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I’d been holding a carton of eggs, and I dropped them, shocked that he’d outright said that, shells and yolk ricocheting everywhere.
Just then, Mrs. Detweiler ambled in, her gaze flicking between her husband and me suspiciously. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, her eyes stopping on the ruined eggs all over the floor.
Marie had once been a pretty woman, but like her husband, her attempt to hold onto youth was a miserable failure. Right now, she was wearing a too tight flowered dress that resembled a couch from the eighties. It accented every roll, and there was a fine sheen of sweat across her heavily made up face, probably from the effort she’d had to make to get out of her armchair and storm in here. Her hair was a harsh, bottle-black color, and though she attempted to curl and keep it nice, it was thin and limp and I’m sure disappointing for her.
I usually didn’t pay attention to looks; I knew better than most they could be deceiving, but Todd and Marie Detweiler’s appearances were too in your face to ignore.
“Just an accident, honey,” he drawled, walking towards her and pulling her into a soul sickening kiss that made me want to puke considering Marie most likely had no idea where else that mouth had been.
They walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving me a shaking, miserable mess as I cleaned up the eggs and tried to make dinner.
If that interaction hadn’t sealed the deal that waiting for my birthday to leave wasn’t an option…the next night would.
I was in bed, tossing and turning as I did every night. When your mind was as haunted as mine was, sleep was elusive, a fervent goal I would never successfully master. I’d never had a night where I could relax, where the memories of the past didn’t creep in and plague my thoughts.
It was 3 am, and I was on the verge of giving up if I couldn’t fall back asleep soon.
Light footsteps sounded down the hallway by my door. I frowned, as everyone had gone to bed long ago. I knew their habits like they were my own at this point.
Was someone in the house? Someone who didn’t belong?
The footsteps stopped outside my door, and shivers crept up my spine.
“Hello?” I whisper squeaked, feeling like a fool for speaking at all when the doorknob tried to turn, getting caught on the lock I was lucky enough to have.
I felt like the would-be victim in a horror movie as I slid out of bed and yanked my lamp from the nightstand, prepared to use it as a weapon if need be.
The person outside fiddled with the lock and it clicked, signaling it had been disengaged.
There was a long pause as I stared breathlessly at the door, waiting for the inevitable.
The door creaked open and a hairy hand—that I recognized—appeared.
It was Mr. Detweiler’s.
I didn’t think, I just started screaming, knowing I had one chance to get him away from my room.
I needed to wake up his wife. With their bedroom right down the hall, I just needed to be loud enough.
Sure enough, a second after I started screaming, the door banged shut, and footsteps dashed away. A moment later, I heard the Detweilers’ bedroom door fly open, and then a moment after that, my door cracked against the wall and Marie’s harried form was there. Her chest was heaving, pushing against the two sizes too small negligee she was wearing–that made me want to burn my eyes–and her gaze was crazed as they dashed around the room, finally falling to me standing there in the middle of it, a lamp clutched to my chest.
A red mottled rash spread across her chest and up to her cheeks as anger flooded her features.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Someone was trying to get into my room. Someone unlocked the door.”
I didn’t say it was her husband, because that would give me even more problems.
A moment later, Todd was there, faking a yawn with a glass of water in his hand. “What’s going on?” he asked casually. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, he knew I knew it was him. His features were taunting, daring me to say something, like his wife would ever believe anything that came out of my mouth when it came to him.
“The girl’s saying someone was breaking into her room,” Marie scoffed before pausing for a second and examining her husband. “Why were you up?”
The way her lips were pursed, the way her flush deepened—it told me a lot. Apparently, Marie wasn’t so unaware of her husband’s true nature after all.
Not that she would ever do anything about it.
“I was getting some water when I heard Monroe scream. But I didn’t hear anyone else in the house.” His gaze feigned concern. “Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?”
