The Night Shift

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I threw the dirty dishrag over my shoulder and sighed. My feet hurt, my back hurt, and my head hurt, but my bank account hurt worse. Tonight was quiet, giving me a lot of time to think. My mind always ended up in dark places when it wandered.

Most people think things are worse in retrospect, but when I've made a total of $20 in tips during an eight hour shift and realize I might be burning candles all week, it makes me wonder if my life hadn't been so bad. I mean, what's a bruise here and there when you at least know the electricity bill will be paid, right?

Every time my mind offered up these thoughts though, I made myself remember how afraid, alone, and absolutely desolate I had felt in that house. Electricity wasn't worth my sanity.

The restaurant was finally winding down, and I cleaned up the remaining tables in my section. The little eatery I worked at was quaint. Most of our clientele were older, like the establishment itself. I finished sweeping crumbs off the gray, stained Formica on my last table, and pushed my sweaty bangs out of my eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsey and I were the only two employees left. Kelsey was a single mother, but she had an unbreakable spirit. The woman was always happy, something I actually found endearing rather than annoying. It was easy to be friends with Kelsey.

She was a very open person. Within a few weeks of knowing each other, I had learned that her jackass of an ex had run off with another girl. Their son Bradley had only been six months old at the time, and she hadn't heard from him since. As terrible as it sounded, it was easier for me to be friends with people who had endured some hardship themselves.

"Hey, Cassie? Is it okay if I slip out early? The old lady across the hall is watching Bradley tonight and she always falls asleep on the couch at eleven."

I didn't like closing alone, but I knew it was hard for Kelsey to find someone to watch her son so I told her to go ahead. Resigning myself to a long night, I pulled out the mop with a sigh.

Finally, a little after midnight, I pulled my purse out of the drawer in the back room and hung up my apron. I stepped out into the night, locking the restaurant doors behind me. My apartment complex was only three blocks away, but I hated the walk home when I worked a night shift. Before I started toward my apartment, I fished my mace out from my purse.

For the umpteenth time, I wished I could afford a car. I could barely make my rent payment as it was though, and Montana was turning out to be lot more expensive than I had anticipated. I hadn't really planned my escape at all. The only goal had been to get lost, and Nowheresville, Montana had fit the bill.

I pulled my coat tighter around me and clutched the mace in my hand. The weather was fair, but a chill settled over me anyway. I tried unsuccessfully to shake off the gloomy feeling. I looked around slowly and cynically, taking in the deserted road and sidewalk.

Living with Jason had put the fear of God in me. Being constantly afraid for my life the entire four years of my marriage had warped my sense of self preservation. I was paranoid now; my walks home were shadowed by the memories of everything I had endured at his hands.

Logically, I knew that not every man was a cold blooded bastard like Jason, but who was I to tempt fate by being careless?

I slipped the mace into my other hand and wiped my sweaty palm on my jacket. I forced myself to take a calming breath, aiming to slow my racing pulse. I tried not to be such a damn coward, but cowardice wasn't the same thing as caution, was it?

Sometimes, I liked to think that being with Jason had only made me stronger. I suffered but came out better, more worldly than before. Times like tonight though, when I could feel my heart trying to leap out of my chest every time the wind blew leaves across the parking lot, it was all just wishful thinking.

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