CHAPTER5
881 Words
Empty Cash Drawer
"Repeat that."
My voice is deep.
Not enough.
The man stays still.
He says, "Your sister," again, and he sounds as calm as ever.
Zara's fingers are tightly holding onto my shirt behind me.
I can feel it.
That wobbly, little grip.
Something inside me clicks into place. "No," I murmur.
Simple.
Got it.
Last.
His face stays the same. "You don't get what's going on." "I know enough."
I move a bit so Zara can't see him. "You're not taking her."
"We're not taking anyone," he says. "We're getting what we owe." "She's not a payment."
"She is a tool."
The word wounds him more than anything else he has spoken.
Use.
Like she's an object.
Like she doesn't care.
My fists are clenched.
I say to you, "You have to go."
Now.
He stares at me for one more second.
Then he lets out a sigh, as if he's bored. "This doesn't have to be hard."
"It's already done."
A break.
He then nods once.
"Very well."
He goes back.
I think for a moment that he is truly going to depart.
But then he drops the folder on the floor between us.
When it hits the ground, it produces a faint thud. "Five days," he says again. "What if I don't pay?" I ask, my voice shaky.
His eyes quickly move to Zara.
I don't need him to say anything. "Leave," I said.
This time he does.
One step.
Two.
He then turns around and walks out into the dark.
The door stays open behind him.
I don't move till I can't hear him anymore.
That's when I turned it off.
Put it away.
Twice.
When I lean against it, my hands shake.
Zara's voice sounds quiet behind me. "Amara..."
I swiftly turn around.
She is still there.
Still fine.
I cross the room in two steps and pull her to me.
She grips on closely. "Are they bad people?" she whispers.
I closed my eyes. "Yes."
"Will they come back?"
I thought about it twice.
Then I hold her tighter and say, "Not tonight."
That's not true.
But that's all for now.
She shakes her head.
I pull back a little and smooth her hair out of her face. "Go sit," I murmur quietly. "I'll handle it."
This time, she doesn't fight.
Just walk back to the couch slowly.
I watched her for a second longer than I should.
Then I go.
The folder is lying on the ground.
Waiting.
I see it.
Don't touch it.
Do not open it.
But my feet still work.
I bend down and grab it.
It feels heavier now.
It acts like it knows what it has.
I walk up to the counter and put it next to the register.
The same drawer I've been trying to avoid all day.
I opened it.
Nothing.
Not even cash.
Just dust.
I took a big breath.
I opened the folder after that.
The first page hits me right away.
Legal papers.
With a stamp on it.
Signed.
That's my name.
My mum is too.
And there is a clause underneath it.
In big letters.
In the event of default, the collateral will be transferred.
I feel tight in my chest. "No," I murmur in a hushed voice.
I flip the page.
Photos.
More than one.
Not simply the one I saw earlier.
These are new.
Understood.
Very sharp.
My house.
The book store.
Me.
Zara.
Walking home.
Being outside.
Laughing.
I'm frozen as I sleep.
No.
No, no, no. I shake my hands as I set the images on the counter.
"They've been keeping an eye on us," I say.
Zara glances up from the couch and says, "What?" "Nothing," I responded hurriedly. "Stay still."
My heart is racing right now.
I will take the next paper.
This one is special.
Not as much time.
More simple.
One page.
There is a notification of urgent seizure at the top.
My vision goes fuzzy for a second.
I say, "This can't be true."
But it is.
There is a signature at the end.
Sharp.
Nice.
Famous.
I have seen that before.
In the photo.
On the page.
On every bill.
Alexander Vaughn.
My heart is pounding in my chest.
He knows.
He has been a part of this.
From the very beginning.
A loud knock echoes through the store.
It's really loud.
Hard.
I stop.
Zara lets out a small gasp.
Another knock.
This time, it's stronger. "Miss Cole," says a different voice.
Not the same person as before.
This one seems like it came from the government.
I slowly move to the door.
Be careful.
It may break. "Who's there?" I ask.Let me in.
"Before I open anything, you need to tell me who you are."
A pause.
After that, "Enforcement by the court."
"Hey, I can't breathe." "What?" "We have an order."
I hold on to the handle more tightly.
No.
No, it's going too fast.
It hasn't been long at all.
"No way," I responded. "Yes, it is."
A second break.
Then I heard the words that made my blood run cold: "We're here to take the property."
Before I can do anything—
The door makes a loud noise.
The lock stops working.
The door swings open.
- Writer
