Beautifully Broken

- 28 -

The club might not be the correct place to go, but the diner is about 6 miles east. I can feel myself physically brighten at the thought of seeing Ms. Justine. It's been so long. I remember when seeing her was my favorite part of the day. 

I begin trekking through the grass, excitement bubbling in my veins.

She'll be so happy to see me. Cole should buy the diner. Then Ms. Justine wouldn't have to work so hard. She's one of the few people that have been kind to me and I often wished she was my mother. 

I'm guessing it'll take 90 minutes to walk 6 miles.

A more than an hour passes and I still don't see the iconic green roof of the pretty diner. Even with taking the darkness into account, I should be able to at least see the outline. I see nothing.

Shit - did I go the wrong way?

I take in a sharp breath.

Did she have to sell if because I stopped working there? No, no. They wouldn't have torn it down. Perhaps the diner is a little farther than I thought. I groan at that thought. The small excitement I had distracted me from the growing pain in my stomach, but best believe its still there. 

And it doesn't like this nature walk too much

I pick up my pace. A sick feeling settles in my stomach. Somethings wrong. Something very wrong. I try my best to run, feeling vile in the back of my throat. The pain is nauseating. My eyelids feel heavy, yet I continue to run. 

The closer I come to where the building is supposed to be the more a blank square of concrete grows. 

What the hell?

If I hadn't known there was a building there prior to its destruction. I wouldn't have thought anything about the blank space. I stand in the middle of what used to be the kitchen. 

This wasn't a money issue. The air was thick.

It smells of barbeque, a charcoal-like whiff of gunpowder mixed with blood and burned flesh. It's a bitter smell. I swear I can feel the evaporated tears in the air. It overpowers everything.

I can taste it

It would be naive of me to think that this a standard kitchen fire. I've been held at gunpoint far too many times to believe that was the case.

Ms. Justine

I pray that she wasn't here. It's useless because I know she was. She never opened the diner without being there. She loves to socialize with the customers and bake her famous pies, but for a moment, I just hope maybe she got sick. Maybe she left to get some flour.

I don't know-  just-  God please let her have not been here.

She is the only pure thing left on this earth. I shouldn't be surprised. Just another one of my loved ones taken away from me. I should be used to it. In fact, I should expect it. 

"Damnit!" I screamed into the air. The trees echo me in a mocking way as if to say they saw it. As if they watched me walk all the way here, knowing what I'd see. 

The feeling of a tightened throat and heavy eyes is something I've come very accustomed to. My head whips back and forth. Looking for anything, looking for anyone. 

I should have stopped by the diner when I got out of my mom's house. I've been living in a penthouse for weeks. I've forgotten where I've come from. She must've thought the same thing. She must've thought I just stopped showing up to work. The thought makes me sick to my bullet held stomach. Her thinking that I've just passed her along. 

What's wrong with me? Why didn't I check up on her? 

Maybe if I'd come at the right time...

An object on my far right catches my attention. It's beyond the concrete settling in the grass. I move towards it. In utter disbelief:

"No way," The words slip out of my mouth, "They did not."

The object was a silver plate, in it was writing:

Victim - Female, around 60, no contact found.
Information known:
Justine

She deserved so much more, so much better. I place a kiss on the silver plate. I wanted to stay with her, but I know better. The people would come back. This was on their radar. 

And I've had my fair share of kidnapping already

I thought I'd come to terms with her death when I smelled the air. However, as I stood over the place where her delicate body might lay, I couldn't even bring myself to believe it. My brain can't make the connection that a woman that means so much to me, might be dead. 

It's not even the fact that she's dead - it's how she died. I've heard that fire is the worst way to die. The fact that a group of people came to this small diner and blew it up while people were still in it is too much to comprehend. 

All for what? Who could she'd possibly made mad?

It clicked, just then, it clicked. Ms. Justine didn't make anyone mad. 

I forcefully pull myself away from the makeshift grave. Having no idea where else to go, I continue walking east. My best bet is to just keep walking. 

I take a deep breath.

If I can still breathe, I'm fine