Page 47 of Last Boy

“Are you sure it’s okay if I pop out?” Mandy, my coworker says, chewing her bottom lip. “I just started here a few weeks ago, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m flaky.”

Yet here you are, asking to duck out of your shift an hour early.

But what do I care? It’s dead in here. Besides, I like being alone. Mandy is nice, but she likes to talk—a lot.

“Nah. It’s fine.” I look past her at the empty café. “I think I’ll manage. Go on.”

She sighs in relief before nodding eagerly. “Thank you, Poppy. I’ll cover you next time you need to slip out early.” Gathering her things, she quickly darts out the front door like she’s scared I’ll change my mind.

Once she’s gone, I take a deep breath and slowly let it back out. Closing my eyes for just a second, I take in the silence and allow myself a moment of just…nothing.

I like working in the café alone. It’s quiet. And calm. And I don’t have to try to make small talk with someone that I barely know. I mean, unless it’s extremely busy. Then, yeah…working alone would suck. But tonight isn’t going to be like that.

Looking around the café, I shake my head at myself. “Enough rest for one day.”

I’ve always had this idea in my head—well, more of a belief—that if I sit still for too long, all the demons I’ve been running from will catch up to me all at once. In my mind, I see them tackling me to the ground in dark, thick waves of pure horror. Draining the life from me, holding me hostage to my own experiences. Almost as if they are cutting my air supply off and suffocating me to death.

Until the night Van died, I had spent years running from my pain. Hiding it behind my bitchy face and snarky comments. Always hurting others before they ever got the chance to hurt me.

I guess I sort of became a bully in other people’s stories.

I don’t want to be like that anymore. I just want to be…peaceful.

In the past, I’d mute the hockey game just to avoid having to hear the mention of Walker James’s name. But tonight, I hit the volume button, turning it up enough to hear. I watch him move across the ice, knowing it’s him right away, before seeing his name stretched across his back with the number ninety-one below it.

My chest squeezes as he assists Link Sterns, who slaps it in. They celebrate before getting right back to attack mode. He’s found his place. And I’m so happy for him that he has.

Sighing, I tear my eyes from the TV and start wiping down all the tables for the second time tonight, trying my best to make the last leg of my shift pass by a little quicker, which is absolutely useless because the next hour passes at a snail’s pace. I check the clock every now and then. And finally, like watching paint dry on a wall…it’s time to close this bitch down. And I get to go home.

Turning the sign on the door, I grab my hoodie from behind the counter and pull it on. As soon as I walk outside into the night air, my nose is freezing. Winters in Georgia can get cold despite what people think because it’s in the South.

Locking the door, I give it one good pull to make sure it’s latched before I start my trek home. Ryann would have undoubtedly picked me up on her way back from Watson’s hockey game, but I didn’t want to be a bother. At some point, I’m going to need to get my own car. When I finally have the money.

I guess that’ll be sooner than I thought, thanks to Walker since he took care of the bill for Van to be cremated.

Pulling my hood up, I hear a vehicle coming up behind me. I don’t panic because this is Brooks. And though the hockey game ended a while ago, a lot of spectators are probably just now heading home.

The car gets closer and closer, but it doesn’t pass by me. And even though I try to push it down, that feeling of dread fills my gut, chilling me to the bone. As the car comes to a stop and I see the headlights in my peripheral vision, the hair on the back of my neck stands.

I’m overreacting. It’s probably just one of the girls on the dance team messing with me.

As much as I want to believe my own reassuring thoughts, that ends quickly when two doors open and I move my focus to the car to see two men, wearing black ski masks, running toward me.

For a second, I freeze. I don’t think I take a breath as paralyzing fear spreads through my body, taking up every ounce of my being.

But when I snap back to the present, I realize that no matter how useless it is, I need to at least try to run away. And so I do. Unfortunately for me, they are much faster than I am. And within seconds, I’m being dragged between two buildings. One of the men throws me down on the hard ground, and the other pulls my head upward by my hair.

“Be quiet. Or I’ll fucking kill you. Listen here, you fucking bitch,” the deep voice growls, tightening the grip on my hair. “Your brother owes us money. And since he’s fucking dead, guess that leaves you to pay up.”

The one standing above me takes his foot and drives it into my stomach. “Hand it over, you stupid bitch. Pay up. Pay for your brother’s fuckups.”

Reaching in my pocket, I take out every dollar I earned tonight. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll be enough for them to let me go.

He snatches it from my hand, and I wince when the one behind me pulls upward even more. My scalp screams in agony.

Taking his flashlight, he holds it over the money before his foot comes down again. This time, with a lot more force. “This is, like, forty fucking dollars!” he roars, kicking my side now.

I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood. I’m afraid if I cry out in pain, it’ll only make this all worse. I blink a few times, willing myself to wake up. Maybe this is a nightmare. Perhaps in a moment, I’ll wake up in my bedroom.

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