I Think I'll Be Alright
One-Shot
“This place smells like a hospital.” My mother looks at me blankly. Ok, so maybe this isn’t the time or place for small talk. I sit quietly, thinking about what I had just stated. It’s the same linoleum floors. Maybe they use the same cleaning products? My voice comes out smooth and calm, but my legs feel like jelly. I’m worried that I will fall when I am asked to stand. But I think I’ll be alright.
He comes out from behind the ‘counter’, and I can’t help but find myself staring at his gun. I know I have done nothing wrong, but the feeling of guilt passes over me. I shouldn’t even have to be here.
“Hi, I’m Stephen Haner. Can I get your name?” The man seems nice, but likes to get straight to the point.
“Katherine Maree Moriarty.”
“Age?”
“Seventeen.”
The questions continue. I feel as if I am the one that’s in trouble. He starts to write down the details, and I take this moment to look around the room. It’s nothing like the movies. I had expected mirrors that acted as glass, people watching from the other side, video cameras and a tape recorder. But the room has a tall bookcase, filled with stuffed toys and books. It is painted in a nice colour, and there are a few pot plants. It really surprises me, and suddenly I feel more like a child, clutching my bag to myself, playing with the small keyring that my friend gave to me to stop the tears.
“So, can you tell me what happened?” And that’s when everything came back.
I’m standing there, chatting when I look up and see her running towards me, fist in the air. I’m frozen to the spot, knowing what will happen. The death threats, the rude remarks that had been thrown around earlier make me expect it. I think deep down maybe I don’t really think she will do it. But it happens. A mess of stray punches, bad hair dye and incoherent swears. Head. Chest. Head. Stomach. Head. A raised fist, a miss, and I run. I turn as I run through the door, and I see her. She is a bull, foot grazing the ground, getting ready to run at the nearest object. Unfortunately, I’m wearing red. I brace myself, what more can I do? There’s people around, but most just stare in shock. And then he comes. He runs, pushing her in the side, causing her to stumble down a few meters. He runs in, grabs my arm, and drags me, my body going with him. I have no control. I don’t know what to do. Tears threaten to fall. From pain, from shock, from being scared, I do not know. ‘Don’t let them fall, don’t let them fall…’ is repeated over and over in my head. I look up and notice we’re on the escalator. Shocked, we’re heading down to the cinema, and I look at him.
“It’s quite here; they won’t care if I go into the bathroom with you.” He must have noticed my confusedness, as he pulls me close and wipes the tears from my eyes, which I hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
A tissue is dabbed at my cheeks, and a hand rubbed on my back. I feel so safe with him, but it is that moment that I realise my head hurts. My chest hurts. A lot. I worry a bit about a bruise, and am grateful she did not get my face.
“I don’t want to go back up…”
He nods, understanding and taking my hand yet again. He is younger than me, but is stronger on an emotional level. The lift ride is silent and awkward, and I have an irrational fear that when the doors open, she will be standing there, waiting for me. But that doesn’t happen. Paranoia sets in, and everyone with bleach blonde hair is a threat. I will myself not to cry, not to run, not to be scared.
He squeezes my hand. A silent gesture just to let me know everything will be alright. I can’t help but feel comforted by this. My mind drifts back to what just happened. It seems so surreal. The punches, the cries of encouragement from her friends, who still remain faceless to me.
Someone rushes over to me, and I freeze.
“I’m so sorry about my sister. Are you ok?” It’s Leah. I unfreeze, but am still in shock. “Your sister? She didn’t do anything…” I look at him, as if looking for confirmation, and he looks uncomfortable, as does Leah.
“She was screaming out encouragement. Screaming out for her to go. I’m so sorry… I don’t know what’s happened to her.”
I think this hurts more than my head and my chest. I can’t stop the tears from falling, and Leah hugs me, whispering nothings in my ear. I mumble an acceptance of the apology and keep walking forward. I know where I want to go.
I’ve wiped my eyes, but the puffiness and redness still remains. We approach the shop, which remains empty, aside from the worker, Zach. He turns around with that beautiful smile.
“Hey guys. I haven’t seen you in- Oh my, Katherine! Are you ok?!”
I nod and he looks at me warily.
“Come and sit down if you want. We have a stool, you can calm down or have a drink or anything really.” I smile at his kindness.
“I think I’ll be alright.”
It’s not until a kiss on the forehead, a tight hug and a few encouraging words that we leave, me clutching a plush toy on a keyring that Zack gave to me.
He looks at me, and holds my arms, as if he is afraid to let go.
“Everything will be fine, I promise. Call me, please.” I hear the concern in his voice.
And I say the five words which I’d stated before, and truly mean.
“I think I’ll be alright.”
I finish up the story, and he nods.
“So, you don’t plan on going to the emergency room and sitting there for hours?”
“No…” I reply, uncertain as to why that was relevant.
“Ok, because if you were in that much pain, I’d want you to press charges. You would have no choice.”
My heart skips a beat. If I press charges, she will know it’s me. Her friends… they won’t be afraid to hurt me. To kill me even. One carries a blade in her bra. I silently hope she falls on it.
“I’d really rather not… I’m scared.”
He has a look on his face which makes me think I’m not the first person to say that.
“Well here’s my card. If anything more happens or you change your mind, give me a call.”
I think my parents are more scared than me. No one expects their teenage girl to be involved with the police. And I think it may have been more of a shock to them that I rang, swearing through my sobs, and they had to listen to the story from his perspective.
And a handshake later, it’s all over. My childlike innocence still intact, as I clutch the bag still, wishing for a teddy. Wishing for a mother’s hug to make this all go away. But I know it won’t be the end.
He comes out from behind the ‘counter’, and I can’t help but find myself staring at his gun. I know I have done nothing wrong, but the feeling of guilt passes over me. I shouldn’t even have to be here.
“Hi, I’m Stephen Haner. Can I get your name?” The man seems nice, but likes to get straight to the point.
“Katherine Maree Moriarty.”
“Age?”
“Seventeen.”
The questions continue. I feel as if I am the one that’s in trouble. He starts to write down the details, and I take this moment to look around the room. It’s nothing like the movies. I had expected mirrors that acted as glass, people watching from the other side, video cameras and a tape recorder. But the room has a tall bookcase, filled with stuffed toys and books. It is painted in a nice colour, and there are a few pot plants. It really surprises me, and suddenly I feel more like a child, clutching my bag to myself, playing with the small keyring that my friend gave to me to stop the tears.
“So, can you tell me what happened?” And that’s when everything came back.
I’m standing there, chatting when I look up and see her running towards me, fist in the air. I’m frozen to the spot, knowing what will happen. The death threats, the rude remarks that had been thrown around earlier make me expect it. I think deep down maybe I don’t really think she will do it. But it happens. A mess of stray punches, bad hair dye and incoherent swears. Head. Chest. Head. Stomach. Head. A raised fist, a miss, and I run. I turn as I run through the door, and I see her. She is a bull, foot grazing the ground, getting ready to run at the nearest object. Unfortunately, I’m wearing red. I brace myself, what more can I do? There’s people around, but most just stare in shock. And then he comes. He runs, pushing her in the side, causing her to stumble down a few meters. He runs in, grabs my arm, and drags me, my body going with him. I have no control. I don’t know what to do. Tears threaten to fall. From pain, from shock, from being scared, I do not know. ‘Don’t let them fall, don’t let them fall…’ is repeated over and over in my head. I look up and notice we’re on the escalator. Shocked, we’re heading down to the cinema, and I look at him.
“It’s quite here; they won’t care if I go into the bathroom with you.” He must have noticed my confusedness, as he pulls me close and wipes the tears from my eyes, which I hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
A tissue is dabbed at my cheeks, and a hand rubbed on my back. I feel so safe with him, but it is that moment that I realise my head hurts. My chest hurts. A lot. I worry a bit about a bruise, and am grateful she did not get my face.
“I don’t want to go back up…”
He nods, understanding and taking my hand yet again. He is younger than me, but is stronger on an emotional level. The lift ride is silent and awkward, and I have an irrational fear that when the doors open, she will be standing there, waiting for me. But that doesn’t happen. Paranoia sets in, and everyone with bleach blonde hair is a threat. I will myself not to cry, not to run, not to be scared.
He squeezes my hand. A silent gesture just to let me know everything will be alright. I can’t help but feel comforted by this. My mind drifts back to what just happened. It seems so surreal. The punches, the cries of encouragement from her friends, who still remain faceless to me.
Someone rushes over to me, and I freeze.
“I’m so sorry about my sister. Are you ok?” It’s Leah. I unfreeze, but am still in shock. “Your sister? She didn’t do anything…” I look at him, as if looking for confirmation, and he looks uncomfortable, as does Leah.
“She was screaming out encouragement. Screaming out for her to go. I’m so sorry… I don’t know what’s happened to her.”
I think this hurts more than my head and my chest. I can’t stop the tears from falling, and Leah hugs me, whispering nothings in my ear. I mumble an acceptance of the apology and keep walking forward. I know where I want to go.
I’ve wiped my eyes, but the puffiness and redness still remains. We approach the shop, which remains empty, aside from the worker, Zach. He turns around with that beautiful smile.
“Hey guys. I haven’t seen you in- Oh my, Katherine! Are you ok?!”
I nod and he looks at me warily.
“Come and sit down if you want. We have a stool, you can calm down or have a drink or anything really.” I smile at his kindness.
“I think I’ll be alright.”
It’s not until a kiss on the forehead, a tight hug and a few encouraging words that we leave, me clutching a plush toy on a keyring that Zack gave to me.
He looks at me, and holds my arms, as if he is afraid to let go.
“Everything will be fine, I promise. Call me, please.” I hear the concern in his voice.
And I say the five words which I’d stated before, and truly mean.
“I think I’ll be alright.”
I finish up the story, and he nods.
“So, you don’t plan on going to the emergency room and sitting there for hours?”
“No…” I reply, uncertain as to why that was relevant.
“Ok, because if you were in that much pain, I’d want you to press charges. You would have no choice.”
My heart skips a beat. If I press charges, she will know it’s me. Her friends… they won’t be afraid to hurt me. To kill me even. One carries a blade in her bra. I silently hope she falls on it.
“I’d really rather not… I’m scared.”
He has a look on his face which makes me think I’m not the first person to say that.
“Well here’s my card. If anything more happens or you change your mind, give me a call.”
I think my parents are more scared than me. No one expects their teenage girl to be involved with the police. And I think it may have been more of a shock to them that I rang, swearing through my sobs, and they had to listen to the story from his perspective.
And a handshake later, it’s all over. My childlike innocence still intact, as I clutch the bag still, wishing for a teddy. Wishing for a mother’s hug to make this all go away. But I know it won’t be the end.