Be Alright

Three

Three: Just Friends

My stomach is twisting in knots and my throats feels tight. The air in the room seemed colder as goosebumps began to form on my arms. I don't cry. I could, but I don't.

I listen closely to the news anchors voice as he stands in front of the bar I was just at two nights ago; the bar where all my friends and I visited every week. His stern voice continues talking, giving details about the murders taken place.

Three dead.

"This is crazy," Haley whispers, her voice shaky as fear has already taken over.

We lived in a small town. Murders rarely happened, but when they did, it was usually over drugs or theft. Not premeditated murder on a bar that everyone loved.

I bite on my bottom lip as pictures of the deceased showed on the screen.

The owner of Joeli's, Joeli himself, dead. The bartender who occasionally flirted with me when I was the one who had to get the groups drink, dead. The security man who never even bothered checking my ID anymore after my many nights there, dead.

It seemed surreal.

That's not it, either. Three dead and two severely injured from gun shot wounds. It may not even be just three. At any second now the toll could go to four or five.

It was a scary thought.

I knew I would be busy at work tomorrow. Maybe it was a good thing I had the day off. Either way, the station is going to be chaos for the next few days.

"Text Jace and tell him to come over when he gets off," I tell Haley.

Usually we argue who has to text Jace first, and usually I am always the one who has to do it, but this time it's different. Typically, Haley throws in the argument about how I know him better and how I have known him longer and that we're closer. She makes good points. I just wish she didn't make them when I am trying to get my way.

"Octavia, you don't think it was planned do you? It could have been a robbery," She says, trying to convince me that the situation was not as severe as it was.

"It could have been a robbery. Jace will know," I rationalize, finally sitting on the couch beside her.

I immediately go to picking at the nail polish on my fingernails. I had just painted them not even a couple of hours ago, but I knew a coping method to the anxiety I was feeling over this horrible event was much needed. It was either picking the nail polish off or biting my nails off completely. I prefer having to paint my nails constantly over having no nails at all.

I can feel Haley's eyes burning a whole at me, probably staring at the nails I am ruining.

I know why she is concerned. I haven't been working at the station long. It hasn't even been long enough to deal with anyone 'interesting.' Just the usual robbers and drug addicts. A murderer? That's completely different.

I would have to interview a murderer. Someone who was capable of killing three men at once.

That's if they catch him alive, if at all.