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Jordan scrubbed the corner of the bumper, dipping the brush in the bucket and splashing a fresh layer of bubbles and suds across it. He really didn't have time for such a menial chore before work, but it had to be done. It certainly wouldn't do to have everyone at the office see his prized Mustang so dirty. It looked like he was done though.
He dropped the sponge back into the bucket and pulled out the microfiber towel, drying the front of the forest green Mustang GT with as much care as he could. Jordan stepped back and admired the car.
"Lucky it didn't get any scratches, but there, good as new."
He smiled and went back into the house, changing out of the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn to clean in and changing into his business suit. His briefcase was ready and waiting by the door and he grabbed it on his way out.
Briefcase safe in its spot on the passenger seat, Jordan walked around the front of the car to get in the driver's side. A quick glance should have been to revel in how smooth, shiny, and clean his car was, but his eyes were drawn to a dark spot on the left end of the bumper.
"Fuck!" Jordan knelt down and stared at it. There was no way he'd missed a spot. It was also still wet. As he watched it started to run down the front of the bumper. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it away, looking at it closer against the white fabric.
It was red. Blood.
He peered up at the sky, to the eves of the house, and into the branches of some of the neighborhood trees. Some stupid hurt bird decided to fly over his car, letting its filthy blood drip onto his prized Mustang.
He couldn't waste anymore time washing the car again though, so he just wiped it off with the handkerchief, tossed the bloody rag into the garbage can, and headed to work.
Jordan knew the route like the back of his hand, having driven it almost every day for the last five years. He glanced over at the Darchester House as he sped past, at the monkey puzzle tree that stood thirty-feet high in the Carter's front yard. The only thing that wasn't normal for his Monday morning drive to the office was a bunch of caution tape at the corner of Tremont and Bond. He wondered what had happened and made a mental note to check the internet when he got to work.
He backed into his parking space right on time, in spite of having left his house easily ten minutes later than usual. Jordan smirked to himself as he got out and walked around to get his suitcase.
Spots. There were four spots on the left corner of the front bumper. Three of them were already running down and one was about to drip onto the ground.
"Fuck. It just isn't my day, is it?"
He checked the trunk, and managed find some paper towels. They weren't the softest or most absorbent, but it was enough to wipe away the spots and smears on his bumper. Satisfied enough, he threw them away and went inside.
Jordan's day at his desk was average for a Monday. Emails to reply to, calls to make. It was just an ordinary day. At least until he noticed a few of the girls in the office whispering and pointing in his direction. He wished that had been a normal part of his day, but he brushed it off and tried to focus on his work, waiting until nobody was looking at him again before reaching into the back of a drawer and pulling out a single-shot bottle of whiskey.
He poured it into his empty coffee cup and threw it back before anyone could notice, tossing the empty bottle back into the drawer.
Time passed and it was almost lunchtime. Jordan's buzz was in full swing with almost half a dozen shot-bottles now sitting empty in his drawer. It took him a minute to recognize the look of concern on his friend Kevin's face when he walked up.
"Hey Jordan, everything okay?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be? Just another Monday morning."
"You sure? I saw your car in the garage when I went for lunch."
Jordan immediately sat up, his mood souring in a moment. "What about my car?"
"Did you hit someone's dog or something on the way in? There's blood all over the bumper on the passenger side."
"What? No. No, nothing like that..."
Jordan shot out of his chair and down the hallway, bursting into the garage. A few people were standing in front of his car, looking down at the bumper. Kevin was right. The whole front corner of the passenger side looked like someone had taken dark red paint and splashed it across the car. It dripped down off the bumper into a pool of red which was slowly spreading across the pavement.
One of the women from earlier was standing there and saw Jordan.
"What did you hit?"
"Nothing. I didn't hit anything! This is some fuckwad's idea of a stupid joke!"
Jordan jumped into the driver's seat and peeled out of the parking garage, speeding through the town to a small car wash. He spent his lunch break and then some rinsing and scrubbing down his car, getting the thick, sticky substance off. Clean once again, he got in and slumped into his seat for a moment. His whiskey buzz was wearing off. Jordan reached up and adjusted the rear-view mirror, just in time to see some young girl run behind his car calling for her mom.
"What a fucking day this is turning into."
He pulled out of the car wash, stopped at a gas station to refill on shot-bottles, and headed back to the office. He chose not to back in this time, in case the joker decided to hit his car again before the end of the night.
Work ran late, and there was only two other people in the office by the time Jordan snuck his last shot bottle in the bathroom and shut the clamps on his briefcase. Walking into the parking lot made him nervous, but at a distance, he could see there were no new splashes on the back of his Mustang. A sigh of relief escaped him and he gave in to the fresh whiskey buzz putting a little spring in his step.
As he got closer, he noticed a puddle underneath his car, rolling slowly out into the parking garage. He stopped and looked at the thick, reddish fluid that seemed to be flowing toward him. Then continued on, holding his head up as he got into his car.
"Nope. Nothing there. I'm just drunk and imagining things after this shitty day."
He backed out of the parking space, ignoring the large pool that his tires left marks in and trailed behind him as he drove away. Jordan flipped on the headlights, finding the one on the passenger side weak and obscured.
He slammed on the brakes as a little girl ran across in front of him in the parking garage. He could hear her calling "Why?" to her mom somewhere on his right, but ignored it and sped on as quickly as she passed.
Jordan sped through the streets, wanting nothing more than to get home after such a long, fucked-up day.
Specks started to hit the windshield, flying up from the passenger side of the hood. Jordan tried to ignore them, and when he couldn't anymore, he flipped on the wipers, which did nothing but make red smears across the glass.
"Why?"
The little girl's voice echoed in his ear, giving him goosebumps. Something touched his right arm, making him jump and forcing him to turn and look.
A small girl was sitting there in the passenger seat, blonde hair stained red with blood which ran down her face and stained her shirt.
"Why didn't you stop?"
Jordan jerked away from the girl, pulling on the wheel. The green Mustang jumped the sidewalk, yellow caution tape flapping by before the car plowed straight on into the large Oak tree which stood just beyond the corner of the intersection of Tremont and Bond.
Jordan's chest bounced off the steering wheel, cracking ribs and knocking the wind out of him, making him unable to scream as part of the engine was shoved back into the car, underneath the dashboard, crushing his legs and pinning him in place.
As shock set in, all he could hear was the little girl's voice.
"Why? Why didn't you stop for me? Why didn't you stop? why didn't you stop? why didn't you stop? why didn't you stop....
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