Wish I Could Catch a Breeze // Albert DaSilva

Chapter Fifteen

hi! I'm placing my author's note before this chapter for a few reasons. I don't want to ruin the moment at the end of the chapter and (IMPORTANT) I'm placing a trigger warning before this chapter for blood and violence.

ok, that's all I have to say. thank you for reading, and enjoy!
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Gretchen glanced out the window at the darkening sky. It had been a much colder day than normal, and she was ready to get home. However, she needed to close up the shop and make sure all the financial books in the back were in order. She may not have liked math, but she still needed to do it. Especially since Ms. Ferguson had been spending less and less time at the shop. It was up to Gretchen to do most of the work now. She didn't mind, but it was tiring.

With a sigh, she looked at the clock on the wall. 7:56. Close enough to closing time, just four minutes away. Gretchen locked the front door and flipped the sign around to show that the store was closed. She made her way to the back room and sat down, picking up a pencil in case she needed to make some changes in the books. She looked at the numbers on the paper in front of her and began to work.

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Gretchen blinked, confused. The last thing she remembered was beginning to balance the books. She must have fallen asleep. Her head was on the table, and the pencil had fallen to the floor. She sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly. How long had she been asleep? What time was it?

She stood up slowly, stretching out her sore back. The wooden chair she had been sitting on wasn't comfortable, how did she fall asleep in it? Gretchen stepped out of the back room to look at the clock, which read 12:49. Gretchen's jaw dropped slightly. Had she been asleep for four hours? Her parents must be worried sick. With a glance outside, Gretchen considered staying the night at the flower shop. It was late, it was cold, and it wasn't a safe time for her to be out in the streets alone. But if she stayed, her parents would possibly be even more worried about her.

Finally, Gretchen decided to go. If she stuck to the main roads and walked quickly, she could get home pretty soon. She would be home in no time, warming up by the fireplace. She was sure that she was worrying about this for nothing. After returning to the back room to clean up, she grabbed her coat and stepped out into the street behind the shop. She locked the back door, then began to make her way in the direction of the main road.

She had to make an effort not to slip on the frost-ridden pavement. Her coat almost wasn't enough to keep her warm. She pulled the fabric tighter around herself as she reached the main road. The street was quiet, but it was much safer than any back alley. Gretchen began to gain a bit of confidence when she didn't see anyone around. That is, until she heard footsteps behind her. Steps that sounded like heavy boots.

Trying not to look as afraid as she felt, Gretchen picked up her pace slightly. Maybe she'd be able to outrun this man. Maybe he wasn't even following her. But she doubted both of those. She just concentrated on walking faster until she could get to a more familiar area.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, darlin'?" The man called out to her, his voice gruff and dangerous-sounding.

Gretchen didn't reply; she only walked faster and ignored him. If she ignored him, he'd eventually lose interest and go away. Or so she hoped.

"Aw, don't be like that," the man tried again. His voice sounded closer, and his tone made the hair stand up on the back of Gretchen's neck. Still, she didn't answer. She kept her head down, but glanced around to see if anyone was around to help her. There was no one.

Gretchen didn't know how close he was to her until she felt a hand close around her wrist. She didn't have time to jerk away before she was pulled into an alley and slammed into a wall. With a cry of surprise and hurt, Gretchen was suddenly facing the man, her back still against the wall. She was just about to scream, kick, run, or do something, but she froze when she saw something glint in the man's hand. He was carrying a sharp, broken glass bottle in his right hand and holding her against the wall with his left. He reeked of alcohol, which only made Gretchen more scared.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but he was tackled to the ground by someone before he could utter a word. Gretchen watched, frozen in her spot, as the man grappled with her sudden savior. When the two rolled into the dim light coming from the street lamp, she could see that this newcomer had red hair. Her jaw dropping in shock, Gretchen realized that Albert was the one who tackled the man, and who was now being dragged up by the other man.

She wanted to do something, anything. She wanted to move, but her feet were suddenly made of the same concrete as the pavement she stood on. She wanted to scream but she suddenly had no voice. All she could do was watch as the man was met with Albert's fist to his face. Gretchen suddenly remembered the broken bottle the man was holding, and her voice finally came to her.

"Albert! Look out, he-"

Gretchen never finished her plea. It was too late. With a sharp cry of pain, Albert took a step back. The man fled with the little energy he had left in him.