, partially covering one side of his smile. It sent chills down my spine. He startled me even more when he ripped the ID off my neck. "Keep your mouth shut. Don't talk to the police. Got it?"

I was quick to nod as he pocketed my Press ID.

"Remember," he said, bringing his knife to my face to caress my cheek with its sharp, cold edge, "I know where to find you."

Very slowly, he stepped away from me. And even though I could only see his silhouette in the dark hallway, I knew he was looking at me as he retreated, creating more and more distance between us. When he turned the corner and I couldn't see him anymore I listened to his fading footsteps. Then I heard the engine of the van and the sound of them driving away.

I spent a moment just listening to the silence, before my knees decided to quit on me. I sank down, sliding against the wall, until I hit the floor. I hugged my knees and dropped my head against them. I squeezed my body with all my strength, trying to force the trembling away. I counted to ten, over and over again, until my heart returned to its steady rhythm.

When I felt strong enough for it, I carefully stood up. Placing one hand on the wall for support, I made my way outside. The front door was left wide open and I stumbled out, greedily taking deep breaths of fresh air.

On my way to my car, I tripped over my own feet and fell into the snow on my hands and knees. Brushing the snow from my hands, I noticed something shinny in the snow. It seemed that I actually tripped over something that the thieves dropped in their hurry to get away. I dug around, pushing the snow out of the way, and found a Rolex, gold pen, and a nondescript black notebook.

Taking no interest in it, I left it there and got up. I grabbed the handle of my car and pulled it, but I only stumbled backwards. The doors were locked and my keys were in the briefcase.

I looked back at the house with a sigh. Sometime, during my tag game with Santa, I had dropped my phone too.

I was back in the house, on all fours, blindly feeling around for my stuff in thick dark when I heard the wail of police sirens. Sure, now you show up.