Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 54
I walked the last few blocks, hot and sweaty by the time I got home. It was only midmorning and already burning up outside. I nearly drained a glass of ice water before calling the rental company to let them know where the car had died. I told them I’d be in later to pick up my old one. I’d had my fun. I didn't need it anymore.
Violet fed Muffy some hotdogs before I left (after I told her the consequenting results were her full responsibility) but it meant I didn’t have to hurry back. I had planned on a shower but decided a bath sounded better, especially since I needed some time to mull over the events of the previous night. After I refilled my glass with more ice and water, I set it on the bathroom counter and climbed into the steaming bath. I leaned my head against the porcelain edge, hoping my pain would seep into the warm water. I knew that was too much to expect, so for now, I’d settle for skimming some off the top.
I lay there, dozing off, when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I jerked upright and sloshed the water in the bathtub. The sounds stopped.
Someone was in my house. And heard me.
I climbed out of the tub, shaking with fear, unsure what to do, but trying not to splash any more water. I was naked in my bathroom and my clothes were in the bedroom. Should I lock the door? The doors were thin; it wouldn’t take much to break it in. Whatever I decided to do, I needed to do it fast.
I grabbed the towel lying on the toilet seat, wiped the water off the floor, and closed the shower curtain halfway, hoping to hide the water in the tub. The door to the hall stood slightly ajar. Footsteps were moving my direction.
Fighting my rising hysteria, I opened the linen closet door and slipped in, carefully closing the door. I clutched the wet towel to my chest and over my mouth, trying to stifle my gasps for air. The bathroom door creaked open and footsteps thudded on the tile floor. Then stopped. The person could open the closet door at any moment. I tried to hold my breath, scared of being heard. Then I remember the glass of water. If they saw the ice, they would know I was somewhere in the house.
A million thoughts raced through my head. Whoever it was would find me naked, right before raping and murdering me. Surely, I was safe since my vision told me I wasn't supposed to die until Sunday. That knowledge gave me little consolation, trapped in a closet where old memories spewed into my head, reminding me of the hours spent locked in the dark.
Just when I thought I would give myself away with an outburst of hysterical crying, the person walked out of the bathroom. Chill bumps spread across my skin and water dripped off my body as noises came from my bedroom. Objects crashed and drawers and doors slammed. The sounds moved farther away, and I guessed the person had moved into Momma’s room. I wasn't sure how much longer I would last before my claustrophobic frenzy overcame me. Loud swearing and banging moved into the hall adding to my anxiety. It sounded like the intruder hit the other side of the closet wall. The sheetrock vibrated violently, and the wooden shelves jabbed into my back, scraping against my skin. I couldn't contain the cry that escaped from pain, but I hoped the towel muffled the sound.
I discovered the intruder was a man from the vulgarities he spewed—about me and life in general—as he made his way back into the kitchen. I heard items flying in all directions and the ricochet of something metal bouncing off the vinyl floor. More cursing followed. It was obvious the man hadn’t found what he was looking for.
I listened to the full-out assault on my kitchen, unable to contain my panic. I covered my face with the towel, wadded up extra-thick and sobbed as quietly as I possibly could.
The noise stopped. Hiccups shook my shoulders, and I bumped into the closet door with a bang.
Footsteps moved back down the hall.
I needed a plan. I wasn’t about to let someone kill me, standing naked in the linen closet. But my choice of weapons was sadly lacking. All I had was a wet towel. And my fingernails. I’d gouge his eyes out, then he couldn't see me naked.
I had no idea how one went about gouging a person’s eyeballs out but I supposed it had to be done. Too bad I just got a manicure the day before.
I wasn’t sure what to do with the towel. Drop it? I needed both hands since he had two eyes. Unless he had an eye patch, which seemed doubtful. But he’d see me naked. Then again, if I was going to blind him maybe I should give him something worth seeing for his last view. I couldn't bring myself to do it though, stand naked in front of a strange man. I bit the towel in my teeth and held my hands out in a claw like stance, somewhat reminding me of a velociraptor ready to attack.
The click of heels on the tile floor alerted me to his entrance into the bathroom. They made a dull thud, the sound Mike’s boots made on Violet’s kitchen floor. Ordinarily, the sound would have been barely audible, but in the silence and my fear, I heard every foot fall.
I hoped to use the element of surprise, waiting for him to open the door and planning to leap out. My adrenaline surged, ready to pounce. His cell phone rang, making me jump. I caught myself before I banged into the door.
“Yeah,” he barked. His voice sounded young, but rough around the edges from too many cigarettes.
I heard muffled words coming from the phone.
“I said I’d be right there. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.”
Since I didn't have the gouging plan fully coordinated, I hoped he’d just leave.
He cursed again, calling the person on the other end a lot of very ugly names. “I’ll be right there.” He left the bathroom, giving the wall a good kick on his way out. The kitchen door slammed.
Violet fed Muffy some hotdogs before I left (after I told her the consequenting results were her full responsibility) but it meant I didn’t have to hurry back. I had planned on a shower but decided a bath sounded better, especially since I needed some time to mull over the events of the previous night. After I refilled my glass with more ice and water, I set it on the bathroom counter and climbed into the steaming bath. I leaned my head against the porcelain edge, hoping my pain would seep into the warm water. I knew that was too much to expect, so for now, I’d settle for skimming some off the top.
I lay there, dozing off, when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I jerked upright and sloshed the water in the bathtub. The sounds stopped.
Someone was in my house. And heard me.
I climbed out of the tub, shaking with fear, unsure what to do, but trying not to splash any more water. I was naked in my bathroom and my clothes were in the bedroom. Should I lock the door? The doors were thin; it wouldn’t take much to break it in. Whatever I decided to do, I needed to do it fast.
I grabbed the towel lying on the toilet seat, wiped the water off the floor, and closed the shower curtain halfway, hoping to hide the water in the tub. The door to the hall stood slightly ajar. Footsteps were moving my direction.
Fighting my rising hysteria, I opened the linen closet door and slipped in, carefully closing the door. I clutched the wet towel to my chest and over my mouth, trying to stifle my gasps for air. The bathroom door creaked open and footsteps thudded on the tile floor. Then stopped. The person could open the closet door at any moment. I tried to hold my breath, scared of being heard. Then I remember the glass of water. If they saw the ice, they would know I was somewhere in the house.
A million thoughts raced through my head. Whoever it was would find me naked, right before raping and murdering me. Surely, I was safe since my vision told me I wasn't supposed to die until Sunday. That knowledge gave me little consolation, trapped in a closet where old memories spewed into my head, reminding me of the hours spent locked in the dark.
Just when I thought I would give myself away with an outburst of hysterical crying, the person walked out of the bathroom. Chill bumps spread across my skin and water dripped off my body as noises came from my bedroom. Objects crashed and drawers and doors slammed. The sounds moved farther away, and I guessed the person had moved into Momma’s room. I wasn't sure how much longer I would last before my claustrophobic frenzy overcame me. Loud swearing and banging moved into the hall adding to my anxiety. It sounded like the intruder hit the other side of the closet wall. The sheetrock vibrated violently, and the wooden shelves jabbed into my back, scraping against my skin. I couldn't contain the cry that escaped from pain, but I hoped the towel muffled the sound.
I discovered the intruder was a man from the vulgarities he spewed—about me and life in general—as he made his way back into the kitchen. I heard items flying in all directions and the ricochet of something metal bouncing off the vinyl floor. More cursing followed. It was obvious the man hadn’t found what he was looking for.
I listened to the full-out assault on my kitchen, unable to contain my panic. I covered my face with the towel, wadded up extra-thick and sobbed as quietly as I possibly could.
The noise stopped. Hiccups shook my shoulders, and I bumped into the closet door with a bang.
Footsteps moved back down the hall.
I needed a plan. I wasn’t about to let someone kill me, standing naked in the linen closet. But my choice of weapons was sadly lacking. All I had was a wet towel. And my fingernails. I’d gouge his eyes out, then he couldn't see me naked.
I had no idea how one went about gouging a person’s eyeballs out but I supposed it had to be done. Too bad I just got a manicure the day before.
I wasn’t sure what to do with the towel. Drop it? I needed both hands since he had two eyes. Unless he had an eye patch, which seemed doubtful. But he’d see me naked. Then again, if I was going to blind him maybe I should give him something worth seeing for his last view. I couldn't bring myself to do it though, stand naked in front of a strange man. I bit the towel in my teeth and held my hands out in a claw like stance, somewhat reminding me of a velociraptor ready to attack.
The click of heels on the tile floor alerted me to his entrance into the bathroom. They made a dull thud, the sound Mike’s boots made on Violet’s kitchen floor. Ordinarily, the sound would have been barely audible, but in the silence and my fear, I heard every foot fall.
I hoped to use the element of surprise, waiting for him to open the door and planning to leap out. My adrenaline surged, ready to pounce. His cell phone rang, making me jump. I caught myself before I banged into the door.
“Yeah,” he barked. His voice sounded young, but rough around the edges from too many cigarettes.
I heard muffled words coming from the phone.
“I said I’d be right there. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.”
Since I didn't have the gouging plan fully coordinated, I hoped he’d just leave.
He cursed again, calling the person on the other end a lot of very ugly names. “I’ll be right there.” He left the bathroom, giving the wall a good kick on his way out. The kitchen door slammed.
