Satzell - Volume 1

Chapter 7 - That Time

We were just around in town, buying some groceries at a local supermarket, nothing too special.

Even so, I enjoyed staying with her. She was the most important person in my life, my ever-present support, my light at the end of the tunnel.

How glad I was to have such an amazing mother.

Although I didn't enjoy going out much, I still went anytime she asked: how could I refuse?

"Do you want anything?" 

She asked me, a warm smile on her face.

"Uhm... we already have some stuff, so don't worry."

Of course I wanted to get something, but really, it didn't matter. I know, a bit of money spent on food wouldn't have changed anything, but I tried my hardest not to be a burden.

"Okay... are you sure? We don't have a lot of food at home." She looked at me, asking with unnecessary worry.

For the record, we did have enough food at home.

"Yeah, there's no problem." I smiled, shrugging off her worries.

We continued going around, as she bought what she needed while I walked beside her.

When we got to the counter, I helped put the food down and then back into the bag; she paid, and then I took the bag to carry it, walking slightly in front of her as we exited the store.

Up until now, everything was going normally: it was just another day at the supermarket, buying groceries as usual.

But no. Not that time. That time it had to be different.

As we walked down the road, I saw a man to my right, walking drunkenly and looking like he had just been recovered from the bottom of the ocean.

At first, I didn't care and kept walking with my mother. Until he started to approach us.

Then my mind began fantasizing about the worst possibilities: I started thinking about what I would do if he suddenly pulled out a knife and attacked me, or something similar. It's nothing special, just a thing that my brain likes to do.

Those possibilities, however, luckily never occur.

Except

For

That

Time.

He pulled out a gun from his jacket and pointed it at me, smiling as he expected a fruitful mugging.

I thought.

But no, no, no, and yet again no.

It wasn't a mugging. That bastard was fucking sick in the head, and we had to be the victims of his sickness.

I dropped the bag, and prepared for the worst.

He was now only about a meter away from us. I was fine with giving him whatever the fuck he wanted.