Page 99 of Sling’s Awakening

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RJ

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Shit.

I’m the last one on the sheet.

But I know for a fact there were more bottles in that box than what I just broke when I left last night.

Panic starts to set in as my chest feels heavy with anxiety. With the way Russ has been lately, I’m afraid he’s going to think I stole the liquor bottles.

I’d rather leave a job on my own terms than have to explain why I was terminated after almost a decade.

I blow out a breath. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell myself.

It has to be.

This is just another bump in the road.

I carefully pick up the box, supporting the mushy bottom with my hand so glass doesn’t fall out the bottom and throw it in the trash. Once I have it all mopped up, I go back to counting, trying my best to block out everything that just happened.

Disassociation has never steered me wrong before.

I sit back on my heels once I’m done.

Twenty bottles are unaccounted for.

I just don’t understand how that’s even possible.

I look at my phone to check the time. Russ should be here in an hour, and I’ll tell him.

If he’s not high off his ass again.

A loud banging is coming from the back hallway, making me pause in my task as I strain to listen.

It doesn’t let up.

Fear sets in as I leave the storage room to investigate. Being the only one here sometimes feels like it did the first time you stayed home alone as a kid. Any little noise and you think you’re going to be murdered.

I poke my head around the corner just as the banging begins again.

What the fuck.

Someone is knocking on the back door.

I dash into the office to look at the monitor Russ has hanging on the wall that displays all the security camera angles, finding the one that covers the back door.

My mouth drops open.

It’s the fucking cops.

Two of them are outside the back door.