A piece of the story...part 11

 Another piece of my story, at last! I know that what I have posted so far needs a TON of editing and fixing, but I was wondering what you all thought of the pacing. (and not the pace at which I post the story lol) Is the plot going too slowly, too fast, or just the right pace? Anyway, let's get to the story!

Chapter Five

Intrigue filled me, wondering at Tara’s cryptic words. She had shown up at the bakery, trying to act nonchalant, but I could sense the excitement that bubbled up within her. She had leaned against the counter and, with a twinkle in her eyes, told me to meet her in the ballroom at exactly six-o-clock. After I begged for a hint as to what the surprise was, she mentioned that dinner would be provided. Then, as if a last-minute thought, she suggested that I wear something nice.

I stood in front of the cracker mirror in the hallway of the apartment building I lived in, debating with myself whether or not to wear my new dress from Henry. It sure was beautiful. But would it be appropriate for the surprise? I had no idea how “nice” Tara had meant. She could have just meant something nicer and cleaner than my flour-stained apron and hand-me-down dress. But then again, it would be better to be overdressed than underdressed. I looked thoughtfully at my reflection.

“My! You look swell. What’s the occasion?”

I turned to see a man who I assumed lived farther down the hallway. He appeared to be waiting for me to move. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

He smiled as he moved past, but when he was directly across from me, his smile almost turned menacing. I shivered involuntarily at the memory of the last time I had seen a smile like that. I had barely been twelve. A man had stormed into my mother’s apartment, clearly angry and ready to get revenge for something my mother had done. He had grabbed at her, hurting her, as her screams and sobs filled the room.

A tear streaked down my cheek as I pushed away the memory, knowing how it would end, but willing it to be different. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and took a final look at myself in the mirror. It would have to do. The former excitement of anticipation began to once again coarse through my veins and I pushed my miseries back where they belonged: in the past. I hurriedly grabbed my handbag and locked up my apartment.

Tara hadn’t mentioned anything about picking me up, so walking would have to do. I turned my face to the sun when I walked out of the door of the apartment building, relishing the warmth of the early summer evening. It was prime time for people to be getting off of work, and the sidewalks were even busier than usual. Even though no one actually seemed to notice, I felt like the odd one in the crowd, being a party dress in a sea of business attire. I laughed at myself for being so insecure.

This, of course, brought curious glances my way. But I didn’t care. It was one of those days where you just felt happy to be alive. Like you were exactly where you were supposed to be; like you had your whole life ahead of you and a world of adventure just waiting for you to take the first step. Like, no matter what darkness lay in your past, there was a bright future filled with hope. And then I noticed the clock that stood on the front wall of the bank and realized I had spent too much time basking in the glorious feel of the sun and was running late. I opted to take a shortcut that, though I had rarely, if ever, taken, I knew would carve off at least ten minutes of the walk.

I hurried down an alley that blocked the light of the sun, instead showing dark shadows of the large office buildings around it. The deeper I walked into it, this dark cave of questions, the more insecure I felt. Like in any alley, large piles of garbage lined the brick walls and I may or may not have spotted something rat-like scurrying underneath a pile of junk. And that’s when I noticed the man.

He was a ways behind me, but he was clearly following me. A baseball cap was low on his head so that I could not see his eyes, but I could tell that he had dark hair from the mop that brushed against the collar of his leather jacket. I quickened my steps, but from what I could tell from the echoes against the buildings, so did he.

I started to run then, as he quickly began to gain on me. I made the mistake of looking back at the man’s running figure, now mere feet from me, so that I didn’t see the pile of garbage blocking the way. I fell against the hard pavement, twisting my ankle on the way down. Sensing defeat, I pushed my back against the wall, wincing at the pain in my ankle, and looked the man square in the eye.

“What do you want from me?” I asked boldly, locking my jaw.

“Where is it?” The man stood over me now, his menacing snarl looking down on me. And that’s when I recognized it...the man from the hallway!

“Where is what?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Cassie.” He spat out my name and pressed a boot against my swelling ankle. Lightly at first, but with the threat of more. “Now tell me where it is!”

“How do you know my name?” At that, the boot lowered a fraction and I gasped in pain. “I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The man grasped my wrist and pulled me up to standing. I balanced on one foot to keep pressure off my pulsing foot. “Well, then. I guess we’ll just have to help you remember, won’t we?” He snarled his face inches from mine.

TO BE CONTINUED...