Scapegoat

 The strong bitter aroma of ground coffee beans drifted in the air, soaking into my clothes as I made my way to a table by the grimy window that looked out into an equalling grimy street. The street was crawling with people, arms full of shopping bags and kids on bikes zooming by. The usual gentle murmur of voices could be heard above the harsh stomach churning sound of the coffee machine as it struggled to produce the hot steaming liquid; the grating voice of Marshall pulled me out of my daze.

“I’m guessing mocha to go and one large tip for the attractive waiter.” Marshall looked down at me with gleaming green eyes, his white apron tied around his waist was covered in what I assumed to be powder and his dark hair was dusted with cinnamon. I reached my hand up and brushed the small particles off.

“I think I’ll eat in today.” I smiled at him, bringing out his own perfect smile. It almost reached his ears; he winked at me before going off to make my order. I loved the atmosphere of a coffee shop, there were people around but it wasn’t busy or too loud. It was peaceful as everyone socialised and I could have time to myself, to ponder about things.

It wasn’t long before Marshall came back with my coffee and placed himself on the stool in front of me. He brushed his hair out of his face and took a sip of my drink, burning his lip. He flinched and covered his mouth.

“You idiot, come here.” I took some ice from the container next to me and placed it to his lip. “Hold that there and wait until it goes numb.” I laughed as Marshall held the ice to his lip, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Your hair is so long now, Kali.” Marshall tugged on a dark coffee strand as he gazed at it curiously. We had been friends since I was four years old, fourteen years later and he’s still my best friend. I looked down at my watch, noticing the time.

“I really have to go, I’ll call you later.” It was already five and I would have to cook dinner soon so I quickly downed my coffee, hugged Marshall and walked out the shop.

I was waiting outside my house, the building looked empty. I should probably keep the lights on next time; I don’t want people to suspect anything. I walked away from my house, and headed for the local park.

I had always had a problem and things like this made me feel like I was insane. Ever since I was a little girl I always believed in spooky and dark things, it's why I love horror movies but it eventually drove me insane. The fact that it was all false and how the one thing I wanted would never happen I would cry myself to sleep most nights and sometimes still do. Then I met Marshall and he was my distraction, a way to get back to the real world and he saved my sanity. Counselling never worked, therapy, nothing, just Marshall. I still spend hours gazing at the moon sometimes, just to have a brief moment in that place again, just to feel the pain of what it was like to believe that stuff. Now I’m better, I’m physically and mentally healed, I actually think all of that stuff is Ludacris and I can't understand how I could be so idiotic.

It was dark and misty in the park, not dark enough for foxes to appear though. I loved the night time and the way everything changed within hours. Everything was covered in snow, the abnormal weather made me shiver; it didn’t snow here, not even in winter. The only lights were the street lamps, blinking from time to time and those of the busy city. The only sounds were those of the cars rushing past and a frightening dog howl. Lots of birds were settled on the old fountain, like dark shadows stalking my every move. The small lake nearby was covered with sparkling and glittering ice. The street lamp suddenly popped, removing the only light near me. A dead silence finished the moment. The lamp blinked and I could hear quiet music from someone’s car, making the atmosphere eerie and unnerving. In the distance I spotted a dark figure of a man, who seemed to be getting closer and closer.

The lamp blinked.

 The figure was gone, was anyone even there?

I spun around as I felt someone touch my shoulder. I was greeted by a tall and lean man who had his hands raised above his head.

“I’m sorry I was going to ask you when the next stop was.” The man looked at me with wide eyes, I scanned the area. I was standing at a bus stop and it was almost nine.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there. I think they’ve all been.” I tried to hide my worry and stress. The man had brown, well groomed hair that looked like something out a boy band. I never took to that kind of style. Squinting blue eyes, set far within their sockets, watched me as if they were desperate. This was a face that was captivating and something inside me wanted to touch it, of course I didn’t. There was something very intriguing about him; perhaps it was his decency or perhaps the mysterious air about him.

“Oh, that’s fine. I can call a cab.” I looked at him, cocking my head to the side.

“Are you from America?” He pulled out his phone and dialled a number.

“Yes, but I moved here when I was young. If you wondered why I didn’t have an accent.” He winked at me and held the phone to his ear. A few minutes later a taxi arrived in front of us.

He stood up and opened the door to the cab, he glanced back at me.

“Ladies first” He still held the door open as I walked over and clambered into the taxi. As the door closed and the man climbed in beside me I buckled up my seatbelt, the distinct smell of stale cigarettes from previous passengers wafted up my nose. The driver turned on the radio to a quiet whisper and turned on the engine. I looked out the window as the car drove out of the bus stop and onto the road. I looked over at the man next to me. He was staring right at me.

“What’s your name?” The man looked at me sweetly, his smile slightly lifting at one side.

“Damien, what’s yours?” Should I tell him, I wasn’t going to see him again?

I turned my head away and looked out the window again; he didn’t argue but instead crossed his arms and looked away. Cascading raindrops fled down the window, past the raindrops were a blur of trees and buildings. I watched as we came to a stop, outside my house.

“You know where I live?” I stepped out of the car and looked back at Damien, who wasn’t there.