CORALINE
“And that’s the last one,” Georgia says with enthusiasm as she scissors the last one. “You took it like a champ.”
She pats my shoulder, then discards the stitches into the trash can. She gives me a tight, dry smile as she tugs off her blue-green gloves and tosses them with the rest.
It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
“Thank you.” I run my hands down my thighs. “Where’s Gavin? Shouldn’t he have been back by now? It’s getting late.” I suppress the worry in my tone.
“He likes to spend time with the horses.” Georgia huffs.
“I’m going to get going. The nights during a snowstorm are the most brutal,” she says and heads out of the living room.
She stands before the front door, bracing her beanie on top of her head and pushing it down until it covers her ears.
“I’ve got to make sure Merelyn gets to bed okay. ”
“I left a meal for you and Gavin,” Merelyn adds just as she hooks her arm in Georgia’s.
“I cooked it before the electricity went out. It’s still good to eat.
Please make sure my guy eats if you see him tonight,” Merelyn says as her face lightens, pleading genuinely.
She speaks like a motherly figure. Every time she mentions or looks at Gavin, her expression softens with a hint of sadness glimmering in her gaze.
“He can be stubborn that way. He’s always working and taking care of others that he forgets to take care of himself,” she adds, zipping up her jacket.
“Thank you, Merelyn. That’s very kind of you. I’ll make sure he eats.”
I’m eating in silence, a dinner full of unanswered questions running through my mind as I finish the last forkful of grilled chicken and broccoli. I stare at his empty chair with only the sound of my chewing to fill the tense void.
Where is he? He won’t let me go to the crash site, but he can leave to God knows where?
And why is there a newspaper about a serial killer in his basement? Is he just really into true crime?
Wait.
What if the man who is after me is The Sleepy Coldwater Serial Killer? What if I’m his next victim? Maybe Gavin…
Oh gosh. I need to get out of my head.
Collecting my spoon and plate, I head into the kitchen and wash the dishes. More heavy snow hits the window, followed by sleet and ice. Then, there’s a boom of lightning. The thunder rattles the entire ranch-style cabin home, making the light come back on for a second before it goes out again.
That same gust of cold wind is back, ghosting my skin, making the hairs on my nape rise. As I shut off the sink water, it feels like someone is watching me from behind. The aura of a shadow lurking somewhere I cannot see.
Frozen from head to toe, I whirl around to check if it’s Gavin.
I can see my breath detailed in a white puff of air swirling above my lips as the cold continues to bite me back with no remorse. There’s nobody here. There’s no one in this haunted cabin but me right now.
His living room is so…plain. It needs a warm touch. Isn’t it Christmas time? Where’s the tree? Where are the pops of classic red shades representing the holiday?
If I’m going to be stuck here for a few weeks, I want to keep busy and help around the house, if I can. But most of all, I need to find my cellphone and figure out who’s trying to kill me so I can report it to the police once the storm is over.
I dry the last dish with a hand towel in circular motions. I place the dry, cleaned bowl back where the rest of them are in his cabinets, right above the toaster. Just as I close it, a man covered in blood all over his face reflects in the cabinet glass.
Fear. Hatred. Darkness. All three emotions are written all over his strained face. His eyes are pure black, radiating with vengeance.
I yelp loud and high.
I turn around fast, gripping a kitchen knife in my hand, and hold it in front of me, ready to spear the intruder. When I glance in front of me, the man is gone. There’s no trace of him anywhere as my head dips left and right, searching every corner for his existence.
My chest violently rocks, blood pounds in my ears as my hands shake around the black handle.
“What the hell is going on with this cabin?”