Broken: A Pieces of One Novella by SVC Ricketts

Author:SVC Ricketts [Ricketts, SVC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pieces of One novella
Publisher: SVC Ricketts
Published: 2015-12-22T23:00:00+00:00

LIKE A TOTAL idiot, I again deviate from going directly home and packing a bag. That was my original intention before I made the stupid decision to listen to my stomach.

I pull up and park in front of the three-story office building a few blocks from my place and look up sighing. The place looks run down and abandoned, but I guess that’s intentional.

Don’t do this, Xan-man. I’m telling you, stay out of it. You can’t help her. You can’t save her. And there isn’t anything you can do to help her family. Go home, pack a bag, and move on.

Of course I don’t listen to the logical advice I’m giving myself and get out of my car with heavy legs. Leaning against the car door, I scrub my face knowing I’m going to regret this. But I’ll regret it even more if something were to happen to Trista’s mom. Those folks need some kind of closure.

Stepping up to the building’s filthy double doors, I give one side a yank on the handle; it’s locked. I cup my eyes to look through the grime and peer inside, but the glass is tinted with a cheap gold mirrored film so I can’t see shit. Dusting my hands off on my jeans, I look around to see if there is any other way in. I don’t see one, but in the corner of one of the window panes, I see a small circle with red light flashing next to it. Huh.

After banging a few times on the door, I look up at the camera, but nothing happens. An idea comes to mind so I go back to my car. I search the glove compartment and the center console for any scrap of paper and a pen, then scribble a note.

I hope this fucking works or I’m going to break down that door.

Holding the first note up to the camera’s view, I wait. Nothing.

Makes me wonder if anyone is in there watching me. Maybe they’re laughing at my chicken scratch, reading the note that says,

“Need to talk to Dawson or Pulson.”

I pull out the second and hold it up to the camera.

“Open the fucking door or I will drive my car into this”

And the third note.

“building and draw attention to your ass!”

There was only a small notepad in my center console so I had to write a few notes to say what I had to say.

Dropping my arms, I wait a few more seconds for a response of some kind. Again, nothing happens. Dread creeps up from my stomach.

Fuck. I love my car.

Crumpling up the notes, emphatically and pissed off-like, I throw them to the ground and turn away from the camera. I only get two dramatic, slow steps toward my car and I hear a click from behind me. I’m beyond relieved and ever so grateful to see the door slightly ajar.

Holy shit, that was close!

Dust dances in the beam of sunlight that follows me in. The building smells like ancient dust and even older mold.

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