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Something I never realized is how calming cleaning can be to me. Not in the same way a bubble bath or even a glass of wine and a book are. Still, scrubbing floors and wiping down counters tonight has not only kept me busy and my mind off the fact I’m home alone, but I’m a little more relaxed than earlier today.
Now that the common areas are clean and the house smells like a combination of lemon and pine trees, I stand in the living room with my hands on my hips and no idea what to do next. I could take one of those bubble baths or even pour a glass of wine but neither sounds right. Instead, I throw myself on the couch and grab the remote control. Scrolling through the guide of live television and what’s saved on the DVR, I don’t find anything that piques my interest. Instead, I pull up Netflix and findSchitt’s Creek. This show never disappoints.
I must doze off because I’m startled awake and the sun is no longer filtering through the blinds. Instead, the room is dark and the television tells me I’m in a different season. Dang. How long was I asleep?
With a yawn, I slide my feet to the floor and reach for the floor lamp, lighting up the room. Then I hear another noise. My breath hitches as my heart beats rapidly in my chest. Standing, I slowly move through the house. As I go from the living room to the kitchen, I can tell the sound is water. Quickly I check the kitchen faucet and look out the window. The neighbor’s porch light casts enough of a shadow that I see water in the air.
Sprinklers.
It’s the stupid sprinklers. Laughing to myself, I walk to the front door where we all discard our shoes and slide into a pair of flip-flops. They aren’t mine but will work well enough while I find the shut off. Disengaging the locks, I open the door and flip the light switch. Great. A busted sprinkler and now a broken porch light.
There’s a slight chill in the air as I step outside and I rub my hands over my arms. My eyes move across the lawn to where I saw the water. A stream of water is shooting straight in the air and on the sidewalk. Someone must have broken it. Sometimes people walk a dog on the sidewalk that messes with the sprinklers or a kid on a bike will run them over. Avoiding the geyser of water I move down the front pathway and make a wide birth from the rogue sprinkler before trekking up the driveway to the detached garage. Punching in the code for the garage door, I shiver as I wait for the door to open enough that I can duck under.
With a push of a button, the sound of sprinklers stops and I enter the code again, closing the garage. Now that I’m not going to get soaked, I head over to the broken sprinkler and bend down for a quick inspection. The moon and neighbor’s porch light offer enough glow for me to see it’s not broken only tilted slightly.
My attention is solely on fixing the plastic sprinkler head. Unlike the way I’ve lived for the last several months, my guard is down and I feel useful. Once I’m satisfied with my mini repair, I stand. There’s a rustling sound coming from the side of the house near the garage.
For months I’ve looked over my shoulder daily, my senses elevated and fear constantly flowing through my veins. Although logic tells me to go back inside the house and lock the door, I don’t. Instead, my feet carry me to the side of the house. After a quick look around turns up nothing but a can on the ground next to the trash can, I turn back down the driveway. I make maybe a total of four steps when I hear something behind me. My breath hitches as I slowly turn, my body stiff. I know I’m breathing because I’m aware of every sound my body makes and slight rustle of leaves in the trees. A dog barks somewhere, the sound competing with the thumping of my heart.
It's then that I see it. A figure in the dark. Trapped in a space between fight and flight, I stand still and close my eyes slowly.This isn’t real. You’re imagining things.
Lifting my lashes, the figure is still there. In the dark. Unmoving.
Panic overwhelms me and I turn and run. Footsteps slap against the wet pavement.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Each step I take, another behind me hits the ground. I turn to cut across the grass but my foot hits the sprinkler I just fixed and I fall. A sharp pain shoots through my head as I roll to my side. On my hands and knees, I make every effort to drag my body, but my eyes are unable to focus and I slip, landing flat on the wet grass.
My eyes close and there is a ringing in my ears as the footsteps that followed me stop. There are no flashes of my life before my eyes or even regrets for moments I’ve yet to experience. It is a dark void of nothing as I wait.
But nothing comes except darkness.
Chapter 9
Sophia
I’ve had plenty of mornings when I wake to a pounding headache and the taste of bad decisions in my mouth. Remnants of a night out with friends, living life as if nothing could go wrong. This feeling is worse. Like the longest party weekend of my life compounded with the worst flu a person could face.
No memories of a good time come to mind. In fact, nothing comes to mind. Binge watchingSchitt’s Creekand dealing with a sprinkler... that’s all. Shifting my head to the side, I slip my tongue between my dry lips and fight to open my eyes. The effort is almost too much and I want to give up but the need for something to drink outweighs the exhaustion.
My eyes flutter open and it takes a couple of blinks before things begin to focus. The room is dimly lit and a quiet beep sounds behind my head. A hospital? Rolling my head to the other side, I see the shadow of an empty bed. Voices carry through the slightly open door, Morgan’s the only one I recognize.
Sleep begins to pull me under again but then the door opens and my best friend walks in and gasps. Morgan scurries back to the hallway and leans out, saying something before rushing to my bed side.
“Oh thank goodness.” Her words are laced with relief.
The next few minutes are a blur as a nurse peppers me with questions before finally offering me a sip of water. I accept the curved straw and plain room temperature water has never tasted so good. When she excuses herself, Morgan pulls a chair to the side and squeezes my hand.
“What happened, Soph?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. It’s all a little foggy.”
