Every moon has a silver lining-CH 1

It had been three months since the attack. Brandon had relived it every night in his nightmares. He felt like he was going insane, would his life ever be his own again.

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

Brandon had just gotten off work at the small coffee shop where he had been working for the past two years. He had agreed to pull a double shift to cover for his friend David, who had needed the night off. The last part of the night had gone relatively smooth, until a lingering couple had refused to leave until almost an hour after closing. Luckily, he had been able to do most of the cleaning, but had to wait until they left to finish up. Company policy, you had to keep all the pots out and half full if there were any customers at all. The coffee shop had ten varieties so that made it a definite pain in the ass for only two customers, who were only sipping straight black, but he didn’t need the boss showing back up as he was known to do and find a reason to bitch him out.

After the customers had finally left, he quickly cleaned the pots and coffeemakers, did a hasty wipe down of the table and counters, turned the chairs upside down on the tables and left. He was more than grateful that the morning shift did the mopping, since he had already been on his feet for sixteen hours and now had to walk almost two miles home in the freezing January night.

It was almost midnight when he walked out onto the deserted street. That was the thing he hated most about living in a small town, they roll up the streets at ten o’clock. The only thing that stayed open later was the automatic carwash and that hardly seemed to count since no one actually worked there.

He zipped the fleece jacket he wore and then carefully buttoned the heavier leather coat he wore over it. He was stalling and he knew it. He began walking up the darkened street, thirty years old and he still hated the dark. Well afraid would be a better description if he had the guts to admit it, but this was a secret he kept very well. He hated to show fear or weakness. He could picture everyone laughing at him if anyone ever found out that a grown man was afraid of the dark. Then again, he was used to people laughing at him. He could not think of a single person who ever took him seriously. Of course that was partly his own fault, he was always making a joke out of everything. He thought it was the only way to have friends. He had never felt he was worthy of anyone’s attention.

As he continued walking, he could hear his footsteps echoing and could swear he heard others, but knew it had to be his imagination because he couldn’t think of anyone crazy enough to out walking tonight. He pulled the hood of the fleece jacket up over his head and pulled the string tying it under his chin, instantly he felt better since it helped to block the icy wind that seemed to be cutting through him like a dull knife. It also helped that it blocked his peripheral vision and helped to block out the surrounding darkness.

If he could focus on something other than the pitch-black night, he would be fine. He narrowed his vision down to just watching his feet moving and even began counting his steps, anything to keep his mind occupied. He still had a long way to go before he got home. Only three blocks of his trek was sidewalk the rest was just walking down the side of the road in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, when the sidewalk ended so did the little light that he had from the few streetlights that littered the small street.

He stopped as he reached that last bit of cement, standing under the last streetlight until he reached Tibbs cemetery. This was the worst part, roughly a mile and a half until he reached the next light. A mile and a half of walking in complete darkness was more than he could bear to think about. He looked down the desolate highway, trees on both sides, which made him feel as if he were walking in a tunnel.

He pulled a small flashlight from the pocket of his jacket, turned it on and began walking, the pathetic little beam doing little to cut through the smothering dark. He quickened his pace hoping to get the trip over as quickly as possible.
“Fuck, why did I ever say that I would close?” He said aloud trying desperately to fill the silence. He had never closed before, since it meant he would be the last to leave and there would be no one there to give him a ride home. He slowed his pace, squared his shoulders and tried to will himself to calm down. He made himself think all those happy thoughts he had heard others talking about. He could not think of one damned thing, his mind a void. If he couldn’t think of anything, it also meant he didn’t think about the darkness. He continued on feeling much calmer, still trying to think a happy though. Then a thought sprang to life. A car, he thought.

“Yeah, a car would be really fucking nice.” He said.
“A corvette.” He continued his thought aloud. “Red, leather seats, a convertible, with a great stereo, cd changer, and a hot brunette riding shotgun.” Yeah, he thought, I should be able to get right on that corvette as soon as I scrape up enough to keep the power on.
“Aw fuck, who am I kidding?” “I don’t have enough money for a used bicycle and I’m dreaming about a corvette.”