Five ey Martin
Five
Shelley Martin
I leave school early. By the beginning of last period, I simply could not bear the tension any longer.
My heart is pounding as I pull into my favorite self-service car wash. There are no other vehicles in any of the bays. Thank God. My hands tremble as I dig for change in my purse.
How can this be happening? I was so careful. They must know something, otherwise why come to my school and ask me all those questions?
Someone had to have seen me. That is the only answer.
But how? I always waited until the wee hours of the morning, two or three o’clock. All the houses, including that sick fuck’s, were always dark. I just don’t get how anyone could have seen me.
Unless one of the others told.
I close my eyes and fight the descending despair. No. That can’t be. Not a single one of us would do that to the others.
Focus on what you have to do, Shelley.
I pop my trunk and get out. At the back of my car, I reach in to remove the spare tire.
The odor of death nearly takes my breath.
I gag over and over until the job is done.
With the spare on the ground and the piece of trunk carpet next to it, I remove the drain plug.
I shudder as my fingers encounter specks of blood.
Finally, I walk to the payment console and drop in coins.
I select “Wash” and draw in a big breath.
I tremble despite my best efforts to steady myself.
I should have done this already. It’s a miracle they didn’t ask to search my car.
For all I know, they could show up at my house with a search warrant this very evening.
If my husband or my children find out what I’ve done . . .
God no. They can’t. No one can ever know.
Another big breath and I remove the high-pressure spray gun from its rack and head toward the back of my car once more.
I spray the open lid and the interior over and over, then I return to the console and select “Rinse.” It takes a while to rinse away all the foam, but I get it done.
Then I check for any remaining debris and find nothing.
I spray off the tire and carpet before returning both to the trunk.
A voice in my head warns that the carpet will likely mildew before it dries, but I don’t care. I only care that any evidence of what I’ve done has been washed away.