She was a broken person. Inside her chest she could feel it. All of the facts pointed to her being the trouble. Standing at the grocery story, feeling anxious and terrible, she held out the money to the cashier, when a man in a ski mask burst into the store, pointing a shotgun, screaming, “Everyone get down on the ground.”
Richard Everywriter (pen name) is the founder of EveryWriter and a 25-year veteran of the publishing industry. With degrees in Writing, Journalism, Technology, and Education, Richard has dedicated two decades to teaching writing and literature while championing emerging voices through EveryWriter's platform. His work focuses on making literary analysis accessible to readers at all levels while preserving the rich heritage of American literature. Connect with Richard on Twitter Bluesky Facebook or explore opportunities to share your own work on ourSubmissions page. For monthly insights on writing and publishing, subscribe to our Newsletter.
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Inside her chest she could feel it. Her body sensed danger.. Standing at the grocery store, feeling anxious and terrible, she held out the money to the cashier. She just wanted to leave and get back to her motel room, when a man in a ski mask burst into the store, pointing a shotgun, screamed, “Everyone get down or else!” She fell to the floor instantly. She couldn’t feel her body. She went numb. How had he found her? She had covered her tracks so well. She only paid with cash and went to small shops. She shouldn’t have been traceable. A sharp pain brought her back to reality. Her lower back all of a sudden started burning. She screamed but no sound reached her ears. She looked up and saw him smiling in the ski mask. He grabbed her arm. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her out of the store after shooting the surveillance cameras. Once inside the car he finally pulled off the ski mask and and stomped on the gas pedal. She looked over at him feeling defeated and ashamed. She had escaped him for three weeks. She was doing so well. Now all she could think about was escaping again. His voice cut into her thoughts like a hot blade. “You really thought you could escape me.” It wasn’t as much of a question rather a demand. She looked away not wanting to face him. It had been dumb of her to get involved with the mafia, even more so trying to dump the mafia leader. She lowered her head a little more and saw the door handle. She desperately looked up and saw the car door was still unlocked due to the fast pace of his escape. She knew that if she tried to escape she would most likely die. But it was better than what they would do to her if she got back to them. He was rambling on about something as he pulled onto the highway which was almost deserted. She knew she had to take the chance. She grabbed the handle and flung herself out of the speeding car. She landed and heard her head splinter with a awful crunch. As she lost consciousness she smiled, she was finally at peace away from the shotgun mafia.
She was a broken person. Inside her chest she could feel it. All of the facts pointed to her being the trouble. Standing at the grocery story, feeling anxious and terrible, she held out the money to the cashier, when a man in a ski mask burst into the store, pointing a shotgun, screaming, “Everyone get down on the ground.”
In that instant, everything slowed. She could smell the fear of the moment rising from the innocents. She heard every inharmonious noise from the store-goers’ respective lives as they saw their existence play out before their own eyes. With the symphony of clamor trying desperately to cloud her mind, it was hard to remember what drove her to this – this pitiful last resort. The cashier she had held her money to froze, their hand stuck on the way to retrieving her payment. Her eyes flicked to the side. The cash register.
It was then that the she realized she had two options. One, she could play hero… and die trying. Heaven only knew how physically limited she was and never bothered to help her. She knew how weak she was. Figured. That was why she chickened out of her own scheme. Two, she could empty the drawers of the register, find the best dealer she could that was as far away from her miserable little town as she could possibly venture, spend her bounty on illegal recreational drugs, and ride her high to the River Styx.
The cashier could see the struggle in her eyes. If only they knew the whole of it. They sent her an expression that was either a frown or a smile. Could have been both for all she knew since all she knew was that she had to find a way around paying the masked man she hired before lives were really at stake.
Five moments. The cashier willingly dumped the cash into her bag.
Four moments. The cashier hid behind the counter as she zipped her bag closed.
Three moments. She spun on her heel and started on a sprint.
Two moments. The masked man finally realized that she was not going to pay him. He turned.
One moment. A bang. How unprofessional of him to not use a silencer. Fortunately, he was not going to found guilty of having blood on his hands. The shot was too precise to allow him time to react.
Moments. She was free for moments in a new place. Sure, it was not a lot. But it was enough for her to run to place where she can try to stitch herself back together.