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“Damn it.”
Kimberly looked up and saw Chelsea staring at the two of us. After what I’d said to Chelsea, she was not happy. Fuming would have been what I would have used as a descriptive word. That or a little cartoon character where her head was blowing off in a puff of steam.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere else?”
I asked it, though I knew that it wouldn’t help. The whole reason Kimberly wanted her distance from me was because of Chelsea. Now I could see why. Chelsea looked like pure murder, and I was actually afraid to leave her.
“Why don’t you stay with me for a couple of days, let things blow over?”
Kimberly waved me off and opened the car door. “She doesn’t scare me, Dennis. I’ll probably just have ‘slut’ carved in my car again. She isn’t very creative.”
Kimberly seemed so sure, but I wasn’t. I had never seen that look on Chelsea’s face before; I didn’t know she could even look like that. I was worried, and I wanted her to stay in the car and away from Chelsea. What had I done?
“I don’t think you should go, Kimberly. Chelsea is looking freaky right now.”
“She always looks like that for me. You’re just getting to see it for the first time. What do you think?”
“I can’t say that I’m liking it all that much.”
She laughed, but I could have sworn that there was a nervous titter in her voice. She was worried, very much so, and I don’t know why she was trying to act like she wasn’t. Chelsea had already damaged her vehicle several times. She made it clear that she wasn't worried about consequences, and I was very concerned about what that meant for Kimberly. Did that mean that she would do something worse? It was hard to fathom, but after seeing how mad she was, it wasn’t hard to imagine way worse coming out of her.
I didn't give her a kiss goodbye for obvious reasons, and I didn't even wave at her. I didn't even wave at Chelsea, because there was no point. She was trying to kill me with the gaze through the window and the chicken that I was, I got out of there as fast as I possibly could. If she really did always look at Kimberly that way, I could see why Kimberly wanted to stay away from me. I was feeling so guilty because I knew I had made it worse.
When I got back to the house, the front door was open a little bit, and I didn't think too much of it because there were a lot of people in and out of my house all the time. It could have just meant that somebody like the maid forgot to close it. I honestly wasn’t going to think too much of it because why would I worry about it? I lived in a safe neighborhood and had never been concerned with safety.
I wasn't doing much, checking my phone, and I went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. While the Greenbrier was quite fancy, and it was pretty tasty as well, it didn't do much to fill me up. Now, I was looking for something to do just that, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, but no one was there. I laughed out loud, even though it did sound a little forced. After seeing Chelsea and the way she was looking at us, maybe I was just freaking out a little bit. As she was legit that's scary and I was on edge.
Telling myself that everything was fine, I found some Parma ham and was looking for some Dijon mustard when I heard another noise behind me. It sounded closer and this time when I turned around, I saw a dark blur in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. There was somebody in the house and it was quite obvious that they didn't want me to know they were there. But they were coming closer. That didn't make any sense. If they were trying to not be caught, they would be going away from me, not toward me.
“Who is there?”
My voice didn't sound as strong and sturdy as I wanted it to. I should have been back at the dorm, but I didn't stay there very often because the beds were too uncomfortable, and they wouldn't let me bring in anything. Now, though, I was kind of wishing that I was there around people. My head was filled with bad scenarios. Why had I let a woman that wasn't even but five-foot-tall bother me so much? I should have walked into the dining room and found out who it was or if it was anything at all. That would have been the smartest thing to do, but I couldn't get the guts up to do that either. It just seemed like it was an answer that I didn't want. What was I going to do when somebody responded?
I didn't have to wait, though. Whoever had been hiding in the dining room must have decided that they didn't care if I saw him or not. When they came out of hiding and I could see him in the doorway, I could understand why. He had a mask on and for some reason that made it even freakier. I mean, if it wasn't bad enough that there was some random guy in my house with a mask, he was just standing there, his head cocked to the side, looking at me.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?!”
The guy didn't answer, he just stared forward, the expression of the mask unchanging. I didn't know what to think. It was pretty damn creepy, and the fact that he wouldn't answer me was even worse. I wanted to know what the hell the guy was doing and when I asked him again, I started getting pissed off. The fear of the unknown that somebody was in the house was gone now. It was replaced with anger and the inability to understand how somebody could have the audacity to be in my house and just look at me like that. I was a little nervous to be fair. My parents were rich, and my father had made quite a few enemies in business. It could be more than just a robbery. It could be something else, and I was torn between going toward him and trying to take him out and leaving the house before I was taken out myself. I didn't see any weapons in his hands, though, so I was still waiting for an answer to what he was doing here. Maybe it could be solved in some way that didn’t end in violence, though I wasn’t completely opposed to it if need be.
“What are you doing in my house? I am going to give you a minute to answer me before I call the police. I really don't want to do that, if I don't have to.”
The guy still didn't answer. “Do you want me to call the cops?”
He shook his head slowly, almost comically so, and said in that way that he didn't want the police called. He wouldn't say anything else and he was not giving me much of an answer. All he was really doing was creeping me out with that stupid mask and all black getup that he was wearing. Whoever this guy was, it seemed like he was here for a reason, and it was pretty obvious that the reason wasn't a good one.
I was so focused on the guy in front of me that I didn't see the one that was beside me. He must have come up from the side by the door and as the silent guy in the mask was just shaking his head, someone else was coming up on the side of me and must have hit me with something. I felt pain in the back of my head and only got a glimpse of an extra pair of legs on my way down. I tried to pull it together, snap out of it, but I couldn't. All I remember is darkness.
And shoes. Dark black leather shoes that were expensive and made locally in one of the high-end shops in town.
What a thing to think of at a time like this.
