If you thought it was over.....
Run (part two) Chapter Thirteen
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Rob stops to check his phone, reading the list of ingredients that Sarah gave him as he walks the supermarket aisle, a metal basket in his other hand.
She has a day off work tomorrow before returning to nights and she wants to cook, so he's made the foray into the world alone, for her.
The music they're playing is fucking awful, and so is the sound system they're using, it's grating on his nerves and making him even more tense in this place than usual, coupled with the sounds of children whining and the constant movement of people it's starting to feel like too much.
Despite the AC his t-shirt is beginning to stick to his back, but he's determined to do this, for Sarah.
He pictures her light hazel eyes smiling at him over the rim of her coffee cup that morning as she asked him, and something inside him softens a little. It's been a month and a half since he was assaulted, and he's aware that she's gently and lovingly pushing him back into normal life.
That's if it can ever really be normal, when people still approach him to say hi and ask for a photo, although they're generally pleasant and well intentioned. He doesn't mind that, it's a reminder that the majority of people are still harmless.
If he's alone as he is now, he's normally constantly aware of where other people are and how they're moving in the space around him, but right now for a few seconds his focus is distracted, reading labels.
When a large figure moves past so closely that they almost brush against him, his body is more aware of it than he allows himself to be consciously, becoming still and tense as the hairs on his neck stand on end and his heart beats out the time until they move away. He breathes out steadily to keep himself calm until they do.
Moving his gaze along the shelves in front of him he deliberately holds his nerve and makes his selection before placing the item from the list into the basket.
It's then that he sees the note.
It's lying on top of the shopping, a scruffy piece of A5 ripped from a spiral bound pad, folded in half.
After a swift glance around him and along the now almost empty aisle in either direction he takes it from the basket and gingerly opens it out.
The writing inside is an untidy scrawl, written in biro, the words like spider legs across the paper, and as he reads them the world folds in around him.
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theartofmadeline
2087
prguitarman
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
stormborns
dededos
izzy806
