Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
CINDEL
Whoever this home designer was, definitely didn’t have people sleeping in the living room in mind. How am I supposed to sleep past seven in the morning, when a gigantic skylight engulfs the room in a cheerful morning glow?
I pull my sore body off the stiff couch and shuffle to the kitchen to find some kind of jet fuel, seeing as the sun has tortured me awake.
Sifting through the cabinets, I manage to find some expired instant coffee.
I put a teapot on the burner and began to pull up my hair, as I search for sweetener.
Just as I guide the strands into a high pony, my fingers brush against my ear.
Wait. I try to recall last night. Didn’t I?
I yank open the kitchen drawer where I last left it.
“No, no, no…” It’s not there! My shaky fingers dance over my right ear, removing the item.
I hold the haunting piece of plastic out in front of me; the periwinkle doodle mocks me.
How? Did I—I glanced back to the emerald, green couch I spent last night on, eyes catching on the hearing aid upon a side table. I can’t breathe.
Kingston trots up to me, tail wagging, probably oblivious to my impending heart attack. He just wants to be let out. Taking a staggered breath before attempting to move my feet, Kingston nearly drops something big on my foot.
“Ah! Careful, boy. What’s this?” I picked up the slimy, smelly item.
“Where’d you get this?” It’s a pre-chewed marrow bone and Kingston is just delighted to show me.
He begins scratching the door. “Okay. Okay.” I let the dog outside, put the mystery bone back down on the ground, and washed my hands.
I all but throw the earbud onto the large dining table. Fetching my hearing aid, I sit in the too bright room as my brain struggles to keep up. I didn’t put it on last night. It was supposed to be in the drawer!
“Someone was here,” I speak into the empty room.
I distinctly remember leaving my hearing aids on before bed, so I was able to hear anything out of the ordinary.
My eyes bounce around the room, landing on the massive bone in the kitchen.
I never saw that yesterday. I toured the house.
Kingston didn’t have a bone. Where could he have found this?
Nothing made sense. When I finally stand, I grab a wrought-iron poker stick before surveying the house. What if someone is still here?
Cautiously, I peek around each corner, making sure I don’t see anything before progressing. The main bedroom and bathroom… clear. The kitchen and living room… clear. The last room is the study. The door is closed. Okay. If someone is in there… swing!
I throw the door open with a shove and hold out the metal stick in a defensive move.
I tried fencing once in high school, but this is much heavier.
Stillness. Entering slowly, I scan each corner of the room.
I glimpse under the large desk then make my way to the closet.
Someone had to have been here, but would they be stupid enough to stick around?
I place my hand on the knob of the wooden accordion closet.
Ready to pull back and protect myself at the same time…
without warning, a high-pitched whistling makes me jump!
Instinctively, I drop the wrought iron tool, and it tumbles to the floor, landing roughly on my foot. “Ahhhh, Fuck!” I’m so on edge; the damn tea kettle gives me a jump scare. My foot instantly pulses with pain and already I can see the top part, beginning to swell.
I hobble to the kitchen and throw open the freezer door.
Grabbing a bag of frozen peas, I drop it onto the top of my foot.
Then proceed to drag myself to the screeching pot and remove it from the stove.
A compilation of scratching sounds at the door causes me to gasp.
It’s just Kingston. He’s pawing at the door, indicating he was done with his business and ready to come inside. Jesus.
I pivot and hop on one foot to let him in. This time, I choose to stay on the floor. A happy pooch with his bone and a skittish girl with her bag of frozen veg.
A few hours of elevating my foot and rotations between frozen peas, corn, and butternut squash; the swelling has gone down, but I’m left with a giant bruise and a limp.
I don’t know if I’m madder at myself or the situation at hand, but I know I can’t leave.
Any sane person may try to call the police, but my past experiences with law enforcement were less than ideal. Basically, they’re fucking useless.
They barely investigated my brother’s death.
Simply closing the case as a classic overdose.
I later found out the coroner’s report read: Suicide.
I didn’t want to believe it. Even after three years, I still have my doubts, but I learned one thing…
unless concrete evidence was served up on a silver platter, the police don’t care.
I can see it now… officer, I feel like I’m being watched, and I keep losing track of my earbud. Yeah, I sound absolutely bananas.
I thrust myself into my work instead. Finishing up a substantial collection of earrings, a little after lunch.
I am pleased with how they turned out for my first go.
They’re going to make a nice addition at the craft fair.
After I have another can of soup, with some saltines I found in the cupboard, I go out to the garden.
I spend a long while just sitting on a stone bench, staring at the guest house.
Trying to convince myself to take a shower.
All my stuff is in there and I haven’t been back since I locked myself up in the main house last night.
With a push and a groan, I hobble to the door of the guest house.
To my surprise, it was unlocked. I must have forgotten to lock it.
Entering the small suite, I am taken aback.
Every kind of sour candy and chocolate mini bar I could think of, decorated the bed.
I feel lightheaded. I’m not going crazy. It wasn’t like this before!
Scanning the yard between me and the main house, I see no signs of movement aside from birds landing in their feeder.
Promptly, I close myself in the suite and lock the door behind me.
As quickly as I can muster, I limp around the room closing the curtains.
I check under the bed and confirm, I’m alone.
My foot screams at me to get off my feet. I am tired and in pain. This whole situation is ludicrous, to be quite frank. Fuck it. I draw a bath, while I wait for the water to fill the claw footed tub I attempt to slow my mind.
See if I can make sense of anything from last night.
This person… this stalker knows an uncomfortable amount of information.
No one has paid this close attention to me for a long time.
Whatever their intentions, they don’t seem to want to hurt me.
I mean, I was sleeping and they didn’t do anything but put the earbud in my ear.
They even locked the house door. All I know is they aren’t here now.
So, I undress. Removing everything, including my hearing aids.
Carefully, I slid my aching form into the warm water.
The tub back at the apartment isn’t quite as large.
I can completely submerge my whole body into this one.
Filling my lungs, I descend into the water, head and all…
hoping for clarity. Weightless. Only the endless roaring to keep me company.
Plunged into abandonment, I’m still overwhelmed.
My mouth opens, releasing a forced, hollow scream.
It’s silent. Meant for no one. I can only feel it tear through me.
I wished to be more comfortable with myself.
It’s always been Theo and me. Then Andrea and me, and now it’s just… now it’s just me.
I’ve never desired attention, but there is something about having at least one person who gets you.
Someone who recognizes what makes your soul sing, grasps your sense of humor, and is okay to sit idly by your side, when and if you need it.
I feel like I’ve lost that, the older I become.
Could I learn to be content on my own? Why did the idea of a stranger desiring me make me feel something?
Confused, curious, and yearning? Breaking the surface, I come back to reality.
Instantly, I’m hit by a wave of overpowering emotions.
The loss of my brother, my parents leaving Boston, countless dead-end jobs, Brodi disappearing on me, nearly being assaulted by my manager, Cassie dying, Andrea and I not being as close, and now…
whatever the hell is going on here. I can’t handle any more; I need to escape these intrusive thoughts.
My psyche is spiraling down the drain and my god damned foot hurts.
I just want to stop thinking... feel better.
My hand begins to travel down my curves to the space between my legs.
Desperate for a distraction. I need to be released from this mindset.
My slender fingers dip inside, curling at just the right angle.
My body is begging to move toward the good instead of the bad.
Gradually, I switch between moving my fingers in and out, to making small circles on my clit.
I totter my piercing back and forth, concentrating on pushing myself to the edge.
My phone was still in the house, so I have to use my imagination instead of porn to get me there.
I lack control over where my mind goes when I’m feeling troubled.
I want desire, I need passion. Someone who only has eyes for me.
My brain creates a movie. I picture Eamon pinning me against the wall.
His eyes crazed as he took what he wanted from me.
My fingers move in faster circles, causing my hips to rise.
Guiding myself toward a release. Using my other hand, I press my palm right above my pubic bone, feeling that delicious pressure.
The tension drives me further toward the edge.
My imagination morphs my pursuer, as he paws at my tits while lifting me to position himself at just the right angle.
I picture a tall, shadowed figure, pulling my panties to the side and sliding himself in with nothing but a fist full of spit.
His sinful groan resonates through me, conquering any sound of ringing in my mind.
I unravel. Falling headfirst into pleasure.
A muted scream tears through me, and I can sense the stress leaving my body.
Straight away I’m relaxed. I don’t think I’ve done that in months.