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Sighing, she stood up and headed for the kitchen. She’d make a bowl of popcorn. The pantry door creaked as she opened it. Her eyes glossed over as she stared, thinking something didn’t look right, as usual when she stared too long. She swore she put the crackers next to the popcorn, yet the box she needed sat next to the pasta. Strange.
Pushing all weird thoughts out, she grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn and shoved it into the device, hitting five minutes. She had to use the bathroom, so she rushed to the toilet, peeing as fast as she could with the door open, listening to the popcorn pop. She never actually let it pop for the full five minutes, but doing anything less never popped it correctly.
Her hands twisted under the water as she washed thoroughly, then dashed back into the kitchen right as the popcorn slowed down in its fury.
The wonderful aroma filled the kitchen even more when she opened the door, then the bag. She inhaled deeply as she poured it into a bowl. Yes, this would be a wonderful night in. Sure, she hated crowds, but fireworks weren’t the best either. The loud bangs also sent her anxiety up. The pop, pop, pop one after another reminded her of things best forgotten.
Like most memories in her life. So much to forget.
She plopped back onto the couch, the bowl in her lap, realizing she needed the remote. The movie on the TV was boring. She needed something a little livelier than a slow-moving drama.
Reaching out her hand, the bowl digging into her stomach, she jerked when she heard a noise come from the kitchen. It caught her off guard so much that she lost her balance, falling off the couch. The bowl of popcorn spilled everywhere, and her head hit the edge of the coffee table.
Pain ricocheted around her forehead as she tried to sit up.
Another scrapping sound hit her senses.
She froze, waiting to hear more. But nothing.
Without making any noise besides a few crunching sounds as her hands dug into the popcorn, she raised her head to peer over the couch. She saw nothing odd. She could see the backyard, though the sun was making its descent so darkness veiled half of it.
She waited a few minutes, listening with a trained ear for any other odd sound, but nothing appeared. Her knees were killing her, holding their position for as long as she was. With an aching slowness, she stood up, putting a hand to her head that still echoed with pain. She felt no deep gash, but the ache told her she’d knocked herself good.
Her steps were quiet as she made her way to the kitchen for the broom. The tiny closet where she kept the cleaning supplies creaked as the pantry had. Before going back to the living room to clean up her mess, she flipped the outside light on and stared into the backyard. Still, nothing appeared out of place.
She made another cursory glance at everything. Her heart stilled when she eyed the small planter sitting on the edge of the concrete patio . It was lying on its side.
Someone had knocked it over. Or something, like an animal.
Yes, an animal.
She gripped the broom handle harder. But what kind of animal? The edge of the woods was a distance away, so it made it difficult to see if anything was hiding amongst the trees and bushes. She saw nothing, staring long and hard. Oh, to have a fenced-in backyard like Griffin had. Too bad she was only renting, otherwise she would’ve found the money somewhere to have a fence put up around her yard to feel more secure.
Double checking the lock on the sliding door, she found it secure. That should’ve made her feel better. It only increased the fear slithering up and down her spine.
Had he found her?
Was he outside?
There weren’t many places to hide in the yard itself, especially with the light glowing in the backyard. But all anyone needed to do was wait along the edge of the tree line, in the darkness, waiting to spring to action. Or on the side of the house.
Well, she wasn’t sticking around to find out who it was. She gripped the broom in one hand, while snatching her purse in the other, then slipped on a pair of sandals. Her fingers fumbled with her keys as she locked her front door, then she dashed to her car, shoving the broom in the front seat.
What was she doing?
Where should she go?
Flee town? But to where?
And why? It could’ve been an animal that knocked over the pot.
Her hands gripped the wheel, her heart pounding. When she saw the shadow emerge from the side of the house, she whipped the car in reverse and flew out of the driveway.
Definitely not an animal that had made the noises.
She drove with no destination in mind. Last time she had two days to plan her escape. This was spur of the moment and she had no idea where to run to, and with nothing but her purse.
When she saw all the cars lined up on the side of the road, the parking lot so full near the lake, she knew exactly where to go.
