I stroll around for a little while, looking for an approachable woman. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an old lady carrying two sack-fulls of apples, one in each hand. "Baking pies, much?" I try to start up a conversation, but I probably come out sounding rude.
"Making juice, my dear," she turns to a full halt and faces me. I make sure Apollo is covering 100% of my visage.
"Oh, really? Well, I was just looking for a dress here in this lovely market." She seems untouched. "My adorable little brother muddied up my favorite outfit, the one my dead mom gave me. My grandpa wanted me to find a nice dress, but everything here is so out of my price range." She still covers any emotions with a rock hard expression. "It's just that I was helping my little brother, when he needed to learn how to fight... against my dad, who we think may hit his girlfriend. And... I need the dress so I can go to church tomorrow and teach Spanish to little kids afterward."
"Perhaps... I may have something." Instead of sad for me, however, she looks more annoyed than when I first met her. Slowly but surely, she takes me back to her little home in the middle of absolute nowhere. I gulp. This was a big mistake.
I glance around, looking at many individual black and white portraits of people, all hung on the wall in a diagonal line traveling up her rusty staircase, which is covered in red carpet with blue and yellow patterning. Through the house, plants in black pots which look like they haven't been watered in months. I see a ginger cat, looking thin and starved. "Oh, that's just Honeycomb," her creaky voice says, matching her creaky house.
I uncover my face just a bit to see how Apollo is reacting to this home straight out of a horror film. Surely enough, he looks terrified. Apollarmed, I think, I should tell that to Bree when I get back. If I get back. I clear my head. No. When I get back.
I notice and can't look away from one of the only colored pictures in her house. A large shrine dedicated to a young man in a cop's uniform. "Who's that?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"My grandson, my dear. He died in his services as a respectable police officer. The poor lad had done so much and he was much too young. He was killed by a horrible teenager who stole his gun! Like a hooligan! Can you believe such a thing?" Her dark circles stood out from underneath her eyes.
Conner, I think immediately. "Oh, I just can't imagine. Was it recent?"
"Yes," she opened a drawer and started searching through pink clothes. "This past week, in fact. A series of fires had begun, and he went to try and stop the arsonists." She softly stops and rests her hand on her chest. "Oh, my little Ray, such a brave boy." A tear slips from her face. She shudders, then pulls out a particularly vibrant piece. "I do believe this will fit you, honey. You may try it on in the bathroom right over there." She points to a small door immediately next to the shrine.
"Actually, I think I better head out. You know, time flies." I giggle nervously. "But, I'm sorry for your loss. Do you perhaps know the name of the shooter?"
"The paper said he was identified as Conner Findlay and with a terrible group of children. He was trying to save a miserably ugly little girl. But, luckily, the idiot is dead now. And dead men tell no tales, so we will never know his true intentions," she laughs through her morbid phrases.
By then, I have already begun walking down the stairs. Until Apollo squirms in my arms, revealing my 'miserably ugly' face.
"You!" she points with her shaky, shriveled hands. "You're the reason my poor grandson got shot!"
I cover my face with Apollo again and begin rushing down the stairs faster. "I... I have no idea what you're referring to, ma'am. I've never heard of Conner Findlay before in my life." I feel bad for disrespecting Conner, but something tells me it's better off if I say that.
"Why, I'd recognize your hideous features anywhere, you spoiled child! A lad comes into your rescue to kill my grandson and you have the audacity to say you don't know anything about it? You don't even put in a prayer to my shrine!" She performs a waddled run to me, a wooden stick from the floor in her hand. Something sparks in me, and I run down the stairs faster than I've ever run before.
"I'm calling the police," she bawls as I slam the heavy wooden door on my way out.
Even after I'm past the market and far away from her house, I keep running. Fast. As fast as my short legs could ever carry me. I don't even feel any pain or any difficulty in running, carrying Apollo, and clutching the dress. All my brain thinks is, move, and my entire body follows. Once I've ran down the market halfway to the middle of nowhere, which is where I need to meet everyone, I force myself to stop before I get lost.
It's in that moment my legs fall underneath me and I feel my wind being knocked out. I lay on the floor with Apollo crying in my right arm and a purple dress in my left. I try to stop myself, but my eyes lock shut. I scream internally to wake up, but my body doesn't budge. My eyes won't even open enough for me to see if there is anyone around me. My hands won't tighten enough to keep Apollo, or the dress, stuck with me while I rest.
I feel a slight breeze pull the dress out of my hands, and Apollo chases it. No, I think, but no one hears. Stop that, but still, nothing budges. Apollo leaves my hearing range, and I officially lose consciousness.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
