Chapter 2 It was just after midnight when they
arrived. The van outside had a logo for a business,
unrelated to the actual business. The nameless
crew dressed in disposable coveralls. Not a single
word was exchanged. I preferred it that way.
The cleaning crew was as fast as the bullets
that killed the men. As they were finishing up,
a woman walked past the threshold of the door.
She was in her late forties, long brunette hair
rested on her shoulders. She was dressed to the
nines. As she approached me, we exchanged a look.
I didn't expect to see you here, I said. I didn't
expect to be here, she replied. You want to tell
me what happened? I was reading, she cut me off
mid -sentence. I don't give a shit about what
book you were reading. It was nice to see she
hadn't changed one bit in the ten years since
I had seen her last. Two men, mid -thirties,
both Caucasian, came knocking around six. My
security system didn't go off and the cameras
were disabled. Must have jammed the signal. Broke
in from the back door and regretted it. Did you
get anything out of them at least? She asked.
Nothing other than one saying it was just a job.
Anything else? I had my hands in my pockets and
could feel the card in my left hand. Nothing.
Next time you decide to kill some people, can
you do it on a night I don't have a date? She
said. That explained the fancy clothes and makeup.
Come outside with me. You know I can't. It's
been over a decade. You think I haven't tried?
I try every goddamn day. You used to be the best.
Now look at you. She was right. I was a fading
shadow of myself. I ignored her comment and asked,
did you guys get anything on the number I sent?
Nothing other than it came from an app. The person
used a cafe's Wi -Fi down the street. Well, keep
me updated if you find anything else. You keep
me updated as well. Goodbye, Mark. I hadn't heard
that name in a long time. The woman left me to
the silence I had become accustomed to. Sleep
called to me, and I let it take me. The next
day, I decided to take the day off work. I couldn't
focus with the thoughts spiraling in my mind.
How did they find me? Who texted me, saying they
found me? I stood looking out my living room
window, the steam of the coffee rising in my
hand. A car parked on the road, the windows tinted.
as dark as night. Despite this, I knew two people
sat watching. It was standard procedure. They
would sit there for a few, and then move on to
the next job. I made a bet they could use some
coffee. I couldn't just go out and offer them
some. I could, however, have some delivered to
their car. I'm a regular when it comes to those
gig apps. The employees know me by name. Or at
least by the name I tell them. As the morning
continued, I sat staring at my phone. The text
that read they found you dug its roots inside
my mind. I typed out multiple replies, but never
sent one. I've learned over the years you can't
trust anyone, especially someone who appears
to be helping you. I wanted to go outside. I
wanted to visit the cafe, question the employees.
The old me would have figured this out and been
back in time for dinner. I hadn't been that person
for a long time. I've heard of exposure therapy,
taking small steps until you overcome your fear.
I laughed at that thought. I used to be fear.
Now I'm overcome with it. It sticks its knife
in my brain and twists. The best I could do is
stand by the window. Beyond the glass, a world
of shadows. One where I have fading memories.
The knife cutting out the good ones. I stood
staring out into this. Still wearing the same
clothes as the night before. The card rested
in my pocket. I grabbed the card. It was standard
business size. Three and a half by two inches.
The texture rough. Possibly handmade. The address
typed in uneven faded letters. It was made from
a typewriter. An old -fashioned kind of person,
or someone who didn't want any way of being found.
The corners of the paper rounded, but no corner
was the same. The top left at 90 degrees, the
bottom right at 45. The back of the paper was
rough like the front, but something was different.
I slid my fingers across the back. Something
had been there, but was erased. I walked to my
office, grabbed a pencil, and smothered the graphite
on my finger. As I moved my finger across the
paper, it was revealed. It was another address.
One I recognized, but wasn't sure from where.
I got on my computer and searched the address
on Google. It hit me like a brick. The memories
flooding back. The green grass I mowed religiously.
The flowers. Sheep. Planted. The trauma rushing
through me. As if someone stabbed me with an
IV pic. And injected me with a lethal dose of
pain. Which worsened as each slow drip fell.
Hey you. Yeah you. Thanks for listening to this
episode of Trapped Within. If you enjoyed this
episode, make sure you follow for more and leave
us a review. It really helps us out. If you enjoyed
this episode... and want more fiction like this,
check out our website at wolfshield .media for
more podcasts, and we'll see you next time on
Trapped Within.