The golden gleam coming from six gold bars takes my breath away. I didn't notice the neatly stacked piles of cash at first. So fixated on the bullion bars I didn't notice the front door bang shut either. The bang of the door and the foot steps on the stairs brought me quickly back to the hear and now. My heart was pounding against my chest like a caged wild animal. I sat waiting for it to burst free and run to safety. The foot steps were on the landing now, my imagination running wild. Is it my brother James? Is it the people i Shouldn't trust? (Whoever they are). Was I followed from the storage box?
I close the case, stand slowly and make my way to the bedroom door as quietly as i can. The floor boards creak under foot like my great grandma's hip joints. I hold my breath again, waiting. Too scared to move, too scared to breathe. Who the hell is it? One thing i know is that they heard the floorboards creak. They stopped, the footsteps stopped. Is it my imagination or are they right out side my bedroom door? I'm sweating like a fat man who has just run for the ice cream truck. I'm sure the sound of my Sweet can be heard dripping to the wooden floor. Each drop splashes to the ground, and rings in my ears like a hammer striking an anvil. They must be able to hear me, they must know I'm here.
I look to the window, i could jump from here. It's two floors up but there's a pool in the back yard. I'm sure i could make it. Quick Johnathan, quick, think. What am i going to do? run and leave the case that was so important to my father? Leave all that gold and money? Or stay and see who it is? It can't be James, he was suppose to be at the solicitors all day. Who the hell is it? I wrap my fingers around the baseball bat that sits by my door. My knuckles go white, I'm holding it so tight it might shatter in my hands.
The foot steps start back up, walking away from my room and to wards James'. I start to breath again as lightly as i can. It's still too loud, everything sounds too loud, like its echoing of the bare walls of a cave. All this has taken a few seconds but feels like a lifetime. my throat's dry, it feels like a sand box. Each breath hurting, each second tormenting. The footsteps stop James' bedroom door opens. Whoever it is walks around, they open a drawer and slam it shut again. I readjust my grip on the bat and take a quick glance at the suitcase. God dad What have you got me involved in?
The footsteps start again. Slowly, ever so slowly making their way back to wards me. I grip the bat tighter, and a splinter the size of a small tree slides into my palm. Damn who the hell is it.
The door swings open, the bat swings down.......................