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I could see his reflection, and the reflection of the clock in the moon roof. The time was 3:18 am, and the expression on his face was of sheer terror. I was paralyzed. Fear had gripped my soul so tight, the rush of adrenaline in my system was about to make me lose my lunch. The horror was gut wrenching. The feeling was far beyond the realm of anything I could have imagined. All I could think about was "Would I have to be on television? Would my face be on the news? In the paper? On the net?!". I thought about how ashamed my mother would be of me. What my co-workers would think, and the rumors they’d spread. My mind raced through time and space. Through every thought, time, and place I’d ever been. My life flashed before me in ways I’d never seen. And now I lay in a car, with my panties around my ankles with a corpse (whose last name I don’t even know), laying next to me with his face splattered all over his leather interior. I didn’t even know what kind of car it was. I was weak with anxiety. The pit of my stomach quivered. I couldn’t decide what to do. I couldn’t decide if I should get out and run for help, or if I should stay my ass in the car in case they were still around.
They. Who ever they were. I hadn’t the vaguest clue. Hell, I didn’t even know who he was! I decided to stay in the car, at least for the time being, while I thought things through. Or at least tried. I couldn’t remember my cell phone’s emergency code, and didn’t have the strength to go digging through my purse for it. Was it 911? Or was is # something, or * something I wanted so desperately to stop trembling long enough to sit up and look around to see if the coast was clear. I knew I had to do something but my nerves were so bad I couldn’t hardly think. Or even move for that matter. I replayed the whole day over and over again in my mind. My thoughts were cluttered. They even sounded cluttered in my head. And loud. Loud like confusion. Like the noise you get from having the tv, radio and the vacuum cleaner all on at the same time. I tried to lock in on one thought at a time. Again, and again I tried to replay the day to see if there had been any clues, or any warning signs that should have tipped me off . . .
That day . . .
It was Friday, the thirteenth. Really! I got off work early. It was the due date of my payment arrangement with the phone company, and the last day I could pay my bill before the phone got cut off. And I had to get to the office before they closed. I left work, cashed my check, and headed for the phone company. I worked downtown so I only had to walk about 5 or 6 blocks. The line was short, so I was in and out in less than 10 minutes. The phone bill was paid. That burden was off my mind, so I went to get some food, a new pair of shoes, and stop by my friend’s job and see if she wanted to go out later on. She said she’d love to, but she’d have to bring David, one of her bed buddies. She knew I hated being a third wheel, and so she conveniently said she would ask David’s best friend Roger, if he’d like to come. She convinced me it would be fun. "It is not a date," she assured me "we’re just all gonna kick it!" Cool. I went along with it. I told her I’d be at her house around 10, and I left.
At 8:12 she called me to say that the guys were picking her up at 10:30, and they would come and get me around 10:45. Great. I had a few more hours, so I took my time getting ready. I put a bowl of leftover pasta in the microwave; ate, and watched a Good Times rerun. It was the one where Thelma’s family went to dinner at Ibe’s house. And they announced they were getting married and Thelma was moving to Africa. I caught the last half of the show, and took my time getting ready. At 11:16 pm my doorbell rang. I grabbed my purse, jacket, hit the lights, and left. My friend met me in the lobby, and as we walked out the car she explained they were late because the guys had to stop off somewhere before they picked her up, and that David didn’t drive, Roger did. And since she and David were kicking it, she recommended that I sit up front, so her and......(click here for the next page)
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