Don't Let It In by Brandon Faircloth

Author:Brandon Faircloth [Faircloth, Brandon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-14T22:00:00+00:00

Time Travel for Killers

When I was twelve, my mom got too drunk and left me at the afterschool program. I say it like it only happened once, but it was actually a pretty common thing until she finally sobered up the month I left for college. But the time I’m talking about, a gray day in October when I had just turned twelve, always stood out to me.

By five o’clock I knew she wasn’t coming, so I walked the mile to the bus station to wait until the 5:30 bus came by. It was a hassle, but I knew the way home well enough, and it was a lot easier to get back on my own than deal with her icy silence and glares that night if I’d called and woken her up. Besides, if left undisturbed, she might not get up till eight or nine, which meant hours of my pick for t.v. and dealer’s choice for dinner.

I reached the bus stop about 5:20 and was glad to find the bench empty. I wasn’t too worried about strangers generally, but sometimes there were older kids looking to push someone around or some homeless guy you had to keep an eye on the whole time like he was a strange dog that might decide to bite. So having the bench all to myself was a relief.

“It’s different than it’s supposed to be.”

I jumped and looked toward the voice with widening eyes, surprised to find a middle-aged woman sitting next to me on the bench. I hadn’t heard her come up at all, much less sit down, and when I jerked my head around, she didn’t even seem to notice I was there. Dark, grey-streaked hair pulled back in a tight bun and lips drawn down in a quivering scowl, she was like a character from that old Ichabod Crane story. Not because she was dressed old-fashioned, because she wasn’t, but more just the way she looked and carried herself—thin and gawky, fidgety and yet somehow dignified, she reminded me of a strange, out-of-place bird as she stared out with an expression that was both blank and searching. I was about to look away and try to stay quiet when she rolled her large green eyes in my direction.

“Can you tell me when it is?”

Flinching slightly, I nodded, looking down at my digital wristwatch. It had been my birthday gift the week before, and the plastic strap was already starting to crack, but it kept good time. “Um, it’s 5:24.” Swallowing, I added “Ma’am” to the end, like an offering to some unknown god I wanted to pass on by without further incident or conversation.

Instead of satisfying her, it just seemed to agitate her further. “No, no, stupid boy. The date. What is the day, month, and year?”

I glanced around as I studiously avoided reacting to her odd question. I’d seen this before. Some nutjob wanting someone to listen or maybe scream at, just looking for you to take a slight interest or trigger them in some inscrutable way.

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