Page 2 of Diesel
Sophie jumped, a cry escaping her throat before she could stop it.The sound had come from the side window near the alley.She spun around, heart thudding, and caught sight of a brick lying among scattered shards on the floor.
They’re inside.They’re coming inside.Panic clawed up her throat.She backed toward the cooler again and slid inside, careful not to let the door click shut.The chilled air hit her like a slap, and she pressed herself against the steel shelving, heart hammering.
Voices filled the front room now.
“Dumb bitch probably leaves the till open.”
“Grab what you can and let’s go—”
The rest was drowned out by the thud of boots and the sound of more things crashing to the floor.Sophie clenched her fists, trying to breathe through the cold.
She didn’t care about the cash register.Let them take it.As long as they didn’t come back here.
She closed her eyes and prayed.Please.Please let them think no one’s here.
A muffled curse.Then footsteps, closer now.She heard someone knock over a display stand.The vase of lilies she'd set out for a funeral order earlier today hit the ground and shattered.
Sophie bit her lip until she tasted blood.
She’d survived worse, she reminded herself.She’d survived nights alone in group homes with broken locks and screaming neighbors.She’d learned how to hide, how to become invisible.She could do it again.
Then something scraped against the cooler door.
She stopped breathing.
A pause.
Then: “Yo, you hear that?”
“Probably just rats.”
“Nah, I swear I heard something.”
Her pulse throbbed in her ears as the handle jiggled once.Twice.
Please don’t open it.
Then a crash came from the front of the store—a louder one this time, glass and metal and shouting.
“Shit—someone’s coming!”
The door handle stilled.
Footsteps retreated fast, pounding across the hardwood.
More shouting.
Car doors slamming.
Then silence.
Sophie stayed frozen for another minute, maybe five, maybe ten—time had lost all meaning.
When she finally crept from the cooler, the shop looked like a war zone.Broken glass, trampled flowers, shelves overturned.The front window was shattered.Her FRESH DAHLIAS sign was torn and lying in the dirt.The cash register was cracked open on the floor, bills scattered like leaves.
She stood in the middle of the chaos, shaking.
Then the bell above the front door jingled, and Sophie almost screamed, spinning with her hands raised in defense—
