Chapter 5
764 Words
Five
Katty hiccuped as she lay trembling on the dirty rug, quickly becoming aware of her vulnerability. A sob escaped along with another hiccup as she hugged the tattered rug beneath her. She lifted her head, and her bleary eyes tried to morph her own kitchen into this one. Neither was that great—doors hung off hinges revealing free or stolen glassware. Once-white cupboards became the new dingy cream. Her past bottlenecked into today, making one crappy life.
"Phil, why ... ?" she muttered. Her old boyfriend stood before her, only his body wavered like heat waves. First he was there—then he wasn't. Horror flooded memories every time she spoke or even thought his name. The visual of him hovered just under every present day. She shuddered. A silent cry burst from down deep.
She pushed off the floor and slipped, leaving a trail of muddy sock prints. She looked down and froze.
Naked. That wasn't just a psychotic drug-induced dream. She was "in all her glory" naked. Except for muddy, striped socks.
"Where're my clothes?" Terror crashed in. "I ... I gotta get home. Bea's alone. Oh my god. What time is it?" She rushed to the living room only to be stopped short by grunts and snores. And a stench that smelled of every rotten egg, all the feedlots in Nebraska, and garbage trucks dripping week-old waste.
Sleeping bodies scattered about the room. A couple rolled in blankets on the floor, arms draped over each other. A man sat up against the wall, arms limp by his sides, roach clips and beer bottles scattered beside him.
Vacant sofa. Some party.
She tiptoed around an overstuffed chair where a man sat. He appeared dead until he snorted.
Katty covered her chest, then her privates.
She fled into the hallway, but not before an eye cracked open.
"Ohhh. Gotta go. Gotta find my clothes." Near panic, she tiptoed down the matted carpet and peeked into a bedroom. Three guys—snoring so loud the floor vibrated under her feet. Time on the digital clock was 4:48. Good. Time to sleep it off before Bea ... wait. Light cracked between the tattered shade and window. Oh no.
She slipped into an end bedroom, snagged a pair of jeans three sizes too big and shoved one foot in before falling. She tried again then zipped them. She rummaged in one corner and was rewarded with a T-shirt declaring "Peace in Us."
Good enough.
As she yanked it over her head, she spied her purse on the floor, partly obscured under a man. She bent to retrieve it.
Groans, a punch and a crack came from the living room. She paused, clutching the purse to her chest, still crouched, almost toppling backwards.
Keeping one eye on the hallway, she checked her purse. Empty. Except for dirty Kleenex. Food stamps were gone. Drug money gone.
Another muffled noise, closer. A man stumbled out of the living room. The look in his eyes made her scramble.
She pushed up too fast, choked and threw up onto the man's back.
He never moved.
Kitchen noises.
Every cell in her body screamed run!
Someone rummaged in a drawer. Something dropped onto the floor. A drawer squeaked shut.
Trembling, she peered into the hallway and gasped as a large knife pierced the air, gripped by a thick hand.
Still in her drunken dream world, she cried, "Phil. Don't. I want to have this baby."
Blindly, she stumbled back into the bedroom and frantically scanned the room. A broken window was blocked by an old air conditioner. She stood in the only other escape route.
"I'm gonna find you," a low voice growled. "I'm gonna have what you promised." That voice wasn't Phil's.
A body behind her stirred.
Katty circled to a bleary-eyed woman raised up on an elbow, pointing at her. "That's my shirt ... my... " The woman fell back onto the floor.
Katty tried the closet door as Knife Man entered the bedroom. One second it was Knife Man: eye matted shut, bruised and swollen, blood caked in his beard. The open eye gleamed with a sick evil.
The next second there was Phil. The same terrifying evil lurking in his seductive eyes. Knife in his hand.
They morphed into one. Eyes green on brown. Bruised skin on ruddy. Plaid shirt into bloody sweatshirt.
Knife Man lunged.
They tripped over a body, knife spinning in the air.
Crushed people under their weight.
The knife lodged in someone's back.
Katty scrambled leapfrog style but caught her foot and went sprawling.
Someone grabbed her foot.
She shrieked, wriggled out of the slimy sock and crawled onto the kitchen linoleum.
At the back door she pulled herself up by the doorknob and yanked the door open.
Footsteps pounded behind her.
"Gotta get to Bea."
- Writer
