Holding her purse tight to her body, she walks briskly into the park. Approaching the center most point of the park, the reflecting pool, Morgan stops. Her heart rate rises as the feeling of being watched intensifies. Quickly, she turns around, only to see nothing. Morgan takes a deep, shaky breath and continues on her walk. I really need a vacation; these constant early mornings are making me paranoid. Morgan sighs, knowing that a vacation, let alone a day off, was simply out of the question. She shudders thinking of her nearly empty bank account. Reaching the opposite end of Bishop Commons, Morgan could see the welcoming sign of Sugar High Bakery, her place of work. She races to the door and rummages through her purse for the key. Feeling like she is still being watched, Morgan fumbles with the key until the door is finally unlocks. Morgan walks across the lobby, into the kitchen and puts on an apron. Autopilot sets in. Buzzing around the kitchen Morgan measures, mixes, and pours various batters in to their respective tins. Checking the proof box, Morgan pulls out sheets of gooey dough balls and slides them into a piping hot oven. The kitchen soon fills with the intoxicating smell of baking bread, muffins, cookies and cakes. Morgan pats her brow and neck with a cool damp cloth and smirks as she looks at the clock, 4:47, ahead of schedule. Running the prep dishes through the washer, Morgan heard the front door open and close.
Sashaying her way into the kitchen was the petite Camilla, her raven hair swaying behind her. Camilla always looked ready for a magazine cover shot, and she made it look effortless. " Good morning!" sings Camilla. She bounces over to the pantry and grabs the ingredients needed to make various icings and glazes. "Did you hear the news?" Camilla inquires. Morgan shakes her head. " Go turn on the news," Camilla encourages. Morgan wipes her hands on her apron and plods to the lobby, reluctant to leave the kitchen with so much left to do. She turns the lobby TV to WHAG channel 4 news.
The television displayed a picture of a pretty young girl, no older than 19, in a graduation cap and gown being embraced by beaming parents. The picture on the screen changes to Honos. A tall, broad, muscular masked man wearing navy blue body armor with golden accents. Despite how silly Morgan thought the suit was, she couldn't help but be totally fascinated by Honos. Who was he? Why take the law into his own hands? What happened to make him want to risk life and limb nightly? Morgan was deep in thought when an oven timer buzzing brings her back to reality. She turns off the TV and returns to the kitchen. Camilla was busy frosting some cakes and Morgan starts taking the finished pastries into the lobby display case.
At 6:30, the girls open for business and a steady stream of customers enter and leave the shop. Camilla mans the register while Morgan was filling orders at the pastry case. The morning progresses rather quickly and uneventfully. Their regular customers came and went. A sweet old woman, Mrs. Carol, from down the block came every day for a cup of tea, a scone, and a piece of sage wisdom for the girls. A group of angsty teens, dressed mainly in black, got their usual lattes and muffins. A swell as a gaggle of faceless business men and woman, too busy to acknowledge that Morgan and Camilla were even human. until a customer of a caliber different than their customer base walked in. A young man in a well-tailored suit stares at the menu. Camilla gives Morgan the "check-this-guy-out' look. Morgan walks over to the register and straightens up a stack of business cards and casually looks at the man. He has chestnut hair and piercing eyes. His five o'clock shadow gives him a rugged look. The man's stare met Morgan's gaze. Morgan quickly turns away and walks to the kitchen, her face a bright shade of pink. A few minutes pass and Morgan walks back to the lobby. Camilla hands the man a coffee and a to-go bag with a scone inside. With a smirk the man pulls a card from his inside jacket pocket and drops it in the win a free breakfast bowl. he looks back at Morgan, nods at Camilla and leaves. Camilla slowly turns to Morgan. "Dude, you made that so weird," Camilla laughs. Morgan shrugs and smiles weakly. "He was pretty, wasn't he?" Camilla sighs and plays with her hair. As the day continues on customers trickle in little by little.
The door flies open, and a tall olive skinned man with black hair walks in. He struts in away similar to Camilla to the counter. "Gimme some food," he says curtly. It takes Morgan a moment before she realizes it Julian, Camilla's spoiled older brother. Morgan always hated how he speaks to Camilla, like she is subservient to him. Camilla, throws some various pastries into a bag and hands it over to Julian. "Why are you being so rude?" He says as he shoves half a muffin in his mouth.
"Sorry, it's just, that's a lot of food. We're losing enough money as it is," Camilla says in a tone Morgan has only heard her use around her father.
"Speaking of money, I need like eighty," he pauses, "nah, a hundred bucks. I got an interview this afternoon and I need some new clothes."
"Go ask Dad or Mom. You never gave back the money I lent you last month," Camilla crosses her arms.
"I'm not going to ask them, I'm trying to show them I can be more independent, that I don't need them babying me. So, give me the cash, or I'll tell Dad that I saw you at a club the other night," he holds out his hand expectantly. Camilla open the till and counts out one hundred dollars. She slides it over the counter to Julian, who counts the money and puts it in his wallet. Without another word, Julian leaves.
"Sorry," Camilla sighs, "he is turning into my dad. I can't say no. Why is everyone in my family so crazy?"
"It's okay," Morgan says, "At least you didn't inherit the crazy," Morgan puts her arm around Camilla. A little after 3 o 'clock Morgan and Camilla decide to close up the shop for the day. Morgan begins cleaning the front while Camilla preps for tomorrow morning.
It isn't long before Morgan is strolling back through Bishop Commons on her way home. The sky was clear and the air was warm. Despite its terrible reputation, the commons is full of joggers, cyclist and dog walkers. Morgan yawned a deeply. These long days need to end. She looks across the reflecting pool and sees a group of friends chatting, and a couple cuddling on a bench. I know I work with my best friend but I wish I could have a social life. I'm usually going to bed when everyone else is going on. She is nearly to her apartment building when she starts to feel like she is being followed. Quickening her pace, she gets to the edge of the park. A loud, deep voice calls to her in a boom, "Hey, lady!" Morgan turns around to see two gruff looking men. The man that spoke to her was the larger of the two and had a scar down the left side of his face. His counterpart, though smaller, was rather buff and missing one of his canine teeth. She instinctively holds her purse close to her body. "You got any cigarettes?" said the larger man in his baritone voice. "No, sorry," Morgan whimpered and she took a step back. The men walked away without saying a word.
Morgan dashed to the crosswalk and repeatedly pressed the button until the traffic finally stopped. Once she entered her apartment building she heaved a sigh of relief. She trekked up the seven flights of stairs and down the dingy hallway to apartment 7E. Entering her apartment, she tossed her purse on the bed and ripped of her boots. Stomach growling, she poured a can of tomato soup in a pot and a piece of stale bread in the toast. Eating straight from the pot, Morgan gulped down her dinner. After changing into pajamas, she climbed into bed and mindlessly scrolled through her phone for sometime. Checking the local news website she saw a picture of Honos with the caption, Is he Above the Law? , under his picture was a link to a story on Isabell Harris. Morgan clicked the link and read. Her chest felt heavy and her eyes began to mist.
Putting her phone down, Morgan rolls over and gazes out the window, 8:17. She watches the lights of cars, Bishop Commons, and the skyline of downtown twinkle. Slowly, she drifts off into a deep, sound sleep.
Morgan is woken up by her alarm at 2:45, as always. She stumbles to the kitchen and makes a cup of instant coffee. After taking a few sips, Morgan opens and climbs through the window to the fire escape. She rests her elbows on the railing while carefully observing the park below. All seems quite, she turns to go back inside when she is overcome with the feeling of being watched. She turns back toward Bishop commons and gulps her coffee. Peering into the park with laser focus, she cannot make anything out. Shivering, she returned inside. Continuing her morning routine, she brushed her teeth, showered, did her make up, and struggled with today's outfit. She finally decided on a teal top, jeans, and a pair flats. She ties her hair up in a slightly off center pony tail and leaves for work.
From the moment Morgan exits her apartment building, the unnerving feeling of being watched intensifies. It followed her across the street and into the commons. She jogs half the length of the park but stops short once the reflecting pool comes into view. Three men are huddled near the benches, talking in whispers. Morgan feels her chest tighten and hears her heart pounding. Never has Morgan seen anyone at the commons this early in the morning, except for the occasional homeless person. I was bound to run into someone eventually. She tries to reason with herself but fear overcomes her. She carefully and quietly backtracks and tak the loop around the reflecting pool. She'd get to work late, but it was better than ending up like one of the Fitzpatrick girls. Despite taking a more secluded path, Morgan still felt like she was being watched. She picked up her pace and made it to the edge of the commons.
Entering the bakery, Morgan looked at the clock, 3:35, not terribly late. The feeling of being watched quickly dissipates. Mindlessly, she enters the kitchen and begins morning prep. Morgan doesn't even notice Camilla coming in the shop. Camilla sneaks up behind Morgan and whispers in her ear, "Good morning." Morgan flies forward and whips around. Camilla cackles, "I got you! I scared the shit out of you!" She carries on laughing for a few moments
"It is way, way too early for the nonsense," Morgan groans, burying her face in her hands.
"Well, its good thing we have a heavy duty coffee machine, I'll make us some." Camilla smiled.
“You're in an awful good mood,” Morgan sings, “and you here early!"
"I'm not here early, if anything I am a little late and yes, I am in a fantastic mood!" Camilla went to the front.
"Just a regular coffee, black." he replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and handed Camilla a five-dollar bill. Camilla gave him his change and smiled bashfully. The man almost glided to the pick-up area where Morgan was snapping on a to-go lid. She handed the coffee to him and he smiled. On his way out he stopped at the "win a free breakfast" bowl and dropped in another card. He looked at Morgan, said thank you, and walked to the door.
"Looks like we got a new regular," Morgan said through a smile.
"Looks that way," Camilla sighed while staring at the door. They both chuckle.
The afternoon drags on, unlike the morning. At glacial speed the girls finish the prep and cleaning. Morgan bumps Camilla playfully in the side. "You never told me why you were sin such a good mood this morning," teases Morgan. Camilla blushes. "It's a guy, isn't it?" Oh, tell me, tell me, tell me!" Morgan bounced. Camilla held the front door open and the both walked out. Morgan locks the door.
"I think he likes me," Camilla whispers.
"Who?" Morgan pleads.
"The man in the really nice suits. I just feel it, ya' know," Camilla shakes her head, "I sound crazy." Camilla blushes.
Morgan stops at the convince store, Stop n' Save, a few shops down. Browsing the aisles for something better than soup and stale toast. Apathetically, she picks up some ramen noodles, bananas, and a cheap bottle of wine. Standing in the checkout line Morgan sees the paper with a side by side picture of Honos and Councilman Fitzpatrick. She hands the cashier her items and reluctantly swipes her credit card. The cashier hands her the bag and receipt, she stuffs the receipt in her wallet and takes the bag. Morgan strolls down, the sidewalk and across the street, and into Bishop Commons. The park was emptier than usual this time of day. The sky is grey and over cast. Morgan shivers as a cool gust of wind picks up. Sunny and warm all week my ass. Channel 4 needs a new meteorologist. The sky rumbles and with a crack a torrential down pour erupts. Morgan hurries across the commons. Just as she is passing the reflecting pool she bumps into the man with the scar on his face. "Excuse me," Morgan gulps. The man studies her for a brief moment, then continues on his way. Morgan runs the rest of the way home.
Completely drenched, Morgan enters her apartment and strips off her dripping clothes. After putting on her warmest pair of pajamas, she boils the water for her much needed soup. She slowly slurps the noodles and watches the rain slowly dissipate. Yawning, she crawls into bed and burrows under the covers. She thinks about what Camilla had said earlier and frowns slightly. I doubt he is interested in either of us. He is probably out with some Instagram model up town. Morgan covers her face with her hands and groans. Why do I even care? I don't even know him. He really isn't my type anyway, perfectly manicured. She rolls to her side and gazes out the window. The rain drops magnify the city lights making them look like star bursts. The next morning the rain returns. Morgan skips her morning survey of the park but continues with her morning routine. After her shower, Morgan put on a pair of skinny jeans, a knit sweater and her riding boots. She digs through her closet and pulls out her houndstooth peacoat and umbrella.
She was out the door much earlier than usual. Standing under the awning, eyeing the wall of rain in front of her. I should go back in, call a cab. Morgan reaches in her purse to grab her phone, but decides to check her wallet first. She opens her wallet, and the receipt from the convince store falls out. She frowned as she picks it up. I can't afford the luxury of a cab and food. Morgan rolls her eyes and shoves the receipt and her wallet back in her purse. She shifts her weight from one foot to another, pumping herself up for the marathon she is about to run. Umbrella at the ready, she runs into the rain and across the street.
She can barely hear her footsteps splashing over the sound of the rain hitting her umbrella. Once she starts to see the reflecting pool, Morgan gets a stabbing cramp in her side, she stops, struggling to catch her breath. I really need to work out more. The rain pounds harder. Morgan starts to walk again but just beyond the reflecting pool she sees the silhouette of a person. Why would someone be here at this time of night, in this rain? The silhouette begins walking toward her. Morgan turns down the path that bypasses the reflecting pool, the path is narrow with barely any lighting. Instantly regretting her decision, Morgan looks over her shoulder. Standing at the mouth of the path is the silhouette man. News headlines and images of the abducted girls start flying through Morgan's head. I won't let myself be taken. The man is hulking down the path toward Morgan, his gait speeds up. Morgan drops her umbrella and runs full speed down the path. The bakery is closer than my apartment. I bet the Stop n' Save is open. If I can just make it there. As Morgan enters the bend of the path she looks behind her, and her face goes numb. The man is only a few paces behind her.
Morgan pushes herself to run faster. Her legs start burns as she slides on the slick pavement. She wipes her face with her arm, the rain is making it impossible to see. As she approaches the end of the path she can see the glow of the neon shop signs of her neighboring businesses. A fleeting feeling of hope fills her as she dashes onto the main path once more. Checking over her shoulder, she no longer sees the man. As she turns to look ahead she runs into what feels like a brick wall. She bounces backward and lands on the cement. Morgan looks up, despite the downpour, she can clearly see a man with a scar down the left side of his face. Looking down at her, he smirks. Morgan scrambles to get up, but her legs are fatigued. She finally stands, unsteadily. Looking over her shoulder, the man from the reflecting pool was closing in behind her. Morgan holds out her purse. "T-t-take it." The man shakes his head. With a serge if adrenaline, Morgan cocks her arm and purse back, striking the scar faced man in the jaw. Morgan tries to run but the man with the scar on his face catches her. Morgan screams as loud as she can. "That was a bad idea," the man with the scar boomed, "Mason, call East." The smaller man, Mason, pulls out his phone, walks a few yards away, and makes the call.
Morgan struggles to break free, but it was no use. She opens her mouth to scream for help, but the man clamps his large hand over her mouth. Morgan tried to wiggle out of his grip again but he only holds on tighter. It gets harder for her to breath and she stops resisting. "Atta girl. Cooperate and this will be a much more pleasant experience for all," the man whispers in her ear. Hanging her head, Morgan's eyes fill with tears. A numbness radiates from her face down. The rain begins to let up, but Morgan's vision remains blurry, sound is muffled. This is how it ends? Never making anything of myself. When was the last time I talked to Mom and Dad? I should have called them more. A tear rolls down Morgan's cheek. Everything I never got to do. Images of a bigger, busier bakery flash before her. Pictures of everyone she loves burn into her brain. She takes a slow, deep breath and exhales. I have to try. I have to fight. Just as Morgan is building the will and the strength to try one last attempt for freedom, she hears a faint crack and the man's hands become limp.
Morgan's knees knock and she struggles to keep her balance. A hand, a much gentler hand, helps her regain her footing, Morgan looks down and sees a gold glove. Her eyes widen and mouth gapes as her brain tries to process who she sees. A statuesque man stands before her, wrapped in navy and gold, still grasping her arm. He wore a mask, Morgan could still see a strong jaw, steel grey eyes, and thick dark hair. It was Honos. From his belt, that was full of various items, he pulled something the looked like a golden expandable baton. He presses a button and the small baton stretched out to a lance like weapon. Letting go of Morgan's arm, Honos looks at Mason, who was still oblivious his partner was unconscious. Honos looks at Morgan and finally speaks in a whisper, "Run."
Honos stealthily moves in the shadows advancing on Mason. Morgan's feet are planted as she watches. Mason hangs up the phone and looks at Morgan. "What the, how the hell?" Mason begins to run toward Morgan, when out of the shadows Honos appears. He jabs Mason's side with his blunt end of his weapon like a battering ram, followed by a loud crunch. Howling in pain, Mason falls to the ground cradling his side. Honos stands over top of Mason, now with a spear end millimeter from Mason's throat. He looks over at Morgan with a scowl. In a gruff voice he yells, "GO!"
Morgan's feet peel off the ground and she runs. Without looking, she runs into the street. Tires screech and a horn blares, but she keeps running until she is safely inside Sugar High. She sinks to the floor, a sopping wet mess and buries her face in her purse. Dripping on the floor, she sits motionless for some time, until, out of nowhere she begins to laugh. "What the hell just happened?" She laughs some more. She feels lighter than ever before, renewed, she has a second chance at life. Remembering a spare change of clothes, she squirreled away, she hops up and starts working.
