by T. A. Kunz
“I’m staying on the phone with you.”
His voice is still unsteady. I won’t lie, he’s making me more than just a little nervous. After everything that’s happened recently, what if this isn’t just a random power outage? Flashes of chase scenes from countless scary movies fill my mind.
“I’m putting you on speaker so I can use my phone’s flashlight, okay?”
“Good idea.”
“Here I go. Off to the basement,” I say, but fail to move.
Dammit, I’m officially that girl.
The phone’s cone of light shines on the closed bedroom door. A few coats clutter the hooks installed on the back of it, looking like a person standing there. I draw in a lengthy breath and, after a sharp exhale, move toward it. My hand hesitates on the door handle before twisting it open. The door creaks as if protesting being woken up from a nap.
Never noticed that sound before.
I immediately point the light down the hall. Everything seems normal. Nothing’s out of place.
Donovan’s soft breaths through the phone have me on edge. My heart thumps harder within my chest. With every step I take toward the stairs, my heart seems to pick up the pace. Donovan’s breathing stops coming through.
“Hey, you still there?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he responds immediately. The sudden loud response startles me as it echoes loudly through the hallway. “You okay?”
“Yep, just scaring the hell out of myself, that’s all,” I reply with a hollow laugh.
I’m trying to keep my cool, but knowing that Donovan was attacked tonight on his way home, I can’t help but think this whole thing may not just be the breaker. Again with the horror movies. I regret ever watching a single one right now.
I reach the stairs and begin my descent to the first floor. I keep to the carpet runner going down the middle of the steps since I’m sure the bare wood is freezing cold. The stairs squeak under the pressure of each footstep.
“What was that?” Donovan asks, again making me jump.
I hit the volume button on the side of the phone to lower it to a less jarring level. “Donnie, I really appreciate you doing this, but I think I’m going to need you to be a silent observer here,” I say breathlessly.
“Got it, sorry.”
“Completely fine,” I say and keep moving down the stairs.
Just as I thought, the wooden floor is freaking freezing. A shiver shoots up my leg when my bare foot touches it. I retract instantly and then step down fully like I’m testing the water in a swimming pool before jumping in. The silence of the house grows uncomfortable. All-encompassing. It amplifies every groan of the floorboards under my feet. With every creak, I jump like I’ve seen a pop-out scare from an actor in a haunted house attraction.
If someone’s in here, they’ve got to know where I am.
My phone’s light casts on the umbrella stand near the front door, revealing a potentially good weapon choice. My mom’s ornamental wooden cane. It’s affixed with metal pins of the flags from all the places she’s traveled to, making it even more ideal to bash someone over the head with if the need arises. I retrieve it and keep moving toward the kitchen.
“Okay, I’ve made it to the door leading to the basement.”
The door usually looks like a normal door, but for some reason it appears menacing in the dark with my phone’s light pointed at it. The feeling of eyes on me sets in. I dart the phone around the kitchen and then down the hall toward the front door, but see nothing out of the ordinary.
“Have you gone in the basement yet?” he asks.
“Doing that now,” I say, grabbing the door’s handle.
The doorknob’s mechanism clicks as it disengages. It rings out within the space, sounding loud in the quiet. The door slowly creaks open, but unlike my bedroom door, this one groans like it’s in desperate need of some WD-40. It sounds ancient, like a door that’s been sealed for hundreds of years.
“Okay, that’s damn creepy sounding,” he says.
“Donnie? What did I say?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry.”
Staring into the basement is how I imagine looking into a black hole would be. It’s considerably darker than the rest of the house. As I shine the light down the stairs, it seems to be swallowed up, barely reaching the third step in front of me. But there are way more stairs than that between me and the breaker box.
This sucks so much ass right now.
My hand has a death-grip on the cane as I move down the old and noisy steps. The sound rings out like a symphony of moans.
The moment the rest of the basement comes into view, I bend down and move the light in sweeping motions across the space to make sure nothing is waiting in the shadows. My eyes seem to have adjusted more to the darkness. Thankfully, the basement looks like it always does except for the complete lack of light and the much creepier atmosphere because of that fact.
A sudden chill works its way through my chest. My arm wraps across my chest to cuddle up and ward it off. But I maintain my strangle-hold on the cane, ready to strike at any moment.
My phone’s light shows the circuit breaker on the wall in front of me as I near the bottom of the stairs. I bound quickly down the last few steps and throw open the front panel, revealing the switches behind it. I start by turning each individual branch breaker switch to the off position. The snapping sound each one makes as I flip them off causes me to flinch a little. Then I flip the main breaker switch off and then back on. The power doesn’t come back on. I whine in frustration since I don’t know what I did wrong.
“Did it work?”
I appreciate that he spoke softly so as not to frighten me. “Working on it.”
A noise has me panning the phone behind me, cutting through the darkness of the basement. Nothing’s there. I return my focus back to the panel. Through my unnerved state, I realize I never switched the branch breakers back on, and immediately start flipping them to the on position. Light from the kitchen spills in through the open door at the top of the basement stairs, illuminating the top landing and first couple of steps. I breathe a huge sigh of relief while closing the breaker box panel.
“I take it you got the power back on?” he asks.
“Yep, just did. Thanks for staying on the phone with me during that whole ordeal,” I say as I shut the basement door behind me.
“No worries. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“True. Hey, are you going to be okay?” I ask when I still hear concern reflected in his voice.
He sighs. “I don’t know. My nerves are still pretty shot. It just didn’t feel like some kind of stunt, you know?”
“Are you still planning to go to the dance tomorrow?”
“I don’t even know if I’m leaving my house tomorrow,” he jokes, but it sounds strained. I can tell he’s trying to find humor in the situation, but he’s still on edge. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure where I stand with the one person who asked me to go, so if I do go it will probably be alone at this point,” I reply with a heavy sigh.
“Harrison, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s all just so confusing.”
“What if we go together as friends?”
“What about going with Connor?”
“Like your situation, mine’s also complicated,” he says.
“You know what? Let’s do it. Plus, if something does happen tomorrow night, at least we’ll be together when it does,” I say, hoping against hope that nothing actually does happen.
“Sounds like a plan.” His tone is slightly more upbeat than before.
“Try to get some sleep, Donnie.”
“You too, Drea. Good night.”
“Yeah, good night.”
After returning the cane to the umbrella stand, I round the bannister and begin up the stairs to my room. The power cuts again, and I’m left standing in near-pitch blackness. I stub my toe on one of the steps.
“Dammit.”
In my attempt
to rub the affected big toe, I stumble and crash knee and elbow first into the steps. The front door handle jostles violently, snapping me right out of my pain. My eyes sift through the darkness to hone in on the front door.
If it was my parents, they would have their keys to get back in.
I swallow back my question of “who’s there” and decide to stay quiet. My instinct is to call Donovan back, but then the handle’s movement ceases. I pick myself up from the sitting position on the stairs and slowly make my way forward to inspect the front door. I peer through the peephole but see nothing there. I suddenly feel significantly less safe inside my own house. Wasting no time, I again collect the cane from the stand and inch away from the door toward the hall leading to the kitchen. Something passes by the partitioned glass window on the door leading out to the backyard.
I can’t pull out my phone fast enough. I pre-dial 911 and am ready to hit the call button. My phone’s flashlight illuminates the back door. A shape darts in front of the door’s window again. The handle begins to turn back and forth. The door swings open.
I scream at the top of my lungs with the cane in striking position. My phone’s light catches the person’s face. It’s my dad. He rears back, startled.
“Dad, what are you doing? You scared the absolute crap out of me,” I gasp.
He places his hand over his chest and lets out a sizable exhale. “Sorry, forgot both my keys and phone,” he explains, short of breath. “I figured you’d be up in your room with your headphones on, so I didn’t try to call out to let me in. I’m just glad I remembered that spare key to the back door. Though it wasn’t in the flowerpot. It was under the door mat before.” He chuckles to himself. “I probably put it there by mistake one day. What are you doing with your mom’s cane?”
I glance at the cane, which I’m still holding aloft. “I thought someone was trying to break in and grabbed the first thing I thought would do the most damage,” I say as I finally lower it.
“Understood, but you should probably put it back. If your mom knew you were trying to use it as a weapon, she’d flip.”
“Well, I’d hope she’d understand the desperate need in this dire situation.” A piece of paper in his hand catches my attention. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing my light at it.
“Oh, this was on the front door. It looks like something from your school.”
He hands it to me. My eyes grow wide when I scan the flyer for the MasqueRave Ball with the assistance of my phone’s light.
Donovan said he got one of these too. What’s going on?
My dad’s groan draws my attention away from the flyer. “I see the circuit breaker is at it again.”
“This is the second time since you’ve been gone tonight,” I say while folding up the flyer and stuffing it into the pocket of my pajama bottoms.
He asks to borrow my phone to look for his on the kitchen counter. Once he finds it, he returns mine before proceeding into the basement to turn the lights back on. Moments later, we’re bathed in light again.
He re-enters the kitchen. “I’m heading back over. We’re right in the middle of a game of cards. You going to be okay here for another hour or so by yourself?”
“Actually, do you think I could tag along?”
He looks pleasantly surprised. “I don’t see why not. It will be kind of boring over there for you though.”
“No worries. I think I’ve met my fun quota tonight anyway. I’ll just do homework or something,” I say.
There’s no way in hell I’m staying here alone any longer tonight.
Donovan
My room fills with blue light. I shift my eyes from staring at the ceiling to rest on the nightstand beside the bed. My phone’s screen is lit up bright in the dark space. I reach over and retrieve it, hoping there’s not more bad news waiting for me. It’s a text from Connor.
Hey, you awake?
Did he just send me the equivalent of a “you up” text implying he wants a late night hook-up? I type back yes, and then see the little dots at the bottom of the screen move in a wave motion. His next message comes through.
I’m outside. I need to talk to you.
My heart doesn’t know how to react to this. What does he want to talk to me about? My mind races with all the possibilities, hoping that something else hasn’t happened. I hurry over to the window overlooking the front yard and see his truck parked on the road, but I don’t see him anywhere.
I don’t see you? Are you in your truck?
My eyes never leave the vehicle as I wait for any kind of signal that he’s there. The front cab is dark and the headlights are off. It sits there quiet, just outside of the streetlight’s reach. No trace of subtle rumblings from the engine. Then I glance down at my phone and see those dots dancing again. His text comes through.
Yeah. I didn’t want to wait outside just in case your aunts or neighbors see me.
After sending my reply of, okay, be right down, I slip on my shoes, grab a shirt, and throw it on before sneaking out of the room. The whole house is silent, much like it usually is at one in the morning. My aunts are asleep, but I know they’re light sleepers, so I need to be cautious. I make quick work of the stairs and then retrieve my coat from the hook by the door and slip out without alerting anyone. I close the door as quietly as possible before turning to face Connor’s truck.
The wind picks up and flows through my coat before I have a chance to zip it up. Slashes of piercing cold batter my chest and whirl around my torso. I clench my arms around myself, securing the coat closed. The wind fights me the entire time. My teeth rattle as my pajama pants flap about.
As I close in on the truck, my eyes scrutinize the front cab. Movement inside the vehicle accompanies the passenger side door popping open. It swings to the side, revealing a glimpse of Connor’s face before he settles back into the driver’s seat.
There’s a part of me that’s glad to see him, but the look on his face makes me wonder even more about why he needs to talk to me. Hesitation takes hold of my legs, and I find it hard to keep moving forward. The next gust of frigid wind helps me push through it and climb into the passenger’s seat. When I close the door, the sound of the wind outside reduces to a low drone. I sit there with more anticipation than I can handle, worrying about those first words that will come out of his mouth.
His silence is killing me.
“After what you told me earlier about the attack, I had to come see you,” he says, but doesn’t look over at me. His tone is reflective and somber. “I know we talked, but that wasn’t enough,” he continues before finally looking me straight in the eyes. He looks tired, fatigued.
“I appreciate it. Really, I do,” I reply softly, overwhelmed with feelings. “I’m glad you’re here, if that helps.”
“It does,” he says with a slight smile. “A little truth talk.” He shifts in his seat to face me head on. “I didn’t really have anything specific that I needed to talk to you about.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I just really needed to see you. Between what happened to Lori, not knowing where Shaun is, and what happened to you tonight, things have been so chaotic. I wanted to be around the one thing that’s made me feel somewhat normal. Grounded. And that’s you, Donovan.”
“I’d hardly call me normal or grounded,” I say, resorting to humor since I don’t know what to do with all of this. New territory.
“All I know is that I feel at my most comfortable when you’re around,” he replies.
His green eyes shimmer even in the dark of the trunk’s cab. I want to say so much, but I can’t seem to find the words to express how I’m feeling. I’m speechless. I put my hand out and rest it palm up on the center console, waiting for him to make a move. I’m so nervous I can actually see my heartbeat pulsing in the vein in my wrist.
He notices my hand and flashes a slim smile before placing his on top of mine. Intense heat engulfs my palm and spirals up through my arm, followed by a tingling sensation when his fingers wea
ve with mine.
“Mind if I stick around for a bit?” he asks. “I’m not really into the whole idea of being alone right now.”
“I’d like that. It’s not like I was going to get any sleep tonight anyway.”
“I hear that,” he says as his slim smile turns into a full-blown one.
He relaxes back in his seat and leans his head against the headrest. I scooch closer to him and lay my head on his shoulder. He gives my hand a light squeeze, and I can’t hold back the smile forming on my face. He adjusts in his seat to lean his head against mine, and we just sit there, content for the moment. Pure, unadulterated comfort.
The more time we spend like this, the harder I think I’m falling for him. He just makes me feel a way I’ve never felt for anyone before. He’s raw, genuine, caring, and quite a few other positive descriptors all wrapped up into one.
I never want this feeling to go away.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I stir from the sound of knocking. I snap awake and my eyes focus on Connor fast asleep. My mind is in a haze as I try to gain my bearings. It’s still dark out.
How long have I been asleep?
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
My groggy eyes pan over to the passenger side window. The vision of my aunt’s face startles me wide awake. Her eyes narrow and the expression on her face is most certainly not a pleased one. My sudden reaction has Connor stirring next to me.
“Explanation, now,” Aunt Helen demands.
I deduce by the fact she’s still in her pajamas and has a coffee cup in her hand that it must be morning.
Oh crap!
“Out of the truck, please,” she insists.
I open the door and she pulls it the rest of the way.
“Good morning, Aunt Helen,” I say.
She just sends me one serious, disapproving parental stare. “Uh-huh,” she says. “There I was, enjoying my morning cup of coffee on the porch, and then I look out to find a truck parked in front of our house—one that I’ve never seen before, mind you. Then lo and behold, when I investigate, I find you snuggled up with a boy I’ve only ever met once.” Her stare shifts to Connor and then back at me. “And all of this after what happened to you last night.”
