Arianne was unsure what to do. She was determined to find the answers to her problem. According to the store manager, Wilton was not an actual employee at the store, but trying to find him seemed like her only option. She put on a loose sweatshirt, hoping to disguise herself. She looked at herself in the mirror, but she was still too recognizable. She knew that she had to change her appearance more. She thought for a moment, then got a pair of large scissors. She had always worn her hair long; she pulled her hair into a ponytail, then cut it off, as short as she could. She continued cutting until she had a fairly uniform one to two inches of hair all over head. She put her hood up and walked out her door.
Arianne thought that parking behind the drugstore seemed like the best idea; she hoped to sneak in through the freight door and look at the personnel files. She was certain that Wilton's name would be there. She stopped the car a few hundred feet from the door and stepped out.
Arianne focused on moving quietly as she attempted to stay away from the lights. She didn't even notice the figure wearing dark clothing and weilding a crowbar. The assailant raised his weapon and swung, striking Arianne on the back of the head. Though it didn't actually hurt, the of the blow still carried enough force to knock her to the ground.
She got back to her feet as quickly as possible and found herself staring at the would-be thief from the drugstore. He stood frozen in place with the crowbar slowly creeping through the air as he followed through the arc of his swing. Arianne pried the crowbar from his hands.
Arianne wasn't angry, but she coldly considered the thought of killing the thief. She knew that he would not hesitate to kill her if their roles were reversed. She raised the crowbar and steeled herself to swing it at his head. Then, she thought back to the sound of Connor's heart monitor slowing and stopping. “I won't kill him,” she whispered to herself. She threw the crowbar away from her; it seemed to hang in the air, right where she let go of it.
“Why didn't you kill him?” Arianne turned to see young man, walking toward her. The figure continued, “You know that he would have killed you; why didn't you kill him?”
Arianne looked back at the thief, still frozen in place. “I'm not a murderer.”
The young man was beside her now, regarding the thief dispassionately. “Of course you aren't! You didn't kill Connor, you know.”
Arianne turned to face the young man. He wore a nametag that said “My name is Wilton; How May I Help You?”
“You! You were in the store last night; you have to help me!” Arianne said.
Wilton responded. “Help you with what?”
Arianne was dumbfounded. “I can't feel anything; I don't know why. Why can't I cry anymore?”
Wilton spoke more softly this time. “Don't you think you've cried enough? You deserve to be free.”
“Will I ever feel anything again?”
There seemed to be a gleam in his eye as Wilton answered. “You might be surprised.”
Arianne closed her eyes and took a breath. She was startled by the sound of the crowbar hitting the ground with a loud clang. She opened her eyes to find Wilton and the thief both gone. She looked around, but they were nowhere to be seen.
“What's going on out there?” Connor came out of the back door with a flashlight.
Arianne looked around warily, before answering. “Everything seems to be alright now.”
Connor wasn't quite convinced. “You seem a bit shaken; can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”
Arianne smiled, as an unfamiliar feeling seemed to appear in her heart. “I don't drink coffee;” she replied. “I'd love a cup of hot tea though.”
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