Текст книги "When We Met"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

Соавторы: Molly McAdams,A. L. Jackson,Tiffany King
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

chapter two

Indy

I stepped back as one of my housemates, Chloe, ran through the house to leave for work, and called out a good-bye before I heard the door shut. Walking through the kitchen, I pulled my thick hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and grabbed a soda before joining Misha and my third housemate, Courtney, in the living room.

Neither was talking. The TV was on a music channel, but it was turned down low as they both did homework. I knew I needed to finish this paper, but I couldn’t concentrate on it . . . All I could think about was Kier and how weird it had been to talk to him today. How I’d felt like I’d known him—how every time he spoke, I had the craziest sense of déjà vu . . . like we’d already had that same conversation before. But that was ridiculous; he never talked to anyone, including me. He was absurdly quiet. Not just in comparison to the other guys next door, but compared to anyone.

With a huff, I tried to push thoughts of him out of my mind and pulled my laptop onto my crossed legs, determined to finish this stupid paper. Twenty minutes later, I had written the word the and was staring blankly at the screen . . . only seeing a pair of honey-gold eyes, a too-perfect smile, and black, messy hair.

“Misha,” I whispered. Why I was whispering, I had no clue.

“Hmm?” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in my direction but didn’t look up from her laptop.

“Misha,” I repeated, this time harder.

She looked up at me this time. “Yeah?”

“What do you know about Kier?”

Both eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything.

“Kier—neighbor, Kier—lives with Darryn. Really quiet, doesn’t ever talk.”

“I know who he is. He’s actually really nice. I’m just surprised you know him.”

I sat back against the couch and made a face. “Why?”

“Because—well, because like you said. He doesn’t talk.”

“But you just said he’s really nice. Which means you’ve talked to him.”

She shrugged and looked back at her laptop. “Only a couple times, and it was just a few words. I think I only heard him talk because I was sitting there with Darryn.” Her dark eyes flickered over to me. “Why are you asking about him?”

“He drove me to class today. Apparently we have a class together and I had no idea. And he didn’t talk a lot, but he talked. It was weird. Nice, but weird.” When I looked up, Misha was just staring at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me weird. It’s not nothing. Is there something about him I should know? Is he a creeper or something?”

Misha laughed softly. “I doubt he would be living with the guys if he were. From what Darryn says, he just doesn’t talk a lot.”

“Do you know why? Because he doesn’t seem shy.” And why was I so interested in knowing about Kier all of a sudden?

She shook her head and looked back down at her laptop. “Not shy. Just isn’t one for talking, that’s what I know.” Her fingers began moving over the keys again, and my shoulders sagged in defeat.

I wanted to know why he was so cryptic, and why I felt like I knew him and could trust him when I hadn’t said more than five words to him before this afternoon. I wanted to know why he gave me little, knowing smiles like I was missing some private joke that I was supposed to be in on.

None of it made sense. He didn’t make sense. But for the life of me I wanted to make sense out of what was pulling me to him.

* * *

My feet pounded rhythmically against the concrete, and my breath came out in puffs of little clouds in front of me as I pushed to finish the last bit of my run the next morning. I’d barely slept last night as I went over every detail of every word that had passed Kier’s lips, and I was paying for it this morning. Even cutting half a mile off my normal distance, I felt like I had tried to run double what I normally did.

Three more blocks . . . three more blocks, I chanted to myself. Two more. Even the music blaring through my earbuds couldn’t pump me up enough to finish hard. I didn’t even know what song was playing as I tried not to collapse. Just then, my eyes caught the paper tucked under my windshield wipers, and I stopped running.

Looking around the empty street as I walked over to my car, I had one of those flashes. Like I was about to be in a bad horror movie, and people were screaming, “Don’t go over there! Run away!”

I rolled my eyes and ripped the paper away from the windshield. Unfolding it, I read the words twice, my heart pounding harder than it had been during my run.

We tried jumping it, still wouldn’t start. Went and got you a new battery, she’s running great now.

My lower legs had been a weird, stinging mix of cool and hot as the freezing air blew around me, and I knew my ears, nose, and cheeks had been bright red from the cold and my run—but now I didn’t feel the cold. I didn’t feel the shakiness from pushing myself even though I’d been too exhausted for my run this morning. My cheeks were now filled with heat as I just stood there staring at the paper, my breathing too fast as I thought about what he’d done for me.

Embarrassment and wonder coursed through my body and I slowly turned my head to look up at the house next to ours. People didn’t take care of me. Not anymore. Dean had been there for me when I broke and fell too far when it felt like my entire world was crashing down on me—but it’d been a lie. And this? This was different. This was . . . too much.

I walked up to their house on shaky legs, the note clenched tightly in my fist as I stood at the front door for a few seconds before knocking. When there was no answer, I knocked again, harder this time. Less than a minute later, Kier answered the door.

“You . . . ,” I whispered, and pointed behind me in the direction of my car.

“Indy?”

I ground my jaw when my eyes began to sting, and when no words could make it past the tightness in my throat, I launched myself at him—throwing my arms around his waist and burying my head in his chest. “Thank you,” I choked out.

He laughed awkwardly, and hesitantly wrapped one of his arms around my back. Pressing his closed fist under my chin, he leaned away from me and tilted my head back so he could look at me. “For what?”

Unwrapping the arm holding the note, I held my hand up between us. “My car. You fixed it. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Please tell me how much it cost. I’ll pay you back.”

Kier released me, and his lips tilted up in the corners. “As much as I love having a beautiful girl throw herself at me . . . I didn’t fix your car.”

I blinked quickly. “What?”

“I didn’t fix your car, Indy.” He shrugged. “That was Darryn and Misha. I saw them working on it when I came back from an early class this morning.”

My face fell, and I took a step back. Oh. My. God. I’d been so wrapped up in the enigma standing in front of me that I’d started making everything about him. “Oh my God,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry, I just—oh God.” I dropped my head to stare at the porch, my eyes wide with mortification.

“Indy, it’s fine. I’m glad your car’s running now.”

I nodded, not looking back up at him. “Uh, I’ll, uh . . . see you later.” Never. I never wanted him to see me again. The girl who didn’t even know he was in her class. The girl who launched herself at him for apparently no reason. The girl who couldn’t remember his name.

Turning, I jogged down the few steps and took off for our house. I slammed the door behind me, still running until I found Misha and her boyfriend at the table in the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and stood, her expression worried.

“No—yes—I just, oh my God.” I pointed in the direction of the house next to ours and looked at Darryn. “I thought . . . I’m such an idiot,” I groaned, and sagged against the counter.

“Because none of that made sense,” Darryn said.

I laughed lamely and covered my face with my hands. “I know. I’m full of win this morning.” Looking back at them, I took a deep breath and hoped I could make them understand how grateful I was for what they had done. “Thank you both so much for fixing my car. Please tell me how much the battery cost and I’ll pay you back.”

They gave each other a look, and Darryn glanced at me before his eyes darted to the floor. “Uh, we—”

“Just think of it as a late birthday present,” Misha said, cutting him off before shooting Darryn a look.

“I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. Because I won’t be telling you how much it cost.”

“Misha,” I complained, but knew she wasn’t going to give on this. “If I wasn’t covered in sweat right now, I’d hug you both.” It hit me then that I’d just hugged Kier. Oh God, kill me now.

A small smile crossed her face. “No need, really.”

“Thank you guys, again.” Pushing away from the counter, I went upstairs to shower and try to forget how badly I’d just humiliated myself. I’d gotten halfway through my junior year without talking to Kier. It wouldn’t be that hard to go back to how it had been before yesterday.

And it hadn’t been hard. Well, it had, and it hadn’t. It’d been nine days since I thanked him for the battery he hadn’t even bought for me, but it’d been impossible to forget about the quiet guy next door. I looked for him during the party at their house a couple of days later, but before long I’d gotten lost in drinking games—not that I would have said anything if I had seen him. And even though I knew he was in the back left corner of the lecture hall in our class on Monday and Wednesday, I refused to look back there, even though everything in me was screaming to do so. I didn’t remember anything from those classes other than once they were over, I’d let out a relieved breath.

After looking for him for a few minutes at the neighbors’ party tonight, I’d given up. It was stupid to look for him. I’d never seen him at one of these parties anyway. For all I knew, he wasn’t even here tonight. He could be at work if he had a job; he could be out with his girlfriend—oh my God. He could have a girlfriend.

“He could have a girlfriend!” I said out loud, and the guy I was curled up against on the couch gave me a funny look.

“What?”

I threw my hands up in the air. “This whole time I’ve been– Where the fuck did this bread come from?”

The guy laughed loudly, and curled his arm around my waist. “Baby, you are wasted. You keep forgetting about it, but you’ve been holding it for an hour at least.”

I stared at the gold foil as I leaned away from his body. I didn’t like the way he called me “baby.” “Did you give this bread to me?”

“No, and you won’t let anyone touch it.” He pulled me back toward him, his mouth going to my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Mm. No, no.” I made a sound of disapproval as I scrambled away from him and off the couch, taking a few seconds to get myself steady when I was standing.

Holding the bread close to my chest, I moved through the tightly packed bodies, needing air. I don’t know why I didn’t go toward the front door. It would have made more sense to leave and go to my house, but before I knew what I was doing, I was standing in front of a door in the hall on the first floor.

“Safe room,” I mumbled to myself, and tapped my finger against the wood.

Unrolling the top of the foil, I tore off a piece of the warm bread and put it in my mouth as I continued to stare at the door, like if I stood there long enough, it would do something for me.

It didn’t.

I let my forehead fall roughly against the door and whined, “Stupid safe room. You didn’t go all wardrobe on me and lead me to Narnia.”

The door swung open and I stumbled forward.

“Shit—I got you,” a deep voice grunted as a pair of arms caught me and helped get me standing again. “Guess it’s time to go home?”

I looked up and gasped. “You. You have a girlfriend!”

Golden eyes widened with shock. “What?”

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You don’t?” I breathed, and staggered closer to his body. His hands tightened on my upper arms to keep me where I was. My lips fell into a pout. “And you didn’t fix my car.”

He laughed softly and moved to wrap one arm around my back. “Hold on to your bread, Indy.”

I held up the bag and shrugged. “I don’t know where it came from,” I murmured. “But it’s delicious.”

“I bet it is. Up you go.” He lifted me into his arms, and I squealed.

“No, no! No!” I said sternly, my eyebrows slamming down.

“If you’re in my room, then it’s time to get you back to yours.”

My face fell, and I kept my eyes trained on the bread in my hands as he walked us down the hall, through the people at the party, and out the door. “I bothered you. In your room. That was your room, not Narnia.”

He missed a step and tightened his grip on me as loud laughs burst from his chest. “Narnia? What the hell did you drink tonight, Indy?”

I tried to glare at him, but I probably just looked like a three-year-old not getting her way. “It was the safe door. It was supposed to be magic,” I whispered. “No magic.”

He did stop walking then. “What did you just say?”

“No magic,” I repeated.

“Before that.”

I stared at his face for a few seconds before popping a piece of bread in my mouth. “I don’t remember,” I said honestly. “Why are you carrying me?”

“Because you would fall otherwise.”

“Nu-uh.”

“You did the first night,” he grumbled, and looked away.

I stopped chewing. “What first night?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He began walking again, his hardened eyes straight ahead.

“Cookie?” I asked when we walked into my house.

He snorted as he kicked the front door to my house shut. “You’ve called me a lot of names, but that’s definitely a new one. No.”

“I know your name,” I said, and held up my hand. “Do you want a cookie?”

His dark eyebrows pinched together. “That’s bread, Indy, not a cookie.”

I looked at the bread and frowned before offering it back up to him. “It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. “We can pretend it’s a cookie.”

He smiled wryly at me before dipping his head and biting the food out of my hand. “Amazing cookie.”

I watched his mouth as he chewed, and didn’t know if I should be embarrassed by the fact that my breathing was heavy now. “My room is—”

“On the second floor,” he finished for me. “I know.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Why’d you call my door the safe door?” he countered, his eyes flicking to my face for a second before he began climbing the stairs with me still in his arms.

This felt familiar . . . and right. But that couldn’t be right, because I’d only talked to Kier twice, a week and a half ago.

“Indy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you call my door the safe door?”

“When did I call it that?”

He exhaled heavily but didn’t say anything else as he finished walking up the stairs and straight into my room. My eyebrows pinched together, and I wondered again how he knew where my room was, but before I could ask, he was lowering me onto the bed and pulling the bread from my hands.

“This is mine,” I complained, and tried to pull it back toward me.

“I know it is, but I’m betting you have about five minutes before you’re asleep. And you don’t want to fall asleep with garlic bread in your hands, do you?”

“Yes! Yes, I do!”

A bright smile crossed his face as he uncurled my fingers, one by one. “No, you don’t.” Once it was in his hand, he straightened and looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a few seconds. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Get changed.”

“For what?”

He stopped midturn and looked back at me. “To go to sleep.”

“But I’m not tired,” I insisted when he walked away. He didn’t respond. “I’m not.”

I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know why he never talked to anyone, and why he didn’t have a girlfriend. I wanted to know why he sat in the back of the class, how he knew where my room was, and why he wasn’t the one to fix my car. I wanted to know if he’d been as consumed in thoughts of me the last week and a half as I’d been in thoughts of him.

Unzipping my hoodie, I yanked at the sleeves and fought with the material until it was off my arms and on the floor. Then I grabbed my long-sleeved shirt. But that proved to be much more difficult to deal with. I ended up on my side with one arm hanging out of the hole where my head was supposed to go, and the other caught up in the material along with my head before giving up.

I didn’t need to get undressed anyway, and it was oddly comfortable. Or that could’ve been because I was drunk and any position would be comfortable, but my eyes were already shutting, even though I knew I wanted to stay awake to talk to Kier.

My eyes were shut and my breathing was deep when I heard a low laugh followed by the sound of glass being set down on wood. “Kier?”

“Yeah, Indy?”

“My shirt attacked me,” I mumbled before letting myself go back to the place where sleep was calling me.

“I can see that.”

His hands were touching my arms, maneuvering them through the correct holes of the shirt as he tried to pull it off my body. When he was done, he moved me back so I was lying on the pillows, and I heard his footsteps cross my room before the light behind my eyelids disappeared.

My eyes cracked open, then shut again as he lifted one of my legs to tug my boot off. “Are you staying?”

“No,” he said as the other boot slid off, a dull thud sounding in the otherwise quiet room when it hit the floor. I was so close to sleep that the sound seemed miles away.

I felt a pull on the button of my jeans, and groggily slapped at his hands. “No,” I protested, and tried to open my eyes.

“Don’t kick me, Indy. You’re safe with me. Safe door, remember?” Kier’s voice filled my head seconds before his hands touched my ankles, grabbing the bottoms of my jeans and pulling them down.

“No, no,” I said louder, panic filling my voice as my eyes finally snapped open.

Kier let my pants fall to the floor as he pushed my legs onto the bed and pulled the comforter over my body, his eyes never once on any part of me as he did so. When I was covered, he glanced at me and cupped my cheek. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

He turned and walked from my room, shutting the door behind him as he did. But before he left, his fingers twisted the lock on the doorknob, and I knew he’d made it a safe door. He hadn’t been about to take advantage of me. He was taking care of me, and he was making sure no one was getting in my room tonight.

chapter three

Kier

I jogged down the steps of the house and hurried over to my SUV. As I neared the end of the walkway, movement to my right captured my eye, and I paused when I saw Indy slowing from her run. Her eyes widened before she glanced away, and she looked like she was trying to figure out a way to avoid seeing me.

Two weekends of her remembering my name, but nothing had changed during those weeks. It was painfully awkward to see her now, especially after the morning I’d had Darryn and Misha make Indy believe they’d been the ones to fix her car instead of me. But I hadn’t wanted her to know, just like I didn’t need her to know about how I took care of her every Saturday night. Until she figured it out, there was no point in talking to her about it.

I glanced at my SUV before looking at her again, a grimace tugging at my lips as I decided against what I knew was the right thing to do. “I thought you’d be gone for Thanksgiving break,” I said when she got a little closer.

“We still have classes for a couple days.”

“And? Most people skip them so they can actually have a full week off.”

Her green eyes fell to the straps of my backpack before she looked to the ground. “You’re not.”

“My parents aren’t big on celebrating Thanksgiving.” Or any holiday for that matter, including birthdays. “They take a trip every year instead, so there isn’t much of a point in going home.”

“Without you?” she asked, her eyebrows pinching together when she looked back up at me.

“Most years.”

“That’s sad.”

I laughed. It might have been sad when I was ten, but now it was normal. “Not really. Have your parents ever taken a trip without you?” She didn’t respond for a few seconds, but finally nodded. “That’s all it is. We just don’t do the whole traditional holiday thing, never have. When are you gonna head home?”

“I’m not.”

She looked uncomfortable, so I didn’t press for anything else. When she looked at the ground again, I took that as a cue to leave and turned to walk back to my car.

“What is it about you?”

I paused but didn’t turn around for a few moments, and then it was only to look over my shoulder.

“I don’t know you. Other than right now we’ve only talked to each other twice and it was for a handful of minutes, but I feel like I know you. I feel—I don’t know how to explain it,” she huffed, and a frustrated smile crossed her face. “I’m about to embarrass the hell out of myself, but I don’t care anymore. I feel like when I’m near you, I’m safe, and it makes no sense to me. It is the weirdest feeling to have with someone I only know three things about.”

My eyebrows rose at that and I turned to fully face her. “Three?”

“Yes. Three things. Your name is Kier, you’re extremely quiet, and you are the biggest puzzle I’ve ever tried to figure out.”

“I’m the puzzle?”

“Yes!” she said in exasperation.

That had to have been the most backward statement I’d ever heard. “And why am I a puzzle?”

“Because of what I just told you. I don’t know you, you don’t even talk to anyone, and I feel safe when you’re near me! Why is that? I feel like I’m going crazy because all I’ve been able to think about for these past two weeks is you, and how every time you open your mouth it’s like déjà vu, and I just—I don’t know what’s happening.” Her green eyes were massive and she looked like she was on the edge of losing her shit.

I took a few steps toward her and lowered my voice. “Calm down, Indy. You’re fine.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said loudly, the pitch of her voice rising. “Do you believe in past lives?” she asked suddenly.

I paused, a laugh slipping past my lips. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Past lives? Like that whole stupid YOLO saying is really just bullshit, because we’re about to get another shot down the road?”

I tried to contain my smile, but she was really fucking adorable when she was like this. “What does that have to do with what you’re freaking out over?”

“In stories with soul mates they find each other no matter what in every life. And it’s like they have a weird connection they can’t explain.”

I closed the distance between us and dropped my head so I was looking directly into her eyes. “Are you saying we’re soul mates?”

“No!” she said, horror lacing her voice, her cheeks filling with heat.

“I think you were,” I teased.

“I wasn’t, I was just saying that in stories . . . I don’t know what I’m saying, okay? But I don’t get what’s going on with us!”

“So now there’s an us?”

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I need to stop talking.”

I laughed and took a step back. “I’m teasing you, Indy. And no, I don’t believe in past lives. I think we have this one, and that’s it.”

She sighed, and her body visibly relaxed. When she spoke again, she sounded exhausted—and in a way, defeated. “I don’t, either, but I can’t figure out how to explain this feeling like I know you.”

I ground my jaw for a few seconds as her green eyes held mine. “Because maybe you do know me. You’re just not ready to remember why.”

Her mouth popped open and an audible huff blew past her lips. “What does that even mean?”

“You’ll understand when you think you’re ready, Indy. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Before I could say anything else, and before she could ask more questions, I got into my SUV and drove away.

* * *

Indy

I climbed the stairs up to the attic the next afternoon, enjoying and hating this time alone. I wasn’t leaving for break, but I’d been skipping my classes anyway. I wanted to be alone, needed to be alone. But being alone was also a dangerous thing for me—especially when Thanksgiving was two days away.

It didn’t matter that it was the wrong day. It didn’t matter that I’d already broken down on Saturday—the actual two-year anniversary—and that for the first time in the last two years I’d chosen to forget him rather than grieve for him. It was just that it was that damn day.

It just had to be on a holiday. One that was widely celebrated and changed dates every year—almost as if to torture us that much more. Like, hey—you have two anniversaries for this fucked-up day. Not just one. Congratulations, you. But, at the same time, I feared the year that Thanksgiving fell on the twenty-second again. I would view that day like a bad omen. Only bad would come on that day; I was sure of it.

As I climbed onto the dozens of multisized and colored pillows and blankets that covered the entire floor of our attic, I fought with the knowledge that I needed to be around people. That I should go to a Starbucks at the very least.

Both Chloe and Courtney worked so much that they weren’t going home this break—and I doubted they would go home over winter break. But even though they were still at the house, they weren’t ever here. And with Misha gone, the last couple of days had been practically impossible to get through.

Urges that felt more like repulsive cravings coursed through my body, and my hands impulsively curled into fists as the muscles in my thighs tightened in anticipation for something that wouldn’t come. A soul-deep ache and longing filled my chest, echoed by a much smaller ache to have Dean here, helping me through this. This was the first time I was facing the anniversary alone, and a part of me was terrified I didn’t know how to get through it by myself.

No wonder Dean had cheated and left me. Mess was a nice way of describing my life and me.

I rolled onto my side and curled my knees up to my chest as I tried to hold myself together. I fought with myself to stay here—to not run to someone to make them fix everything. To fix me. Chanting to myself over and over that I just needed to keep breathing through the pain, through the urges, through the grief.

I loved this attic. I loved how quiet and comfortable it was. And now, when all I wanted to do was panic over being alone, I told myself this was what I needed. Quiet. Alone. Peace. No one could fix what had happened. No one could fix me. I needed to do this by myself.

I’d finally been able to stop my damaging form of grief, and hadn’t realized that I’d just replaced it with Dean until we were over. The pride of stopping hadn’t lasted long when I’d started drowning out memories of Dean with drinking.

One form of fucked-up coping to another.

One helping me feel like I could take some of his pain away.

The other making me forget that everyone had given up on me.

But not once in the last two years had I tried to forget him. Not once until this past Saturday . . . and I hated that I’d spit on his memory that way. Two years without him—and instead of drinking to forget about Dean and my parents like I had been doing, I drank to forget my own twin brother.

I was a mess. I was drowning. I felt so fucking lost and was tired of pretending that everything was okay. And for the first time in two years, I was trying to pull myself up without using someone else, and I knew I was failing.

But I wouldn’t go back to where I’d been. I couldn’t. No matter the amount of pain and craving to make it go away, Ian would hate me if he knew what I’d done after his death.

So until I was sure I was okay, I wasn’t leaving this attic. I couldn’t put myself near any temptation. No one was home; no one would hear my anguished cries. The pillows, blankets, and memories of Ian were all I needed right now.

* * *

My eyes cracked open sometime later. The room around me was dark except for the glow of the streetlights filtering in through the attic’s window. My bladder was full, my eyes hurt from crying for hours, and my body was sore from the tension of restraining myself from giving in to my cravings. I licked at my dry lips and reached around me for another blanket before pulling it on top of the other two already surrounding me. It was freezing up here.

Just as my eyes started shutting again, I heard a deep voice call my name. I held my breath and didn’t move as I heard muted voices talking back and forth, and then the sound of quick feet climbing. Before I knew what was happening, the door to the attic opened.

“Where’s the li—”

“Don’t turn it on,” I pled.

“Oh!” Courtney gasped. “God, you scared me! I was coming up to see if you were in here, but still.”

“I’m here.” Obviously. That was stupid, Indy.

“I have to go back to work, but that quiet guy from next door is here looking for you,” she said in a singsong voice.

My heart pounded as I thought about my embarrassing conversation with Kier yesterday. “Did he say why?”

“No,” she said, drawing out the word.

“Uh, can you tell him I’m not here?”

“I guess. If you really want me to.”

“I really want you to.”

She sighed and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Okay. Well, I’ll be back late. Text me if you need anything.”

“Bye,” I mumbled into the pillow.

I tried going back to sleep after she left and I heard the front door shut, but I couldn’t. I had to pee, and now that I’d been awake for more than a few minutes, my stomach was letting me know how neglected it felt. With a groan, I pushed myself awkwardly off the pillows, letting the blankets fall off me, and stumbled my way over to the door and down the stairs. After using the bathroom, I had begun walking toward the main stairs leading to the first floor when something caught my eye, and I paused.

Turning to look on my left, I noticed a light coming through my cracked-open door and raised an eyebrow. I had a bad habit of leaving my door wide-open, and I hated having lights on.

Trying to remain as quiet as possible in the old house, I tiptoed toward my room and held my breath as I reached my door, trying to listen for signs of anyone in there. When I didn’t hear any, I pushed the door open, ready to scream, or run, or turn full-on ninja.

My shoulders sagged and all the air left my chest in a depressed huff when I found nothing in my room out of place. It was super anticlimactic.

I walked out of my room and turned toward the stairs, and a scream tore through my chest as I stumbled back before tripping over myself and falling hard on my butt.