The sun shone brightly through the glass windows of Granny's Bakery. Ally stood by the register, making sure there was enough change in the register. She eyed over the dull coins, thinking about the usual rushes that came around dinnertime. In another hour there would be a fair line of hungry patrons, eager to get their own box of cupcakes or bag of cookies. Ally smiled and shook her head. Working at the bakery wasn't particularly hard. Sure she had to keep track of inventory, create schedules, deal with difficult customers, and everything in-between, but she really wouldn't change it for the world.
A rather peculiar sparkle shone on the ground. Her curious eyes traced the beam of sunlight to the thick glass windows. She stepped up to it and placed her hand where the glass distorted the light most. It was a new hole created by a bullet. "Damn," she muttered, examining the indention. It must have been created the night before. No doubt the bullet that created this mark was a stray. Ally shook her head once more and continued looking through the register. Not many people would consider this lucky, but she did. Thank goodness the bullet wasn't able to make it through the glass, and thank goodness no one was hit.
The bell chirped just as the register shut. Ally looked up to see a man walking in, his head up high. He wore a loose jacket and had his hood placed over his head, partially blocking his face. This was not initially troubling, as many citizens of Long Beach dressed like this, even on sunny days. She smiled and put gloves on. The man went to the front, now lowering his head.
"Welcome, how may I help you?" Ally asked, grabbing a pair of tongs.
"I ordered a cake," he mumbled.
"Alright, what's the name for the order?"
"Simon," he muttered.
Ally wracked her brain. She couldn't remember anyone named Simon ordering anything. "Give me a minute, I'll check in the back." With that, she made her way into the back where one worker baked and the other swept the floor. "Is there a cake for 'Simon'?" Her coworkers shook their heads.
Still determined to make sure there wasn't any mistake, Ally moved to the storage area to make sure there was no cake. As she did this, she heard a strange grunting sound from the front and the sound of metal on metal. She peeked out from the back and saw the man, "Simon", had hopped over the counter and was attempting to break open the register! Her heart stopped and her jaw opened slightly.
"Hey!" she shouted, unaware it was her who yelled. "Get out of here!"
Simon twisted around, holding a metal hammer in his hand. The register was slightly damaged, but had not yet opened. He took another swing. Ally looked back to her coworkers and shouted, "Call the police!"
The man turned around fully. "You think I'm afraid of the police?" he screamed. She looked up and for the first time was able to see his eyes. There was an absence, but what was missing she couldn't quite say. He threw the hammer down with all of his might, cracking some of the tile on the floor. This caused Ally to throw the tongs. The metal tool hit him in the face, causing him to flinch some, but it did not stop him. He reached for his belt and pulled out a pistol. Her eyes grew wide. Nothing seemed to process through her brain as soon as see saw the gun. It was purely reaction. She needed to protect herself and her coworkers.
Simon began to pull out the pistol and she began to stretch over to stop him. They were only a few feet apart. As he lifted the gun to face-level, she lifted her hand to meet it. Within fractions of a second, she was lucky enough to get hold of his wrist and continue his motion. He passed face-level and pulled the trigger when the pistol faced the ceiling.
Ally immediately knew she was at the disadvantage. Not only was she unarmed, but he was much stronger than her. After the bullet went off, time began to speed up to normal levels. His hand was in the air and he was forcing it down. With his free hand, he grabbed her neck and squeezed. She put her hand over his hand and released her grip on his gun-holding wrist. If she thought he was strong before, he was unthinkably strong when he had all of his pressure on her neck. She knew there wasn't much she could do as she tried to pry his fingers off of herself.
The world returned to slow motion as he lowered the gun and brought it towards her head. It felt like a cruel trick. Every moment of her life seemed to go by so quickly, and yet she could watch death slowly creep forward. She squeezed her eyes closed. Sorry Grandma. Please don't watch this on the footage.
A bang went off, and yet she was unharmed. The grip on her neck released and she gasped for air. Her eyes opened to see her coworker tackling Simon on the floor. She scratched and clawed at his face. He screamed, pulled the gun up, and shot into her side.
"Jessica!" Ally shouted and dove towards the man. He shoved the crying Jessica off of him and began to get up. He sat on his hands and knees, wiping some of his own blood out of his eyes. This was her chance! She got on her own knees and grabbed the man's wrist and pushed him over. From here, she performed a standard barbed wire, taking both of his arms under her chest and twisting clock-wise until his arms were locked between both of their chests. Knowing she couldn't hold this for long, she took her chance and began to pound her fist into his face. Because of the awkward positioning and her lack of experience punching while wrestling, her punches weren't as strong as they should have been, but they kept the man at bay.
It was a nasty feeling, the feeling of her knuckles pressing into the hard skull of the man. Sure, she loved to go at the punching bag when she visited Trip's gym, but she always had hand wraps and the bag was no where near the same texture. Even sparring wasn't like this. Her knuckles pounded against the man's skull until his struggling slowed and his screaming was quieted. She was afraid to stop punching, but stopped when she heard her coworker crying and gasping for air. Ally frightfully lifted herself off of the attempted burglar who was indeed unconscious.
She quickly made her way to her coworker who was bleeding profusely from her hip. "It hurts!" Jessica said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her face.
"I know, I know," Ally said, voice shaking. She pulled off her apron and pressed it to her injured coworker's hip, hoping to slow the bleeding. She turned and yelled towards the back, "Where's the ambulance?"
"They're coming!" the worker from the back shouted.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"And they did come," Ally concluded, leaning back in the hard metal chair. Here she sat surrounded by her friends in the bright California sun. Finally each one of them had found a time where they could all meet up, relax, and talk. Naturally, Ally felt the need to recap her experience for her friends as they were main source of emotional support, other than her grandmother. "The cops came, arrested the guy, took us to the hospital, and here we are."
She put her hand over her neck. There were bruises from the attack that seemed forever ago, but only happened about a week ago. She took her hands off of her neck had noticed a bit of makeup on her fingertips. Despite her efforts, the bruises were pretty hard to conceal. "I just don't understand what makes people do what they do," she said, shaking her head, "This town is becoming worse and worse every single day."
Her eyes moved away from her fingertips and to her friends. What if it had been them in the situation? Would they have handled it differently? Would they have handled it better? Perhaps so. "Uh, well, anyway," she said, trying to brush off the conversation she brought up.
A rather peculiar sparkle shone on the ground. Her curious eyes traced the beam of sunlight to the thick glass windows. She stepped up to it and placed her hand where the glass distorted the light most. It was a new hole created by a bullet. "Damn," she muttered, examining the indention. It must have been created the night before. No doubt the bullet that created this mark was a stray. Ally shook her head once more and continued looking through the register. Not many people would consider this lucky, but she did. Thank goodness the bullet wasn't able to make it through the glass, and thank goodness no one was hit.
The bell chirped just as the register shut. Ally looked up to see a man walking in, his head up high. He wore a loose jacket and had his hood placed over his head, partially blocking his face. This was not initially troubling, as many citizens of Long Beach dressed like this, even on sunny days. She smiled and put gloves on. The man went to the front, now lowering his head.
"Welcome, how may I help you?" Ally asked, grabbing a pair of tongs.
"I ordered a cake," he mumbled.
"Alright, what's the name for the order?"
"Simon," he muttered.
Ally wracked her brain. She couldn't remember anyone named Simon ordering anything. "Give me a minute, I'll check in the back." With that, she made her way into the back where one worker baked and the other swept the floor. "Is there a cake for 'Simon'?" Her coworkers shook their heads.
Still determined to make sure there wasn't any mistake, Ally moved to the storage area to make sure there was no cake. As she did this, she heard a strange grunting sound from the front and the sound of metal on metal. She peeked out from the back and saw the man, "Simon", had hopped over the counter and was attempting to break open the register! Her heart stopped and her jaw opened slightly.
"Hey!" she shouted, unaware it was her who yelled. "Get out of here!"
Simon twisted around, holding a metal hammer in his hand. The register was slightly damaged, but had not yet opened. He took another swing. Ally looked back to her coworkers and shouted, "Call the police!"
The man turned around fully. "You think I'm afraid of the police?" he screamed. She looked up and for the first time was able to see his eyes. There was an absence, but what was missing she couldn't quite say. He threw the hammer down with all of his might, cracking some of the tile on the floor. This caused Ally to throw the tongs. The metal tool hit him in the face, causing him to flinch some, but it did not stop him. He reached for his belt and pulled out a pistol. Her eyes grew wide. Nothing seemed to process through her brain as soon as see saw the gun. It was purely reaction. She needed to protect herself and her coworkers.
Simon began to pull out the pistol and she began to stretch over to stop him. They were only a few feet apart. As he lifted the gun to face-level, she lifted her hand to meet it. Within fractions of a second, she was lucky enough to get hold of his wrist and continue his motion. He passed face-level and pulled the trigger when the pistol faced the ceiling.
Ally immediately knew she was at the disadvantage. Not only was she unarmed, but he was much stronger than her. After the bullet went off, time began to speed up to normal levels. His hand was in the air and he was forcing it down. With his free hand, he grabbed her neck and squeezed. She put her hand over his hand and released her grip on his gun-holding wrist. If she thought he was strong before, he was unthinkably strong when he had all of his pressure on her neck. She knew there wasn't much she could do as she tried to pry his fingers off of herself.
The world returned to slow motion as he lowered the gun and brought it towards her head. It felt like a cruel trick. Every moment of her life seemed to go by so quickly, and yet she could watch death slowly creep forward. She squeezed her eyes closed. Sorry Grandma. Please don't watch this on the footage.
A bang went off, and yet she was unharmed. The grip on her neck released and she gasped for air. Her eyes opened to see her coworker tackling Simon on the floor. She scratched and clawed at his face. He screamed, pulled the gun up, and shot into her side.
"Jessica!" Ally shouted and dove towards the man. He shoved the crying Jessica off of him and began to get up. He sat on his hands and knees, wiping some of his own blood out of his eyes. This was her chance! She got on her own knees and grabbed the man's wrist and pushed him over. From here, she performed a standard barbed wire, taking both of his arms under her chest and twisting clock-wise until his arms were locked between both of their chests. Knowing she couldn't hold this for long, she took her chance and began to pound her fist into his face. Because of the awkward positioning and her lack of experience punching while wrestling, her punches weren't as strong as they should have been, but they kept the man at bay.
It was a nasty feeling, the feeling of her knuckles pressing into the hard skull of the man. Sure, she loved to go at the punching bag when she visited Trip's gym, but she always had hand wraps and the bag was no where near the same texture. Even sparring wasn't like this. Her knuckles pounded against the man's skull until his struggling slowed and his screaming was quieted. She was afraid to stop punching, but stopped when she heard her coworker crying and gasping for air. Ally frightfully lifted herself off of the attempted burglar who was indeed unconscious.
She quickly made her way to her coworker who was bleeding profusely from her hip. "It hurts!" Jessica said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her face.
"I know, I know," Ally said, voice shaking. She pulled off her apron and pressed it to her injured coworker's hip, hoping to slow the bleeding. She turned and yelled towards the back, "Where's the ambulance?"
"They're coming!" the worker from the back shouted.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"And they did come," Ally concluded, leaning back in the hard metal chair. Here she sat surrounded by her friends in the bright California sun. Finally each one of them had found a time where they could all meet up, relax, and talk. Naturally, Ally felt the need to recap her experience for her friends as they were main source of emotional support, other than her grandmother. "The cops came, arrested the guy, took us to the hospital, and here we are."
She put her hand over her neck. There were bruises from the attack that seemed forever ago, but only happened about a week ago. She took her hands off of her neck had noticed a bit of makeup on her fingertips. Despite her efforts, the bruises were pretty hard to conceal. "I just don't understand what makes people do what they do," she said, shaking her head, "This town is becoming worse and worse every single day."
Her eyes moved away from her fingertips and to her friends. What if it had been them in the situation? Would they have handled it differently? Would they have handled it better? Perhaps so. "Uh, well, anyway," she said, trying to brush off the conversation she brought up.
