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1
KAITLYN
Frankie whines by the front door and when I shoot her a glance, she’s flashing me a pair of blue eyes that say, ‘If you don’t take me outside right now, I will pee on everything you love.’
“Alright, girl,” I place a hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn as I roll off the couch. I’ve had a long, busy day of doing nothing. The least I could do is walk Frankie before the sun goes down. It might be cooler when the sidewalks aren’t 125 degrees and you don’t break a sweat opening a door, but when my girl’s gotta go, she’s gotta go.
I pull on a pair of flip-flops and grab Frankie’s leash. She’s bouncing back and forth with eager excitement to go outside. I hope she doesn’t want to stay long because I don’t know if I can bear the heat. The dog days of summer are here and unless we’re going to hang out at the apartment complex pool, I’d rather be somewhere with AC.
The hallway is empty as I pull the door shut behind me. My keys are inside, but we aren’t going far anyway. Just a quick trip to the grass outside and then we’ll be back.
Two men loiter around the entrance to my building. They look like they’re in their teens and they’re laughing about some joke a friend told them. I hear the wordsprankandfill his car with chicken feathersand I figure that they’re pretty harmless. But I still clutch Frankie’s leash a little tighter as I pass them.
“Hey, girl,” one of them says as he opens the door for me to exit, “that’s a beautiful dog.”
I was braced for an awkward pick-up line, but instead, he gives Frankie a few head pats and smiles at me. “Thanks,” I return his smile, “she’s a border collie.”
He nods his head like that explains it. “She’s mad cute.”
I nod my head at him and pass through the exit. As the door shuts behind me, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Those two boys posed no threat to me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to be around the two of them alone. Like many women, I’ve been the type to clutch my keys while walking back to my car. I’ve avoided walking down ill-lit streets alone at night and I’ve crossed to the other side of the street when I came across a group of men. Nothing has happened to me, it’s just something I do out of safety. I’ve heard horror stories from my friends and women online and even when a man looks nice and polite, I always make sure I can protect myself in a situation if one should arise.
The blast of warm air from walking outside doesn’t hit me until I’m halfway down the stairs. It’s like running into a stagnant, disgusting fog of humidity and heat. The thick air makes me wish I’d brought a water bottle.
Frankie bounds down the stairs two at a time and when we reach a patch of grass, she is quick to relieve herself. She’s such a good girl. I wish it wasn’t a million degrees out here so I could take her on the walk she deserves. She loves to sniff the flowers and meet the neighbors. It’s a large complex with five buildings; there’s plenty to see and Frankie unearths something new every time.
But even she isn’t a fan of the heat. After doing her business, she starts panting as if she just finished a lap of zoomies around the living room. “You ready to go inside, babe?” I crouch down to pet her and she meets me with a lick on the cheek. I wobble and almost fall backward, but Frankie steadies me by pulling me toward the stairs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
After doing nothing all day, getting in and out of a crouched position feels like a workout. “I should have gone to the gym today,” I tell Frankie. She’s several feet ahead of me, pulling me up the stairs one by one. “Now I just feel like I wasted the day.” Granted, it’s my day off, but I still shouldn’t have been so lazy. Did I really need to spend the last five hours rewatching Grey’s Anatomy? Could I have spent it better? Maybe meal prepping for next week or finding a new hobby.
That’s what goes through my head as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the third floor. I make a promise to myself that next weekend I’ll go to Hobby Lobby and look into their craft kits. Maybe I’ll start making soap or painting or something. But by the time I’m back inside the building just a few seconds later, I already know that isn’t going to happen. I’m idealistic about my weekend plans, but when Saturday comes around, I’ll be the first person to sleep in and spend the day relaxing.
Frankie leads me back down the hallway toward our apartment. As I’m considering the idea of looking up some meal prep ideas on Pinterest, I see one of the teenage boys from a few minutes ago, except he isn’t loitering at the entrance to the building anymore. Instead, he stands in front of my apartment door and looks left and right. When he catches me in his sights, he starts talking to someone out of view.
My stomach flips over as I realize that the door to my apartment is open and the other boy must be inside. I reach for my phone in my back pocket and hover my thumb over the power button. “Hey,” I greet tentatively as I come up on the two of them, “what are you guys doing here?” Silently, quietly, I click the power button five times. Apple built in a feature that clicking it five times will call 911. I’ve never needed to use it before today but I hope it works.
The guy standing outside is the same one that said Frankie was mad cute. I take in his appearance this time around a la Taken-style. Brown hair. 5’10”, give or take. Heavier build, like a former football player. Tribal tattoo peeking out of his t-shirt.
“We thought this was our aunt’s place,” he says with an easygoing smile. “All these apartments look alike, ya know?”
My heart is galloping in my chest as I clench Frankie’s leash. She looks at the guy with a tilted head and her tongue hanging out, but she’s not an attack dog. “Oh.” I try to swallow the lump that is forming in my throat, but I can’t seem to get my saliva past it. “Well, it’s my place.” I try for the same nonchalance that he just had, but it doesn’t work. I hear the tremor in my voice and feel my hands shaking. I can’t see the guy inside my apartment, but I hear him rummaging around. “Mind leaving?”
“My buddy’s on the balcony,” he says after a second, “he was checking out the view.” But if his friend was on the balcony, why do I hear him zipping up a backpack?
Behind me comes a voice. “Hello?” It sounds far away but I know it’s coming from my phone. “This is 911. Do you need assistance?” And I’m not the only one who hears it. The boy with the tattoo frowns before lunging for me, grabbing my arm, and wrenching the phone out of my grasp.
“What the fuck is this?” He swears. After a second, he shuts off the call. I open my mouth to scream for help, but he gives me a look and says, “Don’t even think about it.”
I’m about to turn around and run when he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a gun. “Get inside,” he orders, pointing it directly at my chest. “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”
He shoves my phone into his back pocket and gestures for me to step inside. My entire body feels numb but I take a step forward, then another. As I cross the threshold of my apartment, I feel the barrel of the gun against the back of my head.
“That’s a good girl,” the man behind me growls, “now go sit on the couch.”
2
KAITLYN
