The Red Thread by Bryan Ellis Read Free Book Online

told a soul about him or about our three bizarre encounters in one day. I haven’t been able to get his face out of my head, especially those icy blue eyes. They were so light and had a grayish hue to them. His eyes reminded me of the ocean during a storm. As I stand in the bookshop, I have the door in view, and I wish more than anything to see him walk through the door, so I can look into his magnificent eyes and drown in them once again.
    It’s a slow day as usual, and hardly anyone comes through the door. Jill is working today at the cash register, and I’m working my way through the aisles just to make sure everything is where it should be. Roger is in today. He’s asleep on one of the chairs. Peter is too hungover to even realize that Roger is in here. Jill and I let Roger sleep, feeling sympathy for the man, who must be cold from the autumn nights. I really do hope he finds a warm place to sleep at night.
    The jingle of the bell resonates through the quiet little shop, and my head instantly turns toward the door, feeling hopeful, my heart pounding and my mind praying to see his face. To my chagrin, I see that it isn’t Adam. Instead it’s a woman with gray hair and a body made mostly of fat rolls, and her “skinny as a rake but totally not anorexic”—or so she says—daughter coming in. The woman is Mrs. Rattree, pronounced the way it looks, Rat-Tree, and her daughter is Charlotte. Their eyes turn toward me, and I watch as they whisper to each other. I look away, trying to ignore them, but I can’t escape their staring eyes. I catch Mrs. Rattree staring down at my arms, and I look away from her prying eyes. I dig my fingernails in my skin, feeling itchy all over. Mrs. Rattree continues to stare, as does her bitch of a teenage daughter. And trust me, I know she’s a bitch; I graduated with her. I want to look away. I want to not care, but it doesn’t work that way. I wish for them to leave, but they don’t move. I just watch as their lips move, with their fake stage whispers, but I hear every word.
    “Did you see his scars?”
    “Yes, Mom. They’re disgusting.”
    “How could such a young man destroy his body like that?”
    “Who knows? I’d never do that to myself. It’d ruin my skin.”
    “If you did that to yourself, I’d lock you up like him.”
    I hear their low cruel chuckles, and I continue to scratch away at my arms, underneath their scrutinizing eyes. My body feels like it is on fire. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, turning them bright red. I continue scratching, but I can’t get rid of the itch. I dig deeper, but the itch is still there. Their voices sound in my head like an alarm. Disgusting. Jill looks up, and I see the anger flare behind her dark brown eyes. Her slanted bright blue bangs fall into one of her eyes.
    “Is there anything I can help you with?”
    “Oh no, dear.” Mrs. Rattree sounds incredibly fake, with her faux politeness.
    “Okay, then you can get the fuck out.”
    Mrs. Rattree acts offended, and she shoos her daughter out of the store. Jill gives their retreating backs the middle fingers, both of her middle fingers. She turns back toward me, and all the anger leaves her body. I see the pity and the sympathy. I don’t know what is worse: the snide remarks or the pity. Both make me uneasy.
    “Damn bitches. Are you okay, Jess?”
    I simply nod, not able to find any words. Jill jumps over the counter in a swift dancer-like maneuver and stands in front of me. She takes my hands and pulls them apart to stop me from scratching. The heat in my body begins to die down, and I realize that my hands are trembling.
    “Do you need to go home?”
    I shake my head. What use will that do? I’m going to have to deal with people like this every day. This is what my life has come down to.
    “Okay. Well, I’m here for you, okay?” She runs a hand through her wild, messy hair, which falls down to her chin.
    I nod once again.
    “Damn, Mrs. Rattree really lives up to her name.