Part 1 – Intruder
She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She felt the shift in the air as soon as he stepped inside. She had to think, while she had this tiny, secret moment. If she failed, she’d be proving all the naysayers right. The family members who said she had no business living alone, especially somewhere so remote. That she’d come running back to mommy soon enough.
Should she run? Somehow try and contact the authorities via her laptop without his noticing? Then she saw it, the silver letter opener, it’s shiny handle sticking out from under the stack of mail. She exhaled softly as she slowly moved her hand toward it, until her fingers were wrapped around its handle. She squared her shoulders, took another deep breath, then, with a guttural cry, jumped from the floor and swung her body toward him in one fell swoop, aiming for his neck.
Later, as the man lay bleeding on her living room floor, she went outside and sat on the porch, remembering the look of fear and surprise in his eyes, and smiled. She could see the red and blue lights through the trees.
She was born into a world of silence. She’d never known any different, so she never viewed it as a disadvantage. She cherished the friends she’d made, the community that had embraced her, the life she built herself.
She spent her days walking the grounds of her secluded estate, dreaming and jotting ideas for future novels in her journal. When the weather didn’t cooperate, she sat indoors near the window, clicking away at her laptop. That’s what she was doing when the man entered through the carelessly unlocked back door. He made as much noise as he pleased entering her home; he knew it didn’t matter.
When he reached her living room, where she sat with her back to him, he stood close enough to see the hairs on the back of her neck, the dots of lint on her well-worn sweatshirt. He would wait for her to turn around, to see him, her eyes widening with fear and surprise. Then, his game would begin.
Read Part 2 – Warrior
Zadie awoke with the sensation of tiny, prickly legs crawling all over her skin. Her throat was dry and her mouth tasted sour. Had she really gotten that drunk? The room felt suddenly cold. She sat straight up in bed, eyes wide, searching the darkness. Someone was in her room. She could smell them, hear their soft inhalations.
“What do you want!” She yelled in her meanest growl.
The person stepped forward, into the flimsy light shining through the windows from the street lamps. She could see their form, partially. It was a woman, with a face that was somewhat familiar.
“Get out of my house!”
“Don’t you remember me, Zadie?”
She stepped closer, and Zadie gasped. It was Grace. Her face was still scarred. Zadie stepped out of bed on the other side, putting it between them. She reached into her nightstand for her revolver, finding the drawer empty.
“What do you want?”
“I want what you owe me.”
Read Part 2 – Perfect