Atticus crawled under a booth, clutching his throbbing foot firmly. Pain flooded through all his veins and he struggled to keep his body still. Crouching low to the ground he peered out into the restaurant scanning the area for her. It had been fifteen minutes after closing when the tall trench coat woman pranced into the restaurant and plagued his duty as a dish boy into a disheveled witness of a murder.
Atticus distinctively remembered when she walked in. He remembered glancing up through the order window and watching his coworker Jessica give the stranger a warm smile and friendly "Can I help you?" Atticus remembered he was thinking about his ex-girlfriend and he really couldn't explain why. She was a wrench of a girl and caused him enough stress as it was on top of his parent's strained marriage and his behavior counseling, Atticus wasn't the best kid, and the lady in the trench coat knew it too.
Click.
Click.
Scooting back Atticus stared at the shiny red heels tiptoeing across the spacious room. She was heading towards him.
"Atticus." She whispered softly.
From his position, Atticus could see the small ax resting near her feet.
"Darling I didn't mean to startle you." She continued.
"Who knew Seattle Washington could provide such... exotic captives."
Wincing at her comment Atticus scowled to himself, as a Native boy of seventeen he didn't appreciate being called "exotic" even by a serial killer.
"Atticus?" She asked.
"Why don't you come out? It's not like you can hide from me."
Pushing back against the wall Atticus was truly grateful for being selectively mute at this time in his life.
Click.
Click.
Alarm gnawed at his gut and twisted up his insides, she was getting closer. Shifting on his knees new pain sparked from his foot generating a shrill squeak from him.
"Ah... I knew you were under there!" She exclaimed.
Moving closer to his spot under the booth Atticus watched her, he felt like puking now.
"Atticus what are you going to do after this?" She asked.
"Go home after describing the murder of your coworker to the police?"
She moved closer.
"Yes, you'll go home to that empty house on Mulberry Street because your parents don't stick around to be near you." She confirmed.
Atticus panted, panic shutting down his brain.
"I know exactly what you are;" She hissed at him.
"And soon everyone else will too."
A cold hand scratched at Atticus taking ahold of his long dark locks.
It was over, she won this little mind game. Dragging him out she flung the small boy against the front window. He didn't make a sound.
"I'm going to kill you Atticus." She snarled.
Anxiety tore apart what was left of Atticus's sanity. He couldn't face her, not the woman in the trench coat. The woman that murdered his own coworker and tore up her guts like a child unwrapping a present. The woman who was going to carve his limbs into gruesome artwork.
Scrape.
The ax rose.
Inhaling sharply Atticus turned around keeping dark eyes closed tight.
"I just don't know how to deal with this." He croaked.
The ax fell, and someone's laughter filled the air.
