Page 6 of Overcast

A forceful windblows through my long hair and cuts a chill throughout my entire body. I shiver against it with my back to a thick, metal beam, searching for warmth when the night promises none.

It also doesn’t help when there is nothing to block out the winter-trying-to-turn-spring temperatures because there are no windows in the abandoned space I’m in.

Random garbage litters the floor, while electrical wires hang from the ceiling. Aimless arrays of colorful graffiti are the only thing that decorates the setting with people’s names and words that mean something to someone.

And the only way out, besides tackling the large dude that hasn’t stopped staring at me since I was dragged up several flights of stairs, is to jump out the barren spaces to my untimely death.

Tall buildings, to where I can see the tops, allude to how high up I am. This building used to be something, an office maybe, and it’s being renovated or torn down.

Regardless, it’s depleted of bodies or a phone to call 911. And with zero bravery or ideas of suicide, the odds of me hurling myself out of this high building—not going to happen.

I’ve contemplated screaming to see if anyone would hear me, but silence encompasses everything. I haven’t heard traffic or people bustling outside. The large man standing in the room’s corner will only stop me, and I don’t know how that’ll happen, so that bottles up that idea.

Curling my toes in my still damp socks, my brain begs for another idea to filter through.

I don’t know what I did.

I’ve never been in trouble with anyone before. The closest I’ve gotten was when I tripped, and my lunch tray flew into four perfectly placed girls in the cafeteria at school. One threatened to beat my ass while the other three threw out slurs of names at me. But that was last year and who kidnaps someone over tripping so that idea is out.

The soft scuffs against cement sound behind me, and I freeze against my metal support. My eyes flick to the man in the corner, but he’s gone.

Every hair on my body stands on end as I back up closer to the piece of hard beam that provides the only promise that doesn’t threaten to hurt me.

My heartbeat is erratic, strumming against my eardrums loudly, and bashing into my chest cavity.

I shouldn’t be here. I did nothing.

Going home isn’t my first go-to destination, but right now, it is. I want to put on my half-working headphones and listen to Fleetwood Mac because Stevie Nicks gets me into a zone. I remember Dad blaring it a few times when I was young and—

Where’s Dad?

My nostrils flare as I force tears back. I heard his voice, then the clack of a bullet registering into the barrel of a gun.

The gunshot...it was so loud and distinct that I know I didn’t imagine it. Perceptions of blood and a giant wound in Dad’s chest flood my brain.

Oh my God, did they shoot him?

I’m not worth anything, so if these people want a ransom, they’re not going to get one.

I’m a nobody.

Literally, an alive ghost that no one ever notices. If people said my name, the response would be “who?”.

So, what did Dad do? Is he in trouble? Did he owe someone money?

Oh, shoot, Dad.

I pray to everything holy that he didn’t. That he isn’t involved with a gambling debt or something worse.

He did come home with a gold watch the other day...

A black figure appears out of my peripheral, but I dare not look at it—I can’t.

Clenching my eyes closed, my first hope is that he won’t see me. That my invisibility will work on him too. I’m afraid that if I peer over, this will be real. That I’m not locked away in a never-ending nightmare.

Please wake up.

Please…

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