Six Months Later
I stared at myself in the mirror. The past six months have haunted me. It has made me paranoid. I have to constantly look over my shoulder. I feel hunted and I can see it in my eyes. The story they have seen so far. I stared at my dark green eyes, forcing myself to wake up completely as I fiddled around on the bathroom sink.
I carefully added the contact lenses, one by one, making my eyes brown. Blinking profusely until the irritation dissipated before brushing my now blonde hair. I looked at my reflection, eyeing off the regrowth. I want my life back. I want to be myself. Not hide. But being myself is also a form of being a coward and to be scared of every noise that startles me. I don't want that. I don't exactly want the life I use to have before Europe. I was timid even then. A lonely girl, an only child, growing up in a household of neglect, feeling unwanted and unloved. That has morphed me. I don't want that, I want freedom. I want to smile and laugh, meet people, hopefully gain a boyfriend or two through my life, fall in love and have what I see many people have now.
But I can't have that. Not anymore.
Sighing, I made my way out of the small bathroom to the kitchen in my tiny unit. Witness protection sucks and I can't do much about it, I had no say over it. It is just a precaution to be sure no one comes for me back on my own homeland. It was high alert for two months, staying at the Embassy then another month back in Australia.
I had uprooted myself completely and not by will as I was placed in a state I'm not from, a city unknown to me. After a while, I was allowed to leave my isolation, get a job or go to Uni, gain some mental sanity even. So, I got a job in a little family-owned restaurant and the owner is lovely. A sixty something year old widower with a couple kids scattered around with their own families. They come together once a month for large family dinners. It is a sight I've witnessed and its so warming to the heart. How he cherishes his children, his grandchildren. The laughter that fills the restaurant is contagious and the only emotion that anyone can feel is content. All my fears, my worries, gone. A feeling I welcomed with open arms.
Sighing, bringing myself back to this reality, I turned the kettle on and while I waited, I checked the temperature for the day. A top of 35 degrees. Right shorts it is. I got dressed in black shorts and a black v neck top and pulled on my socks just as the kettle finished. I made myself a coffee and slowly drunk it as I pinned my hair up off my neck. Todays morning temperature is already starting to spike, the warm air felt cold for a brief second as I lifted my hair. A very thin layer of sweat had already lined my skin.
Being in witness protection isn't all that bad but it still sucks. I don't have anyone I particularly call family and I was an isolated person at school and still am. I don't have anyone close to me and even if I'm killed, lord forbid, I know I won't be missed. My father is a drunk and wouldn't even comprehend it if told.
Protection has been light lately as planned, I know I'm still being watched, but not as heavy as I once was. I had a meeting with an agent from Rome, someone working on the whole Ricci case after my shift today and I am nervous as anything. I don't know if there will be any good news or bad news, or if there is anything at all. But it is definitely about at least one thing. A testimony.
I don't want to testify. I want to move on with my life. I want to keep my life. Every authority figure I spoke to basically pleaded with me to testify, but that means going back to Italy. I don't want to go back to Italy. I don't want to relive those days, I do every night in my nightmares, can that not be enough? Can I not be left alone with my deteriorating mental health and my inner darkness that narrates my life?
I finished my coffee and slipped on my shoes before finishing my morning routine of brushing my teeth and perfuming myself. Throwing keys into my bag, I snatched its handle and walked out the door and down the stairs to the entry of the units that I live in.
"Good morning Miss Galloway." The door man Nick greeted me as he sat on his stool, his eyes pretending to read the pages in his book. I'm pretty sure he was been stuck on that page for months now.
"Nick." I returned the gesture. I stepped outside and turned left, heading to the bus stop. I waited with everyone else for the bus, seeing the familiar figure standing behind me in the reflection of the glass wall at the bus stop.
I groaned and rolled my eyes, my shoulders slumping a bit. Leonard was on today. Nick let's Leonard know when I leave, Leonard follows me till I return home. If it's not Leonard, it's Jeremy. The bus pulled up and I waited patiently until it was my turn to get on and I tapped my card on the reader, paying my fare, before finding an empty seat. Immediately sitting down, I plugged in my earphones and turned on the music on my phone as I stared out the window. Leonard got on and went to a few rows behind me and sat.
It was our daily boring dance. I sighed then pouted, tapping my fingers on my knees to the beat of the music, watching the bus I was in pass the buildings and people and other cars. Five stops later, I jumped off the bus, Leonard behind me as I went around the corner to work. I stepped into the little restaurant, knowing Leonard will too, his partner in the suspicious (well, to me it is) black car parked out the front.
"Eight hour shift today, Lenny." I shouted over my shoulder at Leonard as he sat in his usual booth. He let out a small nod as he unfolded a newspaper, ready to settle in for my shift.
"Char, good morning." Paps came out, smiling as he wiped his hands on his white apron.
"Morning Paps." I sung cheerfully at him as I placed on my white apron and went to the little coffee machine. I started it up and once the water boiled, I froth the milk and made Leonard his usual coffee for the hour.
Hopefully, this whole protection thing can finish soon. I know you are meant to hide in protection but staring at the same four walls can drive a person slightly batty, which in my case is literal. So far, there has been no reports of my life being in danger, no sightings of suspicious people loitering near me besides my apparent bodyguards.
"There ya go, Leonard. One cappuccino, no chocolate sprinkles, four artificial sugar packs and a side of pecan pie." I grinned at the man, placing the china down on the table. "Biggest slice too."
"Thanks, Char."
Leonard and Jeremy don't know my actual name, Charlotte Maria Pruitt. They only know me as Charley or Char Anastasia Galloway.
I made my way to the counter, getting the supplies ready for the customers. I'm a completely different person to what I was six months ago. I was timid but adventurous, brunette and a bit chubbier than now.
Now I'm skinnier from all the stress, hunted like I stated before, box dye blonde. I'm still adventurous but I'm not that shy young lady completely. Yes, I'm nervous as all hell but I am slowly climbing out of my shell It took a lot of courage for me to start to bring this side of me out, but I do try it and I'm glad I did. Instead of bitching about someone in my head I just say it loudly. But I am still scared for my life. Who wouldn't be?
After my shift finished, my apron gone and Leonard was feed and stuffed, I stepped out of the restaurant into the busy street. It was just hitting four in the afternoon and instead of catching the bus back home to my tiny apartment, I went with Leonard and his partner, Rick, to the meeting point.
An old house, once a residential building, done up to what is needed now. It was the suburbs headquarters for the local police. I don't know why it had to be here and not the main one in the city, but here I am.
I looked up at the building before sighing, letting the pins out of my hair and running my fingers through it as I stepped inside.
"Miss Galloway." I heard an accented voice and turned to it, a nervous smile on my face as I looked at the person that called me. He was dark skinned, like he sunbathed everyday with dark eyes and black hair. He looked to be in his thirties and he held his own story in his face. A story I do not wish to know as I know it would be sad and harrowing.
"I'm Detective Moreau, I work with the Italian authorities with this case, please, follow me." He had extended his hand for a quick handshake before leading me down a hallway to a room. Leonard followed me as we stepped into the small room, a room I gathered use to be a bedroom when this building was an actual house. Why am I intrigued this use to be a house? I asked myself then snickered at myself. I rolled my eyes at my inner demonic attitude and took a deep breathe.
I sat at the table and Detective Moreau offered me a coffee. I nodded my answer as I leaned back on the chair, waiting. Leonard checked the room before leaving, telling me he will be in the next room. I gave him a small nod, already bored from waiting. I just want this nightmare to end. I know it won't, not for a long time, maybe upon my death it finally will and as much as I want this over as soon as possible, I hope it isn't on my death.
Detective Moreau returned with my coffee and handed it to me before he sat. There was a long minute of awkward silence as I cradled the coffee mug and took in its aroma.
"Right. Now why don't you want to testify against Angelo Ricci and his men?"