Story Prompt - Your character witnessed her
father's murder when she was 5 years old, and now, at work, she wonders why her co-worker looks familiar.
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| Photo by Juan Ordonez on Unsplash |
I remember the day like it was yesterday.
Every Sunday, my dad and I would take a ten-minute walk to
the local shop to get a newspaper for him, and a packet of cherry lips sweets for
me. It was a tradition, every Sunday, no matter the weather.
On the day in question, we went out much later than usual.
Dad had been in the garage for most of the day and had lost track of the
time. It was winter and the nights were setting in early. He came
into the house at 3.20pm apologising and telling me to get my coat and winter
boots on. I remember Mum say that she didn't want us to go. Getting too dark, she had said. You don't know who is out there.
Dad was a big man and scoffed at the thought. He said "Come on love, have you seen
the size of me? No one would dare!" Dad was a tall man, with broad
shoulders that he used to carry me on. I used to think that my dad
was a superhero. Unstoppable.
By the time we were ready to leave the house, it was dark outside and the
snow had become thick on the ground. But with my dad, I felt completely safe. I miss that feeling, because since that day, I have never felt
truly safe again.
After leaving home and a few minutes of trudging through the snow later, we entered an alleyway which led to the main street. There was a man entering at the other side. It was unusual to see people in the alleyway, which was more of a snicket between two rows of houses. I looked up at the man approaching, and saw something glistening appear in his hand as he removed it from his pocket. His face reminded me a bit of a weasel.
I
heard my Dad loudly say "You!" in a surprised tone of what I now realise was recognition and then, a cry. The other man barely stopped
in his momentum, carrying on up the alleyway as my dad fell to the floor.
I did not understand at first. Why my dad had fallen over. Why the man did not stop. Why there was red liquid starting to cover
the white snow around my dad. Why he was
not moving.
I do not remember any more about that day. Or many days of my childhood since then. My dad died on the ground of the alleyway
that day and a part of me died with him.
The police investigated, but the murderer was never found. We knew found out why.
Twenty years on, I still think about that day. How could I not? People tell me that they are happy that it
happened when I was so young. That I
must not really remember my dad and what happened. But I do remember and the memory of the blood seeping into the snow and his dead eyes, shock still registering on his face staring up at me from the ground will never leave me.
I still live with my mum.
Except now we live two towns over from our previous home. We could not stay there.
I was always a happy child, friendly and trusting; but after
the incident I changed. These days I am
quiet, reserved. I tend to keep to
myself. As a rule, I don't trust people. Because a person killed my dad and I don’t
know who it was or why they did it.
I started working at the bank five years ago as a
junior. Now I am a banking clerk,
studying alongside and slowly, making my way up. I am known to be a hard worker. But not that friendly. But I am reliable and get the job done and
that is all my bosses care about.
The reason I tell you my story today is because of yesterday
morning. I went into work as usual and
was told that there was a new accounts manager.
Tom Allen they said he was called.
I thought nothing of it. Accounts
managers tended to come and go. I
suspected that he would be no different.
We met in the break room at 10.15 when I was making my
coffee. “Lucy! Come and meet our new
recruit”. I went over to the manager who
was sat with an older looking man who sat opposite. “Lucy, meet Tom, our new accounting
manager”. I turned to look at him, a practiced small smile on my face and my hand outstretching to shake hands but then, I
froze. Everything stopped. I think time may have even stopped for a
second.
It was him. I was
sure of it. That weasel face. It was him.
I managed to recover and hide my shock, although I retracted
my hand. “Hi, I’m Lucy. Sorry, I think I zoned out for a second
there! Welcome to the bank". Surely, I was mistaken. After all, it would be impossible. Yet, I looked into his eyes, those weasel
eyes and saw something there.
Recognition. He recognised me
too.
He stared at me, a little too long, as I had done. “No problem Lucy, it is a Monday after all. Not a heavy weekend I hope, hahaha!” He smiled up at me, but the
smile did not reach the eyes. His eyes
were searching mine.
Greetings done, I went back to the coffee machine to get my
coffee. I could feel his gaze burning
into me as I left the room. The manager
would ignore my awkwardness. They knew I
didn’t socialise or chat.
By the evening when I got home, I had managed to convince
myself that he was not him. That he was
not my father’s killer. He was just
another weasel faced man who looked familiar.
There was no way I could recognise him after twenty years. Right?
Then we come to today.
I had managed to avoid Tom all day.
Although I knew that another meeting was inevitable. Yesterday had all been in my head. Of course it had. My colleagues knew that I was strange, but
damn, I needed to get a grip!
But then, 5.00pm rolls around. I started to gather my things and my handbag when I heard someone come up behind me.
Close. Too close. “Lucy!”.
It was him. Fuck.
“The manager tells me that you get the train home. Not safe for a girl like you. How about I offer you a lift?” I look up at him. He is smiling, but his eyes were
pointed. Staring, as if right into my
soul. Stop it, Lucy. He is just being friendly.
“No, I am ok Tom, I enjoy the train, but thank you for the
offer”. I get up and put my coat on.
No, he says. “I
insist. It is dark outside. Too many alleys between here and the
station. You don’t know who you might
run into”.
The world stopped right there. My heart felt like it was beating out of my
chest. It was him. And he knew.
He knew that I knew.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight. I couldn’t
fight. He would say I had attacked
him. What could I say? He killed my dad? On what grounds? He looks like him? He mentioned alleyways? No. I
had to be clever.
I looked right back at the him. With the steel in my heart that had started
to form all those years ago.
“Oh don’t worry Tom.
I can take care of myself. Believe
me. Night though. Have a good evening”.
I walked, not ran out of the building. I was calm.
For the first time in what seemed like, what was, forever.
I knew three things.
The first, that that man, Tom Allen, had murdered my
father. I did not know why. And I could never prove it.
The second, I knew that he could kill me. That he was willing to do so. But I was not that little girl anymore. And the piece of me that he stolen that day
was my heart. I felt nothing. I had not felt emotions in years.
I have always been the quiet girl. Unassuming. Pleasant but not friendly. Under the radar. But, I had started karate when I was ten. I was a black belt by fifteen. From there to present day, I studied Krav Maga. My current instructor calls me the lethal ninja girl.
I knew that I wanted to be able to protect myself. I wanted to be strong. So much stronger than I looked. I wanted to be ready. For the day, if it ever appeared, when I came face to face with a monster. The monster.
The third thing I knew was that I was
going to kill him.
