Laura 1: The Last Promise

While closing her parents' bakery for the evening, Laura's life is changed forever.

Cha-ching! went the cash register and I handed the old woman her change.

“That’s a dollar-forty. Do you want the receipt?” I tore it out of the machine and held it out to her questioningly.

“Yes, thank you dear,” she replied kindly. She awkwardly shifted the brown bag holding her bagel to under her arm in order to hold both her walking stick and her money. Her wrinkled hand quivered as she took the slip of paper from me, folding it before she slid it into her wallet and shuffled.

“Ba-bye, sweetheart!” she called on her way out.

“Have a great evening, Mrs. Whitworth,” I waved back. The bell on the door chimed and I looked up to the hanging clock. It read 6:48. Closing time was coming up. I opened the cash register again and counted out my share for the day.

I worked at my parent’s small bakery three days a week to make some extra cash, on top of regular babysitting. Of course, a percentage of it always went to paying for college, or saving up for a car, but most of it went toward buying photography equipment.

Photography was a passion of mine. I loved looking through the lens, waiting to capture that perfect picture, seizing that single solitary moment that could never have been posed or redone. It was thrilling! How some people think of mountain climbing without gear, adrenaline pulsing through their veins, is how I think of taking pictures.

I’d recently gotten a Canon EOS Rebel T4i for my birthday. It was one of the most popular DSLRs on the market, and I took it with me everywhere! I’d even tried to bring it to the bakery a few times, but my mom finally banned it.

“The customers are feeling stalked!” she’d said. “You’re not a security guard, so how about you just leave the camera in the car?”

Her argument was reasonable, but there was no way I was leaving my baby in the car. Someone could steal it! So, I developed a perfect disguise.

I kept the camera in it’s case (safety first) and put the whole thing in a shoe box. It was a bit of a tight fit, but if I left the lid on loosely, then there wasn’t a problem. So, it was a win-win all around - the customers no longer felt tailed, Mom’s blood pressure didn’t spike, and my camera was safe.

Now I was eager to get back to it. I was sorely tempted to rush through the cleaning, and just bolt out the door! But, I knew that not doing things properly the first time would only result in me doings over and over again until I did do it properly.

With that in mind, I placed all of the money neatly in the slots, and sorted the change. I was nearly finished when my mom came dashing out of the back room.

My mother was relatively young, being twenty-five years older than her fifteen year old daughter. But she didn’t act like it, per se. Looking at her back length, straight brown hair, crystal blue eyes, slim figure, mile-long legs, and keen sense of fashion, you’d think she was a ‘party mom.’

In truth, she was a very diligent worker, and expected her children to be the same. She and Dad both believed that being a good parent involved not letting your kids simply sit around all day, playing on the iPad or watching Netflix. By the time we were ten, we were expected to be mother’s helpers. When we reached twelve, you had to get into the actual babysitting business. Fourteen meant either working at the grocery store as a bagger, or doing time in the bakery.

Despite how it sounds, working wasn’t all that bad. I made a lot more money than my friends, and I learned how to spend it properly. Again, that’s something that a lot of kids don’t learn how to do until they get to college. Thanks to my parent’s beliefs on having a good work ethic and being wise with your money, I won’t be thousands of dollars in debt by the time I finish college.

“Hey honey!” my mom greeted, struggling to balance while pulling on a silver high heel. She wore a black, spaghetti strapped dress that reached just above the knees. Her hair was done in a classic up-do, and wore simple diamonds as her jewelry. “I totally forgot about my date with your dad. I’m gonna be late if I don’t leave now! Would you mind closing up for the day?”

I shrugged. Closing wasn’t a hard job; it was really only tidying and locking up. Easy-peasy! “Sure, Mom.”

She sighed gratefully. “Thank you sweetheart! Be sure to label tomorrow’s sales, and flip the sign on your way out.” She slipped in some earrings, snatched up her purse from a wooden chair, and made her way to the door. “I’ll see you when I get, darling! Oh! and there’s pizza you and Katherine can heat up for dinner, ‘kay?”

“Alright,” I acknowledged. “Have fun tonight, Mom! You deserve it. We’ll be fine.” My mom turned and before I knew it, her arms were around me, her lips against my hair.

“Oh, I know you will. I love you so much! Mwah!” With one last kiss, she was out the door, her long hair flowing behind her.

I sighed and slumped onto my stool before going to the back room to grab a broom and dustpan. I crossed the threshold and was instantly reminded of why I didn’t enjoy clean up. The whole room was stocked with cleaning supplies, including all kinds of chemicals and solutions, all of which made my nose hairs burn. Desperate to get in and get out, I scrambled to find what I needed.

Unfortunately, my speed combined with my unavoidable clumsiness resulted in me tripping over my own two feet. I landed sprawled out on floor. For some reasons I couldn’t explain, the smell was even worse from the ground!

I got up slowly, cursing myself for being such a klutz. Once back on my feet, I was briefly tempted to take it as fate, lock up and go home.

Honestly, Laura! I mentally scolded myself. Stop acting like a baby and just do it! You left laziness behind a long time ago. So with slouched shoulders, I made my way over the broom bucket (without falling, this time) and gripped the handle, ready to give it a nice tug. I pulled and to my dismay, it was stuck.

Exasperation was quickly boiling into anger as I put my right foot on the edge of the bucket and tugged again. And again. And again. Finally, on the fifth try, the broom came free. But since I had been heaving with most of my strength, I flew backward with the sudden lack of resistance and this time, fell right on my backside!

“OW!” I yelped. “Gosh darn it, if I fall one more time ...”

I took my time getting up and gathering the rest of my supplies. When I was walking out of that terrible room, I heard the chime on the door. Without looking up I said,

“Hello, welcome to Sweet Confections. My name is Laura. We’re close to closing, but I’d be happy to help you in any way-”

My speech was cut short by a hand clamping over my mouth and nose, forcing me to breath in the rancid odor of a cloth. I screamed and tried to wrestle my way free, but to no avail. As my mind began to slip away, and I realized what my fate was to be, my thoughts turned to my family.

I thought about my parents, kind and caring, always wanting nothing but the best for me. I swore I could feel the pressure of my father’s lips against my hair.

Or was that just my pounding headache?

I could see my mom’s sparkling sapphire eyes eagerly searching my face, waiting for me to spill the beans about my day before we had to get to work. I could hear our shrill giggles as we exchanged stories!

Or was that my screaming?

So many more images and memories raced past my eyes, like a clips of a movie played on fast-forward. There was everything - every laugh, every sigh. Every tear, and every goodbye. Each of my achievements and every one of my regrets. There were a lot of those.

Adding flame to the pitiful, pointless arguments. The occasional rudeness or complaining.

Saying Off when our dog jumped on me as I walked through the door.

Choosing sports.

Closing the bedroom door.

Not saying I love you as he left for work.

Not saying Thank you when I came home to a made bed.

Not being good enough. No. Not being better.

Every single one of these memories put a splinter on my heart. This went on for only half a minute at most, but the agony it caused me seemed to go on and on for lifetimes. Lifetimes I now would never live.

Soon, there was only one small section untouched by the painful wood of the past. However, the relief it brought was instantly smashed under a boot as one last image came to me.

Katherine.

I saw her in full clarity. Her bouncy brown curls, her glittering gray eyes, and her contagious, crooked smile. She was childish and youthful. She was my other half. For only a fraction of a second, I smiled at the thought of her. Then, I began to worry.

Who would make her dinner tonight? Who would help her with her math homework? Who would keep her safe from the storm? Of course, she was twelve now, and wasn’t nearly as dependent on me as I now thought, but being in this situation, being at the end of the line, made me feel as if I had failed as a sister. Would I ever be able to make it up to her?

As I thought about not seeing her again, about not being able to right all of my wrongs, not being able to apologize ... it broke me.

A sob escaped my cloth-covered lips. The drugs finally began to take hold on my mind, my body slowly and involuntarily relaxing into my captor’s iron grip. I spent my last few seconds of consciousness seeing her face, studying it, memorizing every solitary feature. The black curtain of fate draped over my mind and I came to a decision.

No matter what happened. No matter where I was taken, or what I was put through, I, Laura Alessandra Grifith, solemnly swore that I would remember. I would remember my mother, father, home, life.

I would remember Katherine.

And someday, with those faces and images carved into my head, I would make it back. To here, to them, to her, I would return.

I would make it back.

Author's Note

Does it grab your emotions?

Reviews

[zach h.]

First of all, this story has a really good voice. It is easy to connect to the character (Laura), and I loved the fact that it had a twist right of the bat. I wasn't expecting what happened in the least, so well done with that.
If you are looking for revision advise, I would say to maybe shorten the early part of the chapter. I'm not sure where you are going next, but it is always good to start off with a solid punch in the story. So by moving up how soon the reader gets to the kidnapping (or what we assume is that) the better. Put just enough that we understand what is happening in the story and then get to the heart pounding moments. Her back story can always be filtered in as the story continues. Also, there is a slight disconnect after the rag goes over her mouth. I understand that she is starting to feel the effects of the drug, but it jumps from the action into thoughts, which is a really nice effect, but my suggestion would be to add things that she might be seeing or feeling while she is laying on the ground in between her thought process to bring the reader back to the gravity of the situation.
Now, with that being said, I really did enjoy the chapter. I hope that my comments are helpful to you and not discouraging in any way. Feel free to take any of the advice, or completely ignore all if it. That is the greatest thing about writing, YOU can make it anyway that you see fit, no matter what other people thing. Best of luck!
p.s. FYI, there are a few grammatical errors. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a quick read over the chapter.