Chapter 4
FOUR
Allison
There’s something about the chill in the air as winter nips at the dying embers of nature that always makes me feel sad.
Despite my pale skin, I’m a summer girl through and through.
The decaying leaves, the cold air, the early sunsets all make me feel a sense of dread; as if I too will wither and fade away with the winter’s chill.
It’s also the rainy season here in Washington.
I hate the rain. It’s dreary. Bad for the soul.
I’ve always wanted to move somewhere sunny and warm, but Brody thinks it’s important to stay near family.
I don’t disagree. I just wish we lived somewhere warm, laid back, bright.
Life would be so much brighter if I lived on the beach—I’m positive.
But, I still live in Washington, and despite the chilly evening air, today was oppressive, long, and draining.
I just want to be able to breathe. So, I opened all the windows to try to get some ventilation.
Whoever decided that PNW houses don’t need air conditioning was an ass.
Wet wind whips through the open windows, causing the cream curtains to stir.
Brody’s mother helped decorate our home so it’s neutral, sophisticated, and austere.
At the time, I was grateful for her help with furnishing and decorating our home.
We were young and broke and it seemed like a luxury we’d never be able to afford.
Now, I look around and just see a bland house, lacking any real life.
My house is as bland as my marriage. It’s a cream colored cage that I can’t seem to find my way out of.
The sound of my phone vibrating against the stone countertop pulls me from my thoughts. The screen lights up, illuminating the darkness of the shadow streaked kitchen.
HUBBY: Sorry babe, gotta work late. Don’t wait up.
I let out a long sigh. He’s been working late more and more lately.
Coming home after I’m asleep and leaving before I wake up; the only sign he was even here is his dirty clothes in the hamper.
I know some of it’s a lie. We’ve both been dancing around the unhappiness that’s seeped into our marriage, eroding our once ideal relationship into something neither of us truly recognize.
As much as I don’t want to admit it—neither of us have been happy in a really long time.
ME: Thanks for the heads up. Love you.
I wait anxiously, staring obsessively at my phone. It doesn’t vibrate. No more messages come through. No response.
“Bullshit,” I mumble under my breath as I pad across the wide wood planks of the floor and grab a wine glass.
Overall, it had been a monumentally shitty day.
After the meeting, I’d managed to spill coffee all down the front of my new blouse, the copier jammed and broke down when I tried to make worksheets for the following day, and the students were completely unruly.
Guilt and annoyance gnawed at me throughout the day as my mind continued to drift back to the piercing blue eyes and sexy smirk of the man who had been the catalyst for this shitstorm of a Monday.
I couldn’t seem to get the new substitute teacher out of my mind no matter how hard I tried.
And I had definitely tried. And now, my husband can’t even bother to respond to me. I’ve earned a glass of wine…or two.
I’ve been drinking too much lately. It’s becoming a problem when I wake up with a clouded mind and a stiff body.
But I can’t seem to stop myself. Anything to numb the sting of martial rejection.
I take a long swig, letting the red liquor settle into my empty stomach and calm my churning nerves.
The curtains flutter again as another gust of wind blows through.
I have half a mind to rip them straight from the rod. But that’d accomplish nothing.
I am not weak. I am in control.
In the low light of the setting sun, something outside catches my eye.
Movement among the darkness, nearly impossible to see in the deep shadows of dusk.
I move cautiously closer to the window as a lump forms in my throat.
We don’t live on a huge plot of land, but our house backs up to large evergreens and open space.
One day, we planned to get a fence— when we had kids or maybe even a dog.
That day never came. The wide open yard never bothered me. Not until right now.
Not until there was a man in a mask staring at me through my kitchen window.
His figure is obscured by the darkness of the shadows creeping across the yard, but he’s unmistakably staring straight at me.
The glowing red mask burns through the low light of dusk, a sinister Devil staring at me from the shadows.
There’s no true eyes, just empty black pits surrounded by glowing embers.
Red Devil horns tip the top of the mask right beneath the hood covering his head.
Rationally, deep down, I know it’s just an LED mask from some stupid Halloween costume, but panic spreads through me like toxic venom as I stare back at him.
He cocks his head to the side and brings a single finger up to the glowing stitches that cover his mouth. My breath catches in my throat.
Before I can register what I’m doing, my legs are carrying me across the kitchen.
The sound of my wine glass toppling and shattering crashes through the silence of the cold air but I don’t turn.
I quickly grab my phone and bring it to my ear.
Swiftly hitting the first number I have saved, I bring it to my ear.
“Come on. Come on,” I plead as the line rings and rings and rings. Tears prick my eyes. “Brody, please,” I whimper.
“This is Brody. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message after the—”
I hang up before the voicemail greeting can even finish. A sob chokes out through the lump in my throat. I spin slowly, my eyes heavy with fear.
But when I finally look up, there’s nothing there. No one is in my yard.
My phone vibrates against the counter—just once. I glance down.
HUBBY: What’s up?
Something about his brief response sends heat rolling through me. There was someone behind our house. Someone in a mask. Sure, it was probably nothing, but what if I had been in danger? What if something bad happened to me? Would my husband even care?
Should I tell him? Beg him to come home? That’d be smart. It might even get him to care and show some affection again.
But, I can’t bring myself to do it.
ME: Nothing
I wait a moment. Perhaps he’ll feel my pain through the phone. Maybe this time, he’ll call.
A twig snaps outside, pulling my attention back to the window.
Cautiously, I approach the window again, rounding the island and moving back toward the far counter and kitchen sink.
Red wine has pooled on the marble counter.
It will stain if I don’t clean it, but my focus doesn’t stay there.
Stepping to the open window, I look outside again.
There’s barely any light left now as night descends.
There’s nothing out there, just trees and cold damp air.
I swiftly snap the window closed and lock it while my heart races in my chest.
I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s out there, watching, waiting. For what, though, I have no idea.