Page 10

That was not just a box falling. What the fuck was happening up there?

I didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle, and listened.

I flinched when something slammed, closer now, so I backed up into the darkest corner of the room, still crouching. I glanced at the open safe, wondering if I could just take its contents and run out the door next to the loading bay.

Then I heard Jay, who sounded terrified, say, “It’s there, it’s right there, I promise. Please don’t kill me.”

What the fuck.

He was back here, right in front of the fucking office.

With someone he was begging not to kill him.

God damn it.

Was it Tom? Why would it be Tom, though?

Someone else? But fucking who? There was no way that someone else had decided to rob from the store the same exact day—the same exact moment—I had.

No fucking way.

I groped around my front pocket, but it was empty.

Fuck. I’d left the stupid box cutter up front.

I eyed the pencil cup on Mr. Thorne’s desk, lunged across the small room and grabbed the first thing my fingers landed on. I touched the tip with the pad of my index finger to make sure it was sharp enough, then, satisfied it would be a decent weapon, I settled back into the dark corner and waited.

A muffled voice said something I didn’t catch, and then there were two faces at the glass—Jay and someone much taller dressed in black. The lower half of his face was covered in some kind of…skull mask bandana thing and the hood of his sweatshirt was pulled tight over his head. But his eyes were clearly visible. A bright green that practically glowed against the black and white mask.

He had a gun pressed to Jay’s temple as he spoke quietly to him behind the door. His voice was hushed, but whatever he said made Jay start crying.

Fucking coward.

I honestly didn’t feel sorry for the little prick.

The man tapped Jay’s temple with the gun, then tapped the glass on the door, speaking in a low volume. There was something soothing about his voice, about the tone of it, the cadence. It was deep, calm, and quiet, but authoritative.

“Okay! Okay—here,” came Jay’s whiny, high-pitched, teary-eyed words. There was a jingling, like keys⁠—

Oh, fuck. Was this seriously a robbery?

I could feel the anger returning, boiling through my veins and pouring a mist of red across my vision.

That fucking bastard. It was my money. I was here first. This was my fucking ticket out of this stupid fucking town and I wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that.

I watched as the man drew his arm back and pistol-whipped Jay so hard his head bounced off the glass and he went flying back and out of sight.

It was wrong of me, but satisfaction curled through me as I watched Jay get his comeuppance. He’d watched me get assaulted and harassed day after day and did nothing.

The satisfaction didn’t last long, though, because the man muttered to himself and turned the knob. It clicked open, the door swung inward, and light cascaded into the room—immediately exposing me in my corner.

The man paused when he saw me, his eyes widening in surprise. “What the⁠—”

I took advantage of his surprise, pushed off the ground and sprang toward him, sinking the writing utensil into his chest. There was a low grunt, and when I backed up a few paces, I could see it was a pen.

A blue pen.

With glitter on it.