Chapter Two
Noelle
Ugh. Worst two weeks of my life.
With this being my first full year as a teacher, it’s also the first time I’ve never had to work during Christmas break.
Even in college, when everyone else went home, I always took the holidays shifts to cover for people so I’d have something to distract me during the most miserable time of the year.
Why can’t I get two weeks off for Halloween instead? At least I’d be able to have fun with my break.
But no, the American education system values the winter holidays and all the quality time we get with family during this dreadful season. So I’m stuck at home for two weeks wallowing in misery.
I’ve only been on break for three days and I’ve already watched every Halloween franchise movie currently out. I guess I could watch Criminal Minds for the millionth time. Maybe my comfort show will boost my mood.
But no Criminal Minds marathon is complete without snacks.
It was a risk going to the store with the weather report guaranteeing a foot of snow but I made it back in time with a bag full of candy and frozen dinners.
A foot of snow my ass. We hit a foot of snow about three feet ago. Ok, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But if I’d gone out any later, there’s no way I would have made it home. The snow plows won’t make it to this part of town until morning.
Thankfully, my quick trip to the store means I’m set for a snowed in, guilt free binge night. Time to watch some wholesome serial killer television.
I change into a cute little matching set with cherries all over it in the hopes it’ll improve my mood. Every girl has a pair in the back of her drawer for nights when she needs to feel extra. When she needs to remember “I am that bitch.”
But all my efforts to make myself feel a little less down are thrust aside when the incessant moans of my upstairs neighbors over powers the volume on my show.
There’s no better way to be reminded how painfully single you are than to listen to your neighbors bang on a regular basis. And just like clockwork, Rex is home from work so he and Mel start going to pound town. Loudly.
Their bedroom is directly above mine in this cookie-cutter apartment complex.
Since a fresh coat of paint and a new carpet doesn’t really count as remodeling, I don’t think the infrastructure is up to code.
Which means the walls are paper thin and I can hear every moan and squeal coming from above me.
Every. Damn. Time.
Most nights, I just bear it with hostile, passive aggressive rage.
But on nights like this when I’m already on edge, I bang the handle of a broom against the ceiling as a not-so-subtle way of telling them to shut the hell up.
You’d think the consistent bang of the broom would ruin the mood, right?
Wrong! If they’re fucking loud enough, they can’t even hear me.
Regardless, I’m already irritated from being bombarded with Christmas music at the store and the anxiousness of being idle for three days that I just want to enjoy my crime show in peace.
It’s a broom night.
I set the bag of Nerds Clusters on the nightstand before flinging the comforter off and storming to the door, aiming for the broom I keep in the hallway closet.
So imagine my surprise when I swing the door open and find the imposing figure of a tall man’s silhouette standing just a few feet from me.
I should scream, I should definitely scream.
I should call for help. But I think my brain is short-circuiting because I can’t find the mental capacity to make my body move.
I just stare at the intruder while he stares back at me.
At least I presume that’s what he’s doing because I can’t see his face in the dark, just his unmoving, lean but muscular form.
I’m going to die. I didn’t think this is how I’d go out, I would have pictured something a little more reckless like my bungee cord snapping or my parachute not working when I finally cross those things off my bucket list. But no, it looks like I’m going to die by the hands of a stranger in my apartment and no one will find the body until I don’t report to work after break.
I’m sure Sasha will devour my corpse before anyone even realizes I’m dead.
I love that bitchy cat but without me to feed her three times a day, she probably wouldn’t hesitate to eat me instead.
Oh no, I hope he doesn’t kill my cat too.
I’m just about to beg for my cat’s life when the guy asks, “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?”