....1....
....Sapphire Savvron....
Sapphire; What do you do when you're feel like you're in danger? Run towards it.
My body ached as I dropped the last order of the day, my cheek throbbed from the fake smile I had plastered on since the morning.
Working in the diner always left me feeling like I had aged ten years after every shift.
I hated everything about my job, the couples, the joyous children, families celebrating.
This always made me feel like I was at the forefront of everyone's happiness but mine was nowhere to be found.
I'm always wearing a smile that never reached the eyes, this made my coworkers give me names.
Psycho, antisocial.
They said it like a joke, but the words still stuck. They didn't know how much effort it took just to exist in front of them.
I wanted to be happy. God, I tried.
But life always dragged me back under.
When the last table was cleared, I clocked out and headed for the bus stop, body heavy with exhaustion. I was supposed to leave at two, but I'd stayed three extra hours to cover for a coworker. I couldn't even complain, he'd covered for me too many times to count.
By the time I reached the bench, I was so drained that the metal felt like heaven. I sat, leaned back, and everything just slipped away.
When I opened my eyes again, I had been soaked by the rain.
I scooted toward the middle of the bench, but it was too late, my shirt clung to my skin, cold and damp.
I grabbed my phone and I gasped as soon as I saw the time.
I'd been asleep for four hours.
At a bus stop.
In the rain.
And somehow, I'd slept through everything. My next shift started in less than an hour. There was no point going home. I threw my bag over my head and ran through the downpour. Water slapped against my legs, my hair plastering to my face as my sneakers splashed through puddles.
The diner wasn't far, six minutes on foot. I made it in three heavy breathing and panting.
As soon as I reached the diner, I should have stepped back, I should have stopped, I should have given up.
Something was wrong, the back door was open and the lights were off.
Mr. Park never left things like this. He was obsessive about locking up. Seeing the diner like this was the next worst thing to me sleeping through the rain, in a bus stop.
A smarter person would have turned back.
What pushed me forward? Curiosity perhaps. Stupidity maybe.
I stepped inside and a stench hit me, a mix of copper and something almost spicy.
Then my gaze landed on the trail,
Splashes of red.
What would a person with a working brain do right now?
Turn back and get the hell away from there.
The thick smear across the tiles, leading to the kitchen, like someone had been dragged. My throat tightened, and for the first time in hours, exhaustion vanished.
I should've run, I should've called someone, but my feet moved anyway, pulled by something between fear and morbid curiosity. My steps were slow, deliberate, each squeak of my wet shoes echoing in the quiet diner.
When I reached the kitchen doorway, my heart stuttered.
Someone was there.
An impossibly good-looking guy stood in the middle of the mess, blood streaking his arms and shirt. He looked like he belonged in a glossy magazine, not in this nightmare. His hand gripped a knife, and at his feet, Mr. Park.
My body locked up, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. My brain screamed at me to run, but it was like I'd fallen out of reality.
Then he turned, a smile gracing his lips.
It was warm, charming.
So wildly out of place that my stomach twisted in confusion and something I couldn't name.
"Hi, Sapphire," he said, voice smooth and unbothered.
A blood-streaked hand lifted in a casual little wave, like we were two neighbors greeting each other and not standing in a kitchen drenched in red.
My heart tripped over itself.
He knew my name.
He knew my name?