All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
See You Soon
“Nice to see you again, Sarah.” I looked up startled at the cashier scanning the yogurt. His velvet voice couldn’t possibly be talking to me, but he did say my name. Confused, I searched his face for any look of familiarity but found none.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” My voice was not rude, just confused. A radiant smile illuminated his already beautiful face as if my question was somewhat expected and somewhat amusing.
He mechanically put the yogurt onto the counter without taking those piercing blue eyes off of me or breaking the smile. I shifted uncomfortably and frantically tried to remember if I knew him or not. Then, without acknowledging my question, he began to scan the rest of my groceries. I hesitated another moment before continuing to write out the check for the groceries. It was my first check, and I wrote cautiously in it to avoid an embarrassing mistake.
“Its been a while.” My head snapped up again, expecting to meet those piercing blue eyes. But he was completely ignoring me, still scanning the groceries. The smile had now disappeared and was replaced with a confused look.
“I-I don’t know what your talking about.” I stammered. This guy must surely be crazy, but than why was I so embarrassed? “I don’t know you.” I said forcedly. But I knew that it wasn’t him I was trying to convince, but myself. Flustered, I went back to my check and wrote a little more frantically as if this would get me out of there faster. He scanned the last thing, a loaf of bread, and then said the total. His voice had lost its amused smile, replaced with a depressing sadness. I scribbled the number down and ripped out my check. As I went to hand it to him, I did not meet his eyes. Snatching the check, he then grabbed my hands. His warm hands seemed to burn my flesh, and I quickly pulled it out of his hand. I backed up a step, then looked around.
No one seemed to notice my distress or predicament. They all seemed to be in a fog. I gave the cashier one last look and for a moment got lost in his deep eyes. The blue seemed darker. Softer. Sadder. His eyes seemed to pull me under a cover of despair and agony. I shook my head as if to shake the cover off. “Who-“ I broke off. It did not matter who he was. I suddenly knew that I needed to get away from him.
I grabbed my bag and rushed to the door. I pulled on it, but it would not open. Dropping my bag I shook the door harder. Grocery store doors did not just lock. I turned over my shoulder to plead for help from some of the other customers. The scream that was in my mouth changed to a gasp as the cashier was less than a foot away from me.
“Sarah. Please.” The desperation was not hidden in his voice as he pleaded. He reached for me and put his hands on my shoulders as if to shake himself back in my memory.
“Get off of me!” I screamed, hoping to grab attention and finally get some help. I knocked his hands of my shoulders, but he grabbed them again. This time, his grasp was harsh as he started to get frantic.
“Sara- please!! Remember me! How could you forget?!” He shook me a little as if this would help me recall the forgotten memory.
“No!” It sounded primal, half scream and half sob. Shoving his arms off of mine, I forcefully hit him in the groin with my knee. As he sank to the ground, I took the opportunity to run. The faces around me seemed confused and mildly interested rather than shocked that I had just been attacked. I tried to approach someone for help, but they looked down at the floor and gave me the cold shoulder.
“Please!” Grabbing onto one woman’s purse so that she could not easily abandon me, I pleaded for help. Her face filled with horror as she tugged at her purse.
“Get off of me! Guard!” Why were her screams so frantic? And what did she mean by guard? There were no guards in grocery stores! If there were, surely one would have helped me by now! The whole place must have lost their mind. The woman now managed to escape my grasp, and now disappeared. I circled, looking at the faces that now looked curiously back at me. Some shook their heads in pity, yet none came to my aid. Slowly I realized no on was going to help me. Despair crept in, calmly at first, and then flooding. The store around me seemed to blur in dark colors. I took a step forward, but was so disoriented that I fell. A sharp pain soared through my knee. Instead of getting up, I succumb to my despair and curl up. Huge sobs rack through my body and breathing becomes difficult.
That’s when I feel hands on my shoulders. They are soft, gentle, reassuring. Feeling safe, I lean into the hands and try to regain control of my breathing. I try to fight off the exhaustion that has overwhelmed me. Finally, some help. “Mr. Harper, do you need some help?” At the sound of the deep voice saying my last name, I open my eyes expecting to see my Dad, there to rescue me. It’s the cashier.
“Just take her to her room please. The quiet will do her some good.” The cashier sighed, than ran his fingers through his hair as the man nods his large, bald head slowly.
I try to shake my head. What the hell was going on? I wanted to go home to safety, where my Mom would be waiting for the groceries and wondering what was going on and my Dad would be trying to calm her down, assuring her I was alright. “Please, just let me go home!”
“Okay Sarah. I’ll take you there.” But he doesn’t know where I live.
“Please! My mom- she’ll be waiting!” My weak arms try to push against his massive bulk of a body. One hand hits a name pin. Moving my hand, I try to read it. James Patterson. Worker of Beverly Mental Institution. From some deep internal place in me, I find the energy to fight against him with renewed strength.
“She’s going to need to be restrained.” James says, his deep voice trapping me.
“Can’t you just take her to her room?” The cashier sounds frightened for me now and I wonder what restrained is supposed to mean. Another guard of equal bulk comes over with a small coat. “Is the straight coat really necessary? Last time she just-“
The guard cuts him off. “Sorry Brandon, it is procedure.” One holds me down as the other wrestles the straight jacket on me. Still fighting, I lash out, trying to bite and kick. The cashier is next to me as the guards escort my struggling self to a room.
“Sarah,” My face searched for him, though he started this. Tears silently rolled down his face. Strangely, I feel a certain pull from him and he changes from foe to friend.
“Brandon!” I call, trying to hang onto him.
“Sarah, I will see you soon! I love you!” I do not remember him, or know him, yet a part of me feels as if I should. He stops as we reach the room with the padded walls. The guards push me in. As the door shuts, blocking out all light, the last thing I hear is his voice repeating, “I love you Sarah. I will see you soon!”