M
It was a hot summer morning in the vile, grungy city of Fayetteville, North Carolina. Granted, in the few short weeks I'd been here, it seemed that every morning started out hot and only got worse throughout the day. Maybe it was the unfamiliar humidity, and the feeling of constantly breathing through a wet sponge, but my body was reacting strangely to this place. I was so tired. I couldn't seem to jump-start my sluggish brain, either; I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending fog, almost floating through it in a dream-like suspension.
Driving in this physical and mental state was probably dangerous, but I had things to do today. And my first task was to fight the traffic and reach my friend Delia's house. From there, as far as I understood it, we'd be loading up an entire litter of sick puppies and taking them to the vet; most likely they'd be put to sleep.
Not what I'd wanted to do; Delia's animal problems were, in my opinion, her own fault. She was an animal hoarder. Three dogs, two cats, two rabbits, and a gerbil. And a ferret. And two snakes. And one bird. Oh, and the six puppies. Six sick puppies.
It was like a tiny, dysfunctional version of Noah's Ark.
With a sigh, I turned into her driveway, feeling pleased with myself for having remembered the address. It was only the second time I'd been here, and as I shut off the car and reached for the door handle, my eyes passed quickly over the scene, so much the same as last week; unkempt lawn threatening to take over the driveway and sidewalk- check. Red brick house with faded, chipped blue shutters- check. Small covered front porch with cracked concrete steps up to the door- check. Tall, sandy-haired frat boy gone to seed leaning on a post smoking a cigarette- wait, what?
Who the heck is that? I thought, my heart beginning to speed up. I double-checked my memory against the rusted numbers on the house; this was the right place. The man must be someone Delia knew, so I had no reason to feel the little flutter of fear in my stomach. No reason at all.
Getting my nerves under control, I slowly exited the vehicle, keeping my eyes on the stranger in this strange place.
As I moved towards the house, he watched me. I could feel his stare as much as see it, and my skin started prickling; but that, too, could have simply been the blasted humidity. I stopped on the bottom step, leaving myself in the too-bright sun light, looking up into the shade of the porch.
Neither of us spoke for a few uncomfortable seconds. Based on the cold, indifferent expression on his face, I didn't think he'd be the one to break the silence, and anyway, a small part of my brain remembered the manners I'd been taught, so I said, "Hi..." and waited for him to deign to respond.
I counted to twenty. No reply. Well, this was...obnoxious. I tried again.
"Um...is Delia home?"
The man took a long drag off his cigarette, and on the exhale, finally spoke. "She's out back."
Apparently, he was going to make me do all the work. "Oh...well, she's expecting me. Could I come in?"
"You're Emma." he informed me.
"Yes, I know." I replied, unsure if I should just come back later, or wait and see if Delia might rescue me from this...creep.
"You're, what, seventeen? Eighteen?" Another drag, another cloud of smoke.
This was wasting my time, not to mention making me feel very small and insignificant, so I crossed my arms defensively and said, "Actually, I'm ninety-five. Look, Delia wanted my help with the puppies, so I hope you don't mind if I just go on back." I started off, trudging through the wet, warm grass. Everything here was in a permanent state of "soggy". It made me miss home, which was just shy of miraculous; nobody missed that part of Colorado, once they'd left it.
Just as I reached the wooden gate to enter the jungle that was Delia's back yard, something grabbed my hair, pulling me up short and almost knocking me flat on my back. I shut my eyes against the acute pain, barely registering the words murmured against my neck- I know who you are. I know your heart.
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Lord, help me. It's happening again, and I can't fight it anymore.
I woke up slowly, coming out of the darkness in stages, each one bringing with it a little more of the real world, a little more security. I was in my own bed. I was, for the moment, unharmed.
Driving in this physical and mental state was probably dangerous, but I had things to do today. And my first task was to fight the traffic and reach my friend Delia's house. From there, as far as I understood it, we'd be loading up an entire litter of sick puppies and taking them to the vet; most likely they'd be put to sleep.
Not what I'd wanted to do; Delia's animal problems were, in my opinion, her own fault. She was an animal hoarder. Three dogs, two cats, two rabbits, and a gerbil. And a ferret. And two snakes. And one bird. Oh, and the six puppies. Six sick puppies.
It was like a tiny, dysfunctional version of Noah's Ark.
With a sigh, I turned into her driveway, feeling pleased with myself for having remembered the address. It was only the second time I'd been here, and as I shut off the car and reached for the door handle, my eyes passed quickly over the scene, so much the same as last week; unkempt lawn threatening to take over the driveway and sidewalk- check. Red brick house with faded, chipped blue shutters- check. Small covered front porch with cracked concrete steps up to the door- check. Tall, sandy-haired frat boy gone to seed leaning on a post smoking a cigarette- wait, what?
Who the heck is that? I thought, my heart beginning to speed up. I double-checked my memory against the rusted numbers on the house; this was the right place. The man must be someone Delia knew, so I had no reason to feel the little flutter of fear in my stomach. No reason at all.
Getting my nerves under control, I slowly exited the vehicle, keeping my eyes on the stranger in this strange place.
As I moved towards the house, he watched me. I could feel his stare as much as see it, and my skin started prickling; but that, too, could have simply been the blasted humidity. I stopped on the bottom step, leaving myself in the too-bright sun light, looking up into the shade of the porch.
Neither of us spoke for a few uncomfortable seconds. Based on the cold, indifferent expression on his face, I didn't think he'd be the one to break the silence, and anyway, a small part of my brain remembered the manners I'd been taught, so I said, "Hi..." and waited for him to deign to respond.
I counted to twenty. No reply. Well, this was...obnoxious. I tried again.
"Um...is Delia home?"
The man took a long drag off his cigarette, and on the exhale, finally spoke. "She's out back."
Apparently, he was going to make me do all the work. "Oh...well, she's expecting me. Could I come in?"
"You're Emma." he informed me.
"Yes, I know." I replied, unsure if I should just come back later, or wait and see if Delia might rescue me from this...creep.
"You're, what, seventeen? Eighteen?" Another drag, another cloud of smoke.
This was wasting my time, not to mention making me feel very small and insignificant, so I crossed my arms defensively and said, "Actually, I'm ninety-five. Look, Delia wanted my help with the puppies, so I hope you don't mind if I just go on back." I started off, trudging through the wet, warm grass. Everything here was in a permanent state of "soggy". It made me miss home, which was just shy of miraculous; nobody missed that part of Colorado, once they'd left it.
Just as I reached the wooden gate to enter the jungle that was Delia's back yard, something grabbed my hair, pulling me up short and almost knocking me flat on my back. I shut my eyes against the acute pain, barely registering the words murmured against my neck- I know who you are. I know your heart.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord, help me. It's happening again, and I can't fight it anymore.
I woke up slowly, coming out of the darkness in stages, each one bringing with it a little more of the real world, a little more security. I was in my own bed. I was, for the moment, unharmed.