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1119 Words
“Norman Grey.”
I went still. My heart pounded in my chest.
Norman didn’t react right away. His expression was unreadable but I noticed the way his fingers clenched slightly, the way his breathing slowed.
The voice spoke again. “We know you’re in there.” A pause. Then more calmly, “You can’t hide forever.”
Norman let out a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Fantastic.”
I turned to him sharply, keeping my voice low. “You said no one was coming.”
He looked at the door. “I was hoping I was right.”
A dull thud sounded from outside, like something knocking against the wooden porch. Not an attempt to break in. It sounded more like a warning.
“This isn’t the end of it,” the voice continued, sounding almost casual.
Another pause. Then footsteps, slow and deliberate, moving away from the door.
I held my breath, waiting, listening.
A few seconds later, a car engine rumbled to life. Headlights cut through my thin parlor curtains for a moment before fading as the vehicle pulled away.
I finally let out my breath, my shoulders sagging.
Norman leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes briefly. “That went well.”
I shot him a glare. “Well?”
He looked at me. “They didn’t break in, did they?”
I ignored the smugness in his tone and crossed my arms. “Who are they?”
Norman let out a slow breath. “People I’d rather not deal with.”
I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
He looked at me again, watching me with those sharp, assessing eyes. “It’s the only answer you’re getting.”
I scoffed, throwing up my hands. “Unbelievable.”
He smiled. “You’ll survive.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Since my house is apparently part of whatever mess you’re in now.”
Norman chuckled. A low, amused sound. “You’re dramatic.”
“Says the man bleeding out on my couch.”
He shifted slightly, wincing. “Fair enough.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of the situation pressed in on me. Some men had just come to my house looking for Norman Grey, throwing around vague threats like they were promising to come back for round two. And Norman? He acted like this was just another Tuesday.
I folded my arms. “So, you are Norman Grey.”
He looked at me. “You already knew that.”
I hesitated, then shrugged. “You gave me a fake name back then.”
Norman raised a brow, and I saw the gears turning in his head. He didn’t remember me. Not really. He was trying to.
But then, instead of pressing, he asked, “And you are…?”
I blinked. “What?”
He gestured lazily. “Your name. Unless you plan to keep calling yourself ‘the woman who found me half-dead on her porch.'"
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was mocking me.
But fine. He wanted to ask now? After all this time?
I lifted my chin slightly. “It’s—”
A loud crash from outside made me jump.
Norman’s eyes snapped to the window. I turned toward it too but the curtain blocked my view.
My pulse pounded. “I thought they left.”
Norman was already sitting up straighter. “So did I.”
Then—another noise. This time, it was closer.
Like someone was still out there.
I hesitated, then grabbed the closest thing I could find—a heavy flashlight from the counter. My fingers tightened around it as I slowly approached the window.
Norman’s voice was low. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Checking,” I whispered.
“That’s a stupid idea.”
I ignored him. Carefully, I pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek through. My eyes darted around the dark yard, searching for movement.
Another thud. Near the porch.
I swallowed. The men wouldn’t have come back so soon, would they?
Forcing my nerves to calm down, I took a deep breath and unlocked the door.
Norman hissed, “Are you insane?”
I ignored that too and opened the door just a crack. The night air was cool against my skin as I peered outside. My porch light barely reached the driveway, but in the dim glow something moved.
I gripped the flashlight tighter.
Then—two glowing eyes stared up at me.
I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my chest. “Oh, for—”
It was a cat.
A damn cat. Probably my neighbor’s, judging by the collar around its neck.
It knocked over the small flowerpot on my porch, now lying broken on the wooden boards. The cat blinked at me, completely unbothered, then lazily stretched before trotting away into the night.
I muttered a curse under my breath and shut the door.
Norman was watching me, one brow raised. “Feel better now, detective?”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a cat.”
He snorted. “Figures.”
I sat down, still holding the flashlight. My heartbeat was finally slowing.
Norman’s gaze lingered on me. “So. Your name?”
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “It’s Brianna” I hesitated for half a second before saying it.
His expression didn’t change. No spark of recognition. No flicker of memory.
Nothing.
I let out a quiet breath. “That’s my name.”
Norman leaned back against the couch, adjusting his position with a small wince. “Alright.”
And just like that, we moved on. No reaction. No acknowledgment.
Was he acting like he didn’t remember or did he actually not remember?
I exhaled. “You should get some rest. You look like crap.”
He closed his eyes. “And yet, I’m still the best-looking guy in the room.”
I scoffed. “Wow. Humble, too.”
We were both silent. The night stretched on, the only sounds coming from the distant rustling of trees and the occasional creak of the house.
Norman’s breathing evened out eventually though I wasn’t sure if he was actually asleep or just resting.
I leaned back in my chair staring at the ceiling.
Everything about tonight felt surreal.
I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But I knew I didn’t want Norman in my house any longer. I would dress his wounds in the morning and send him on his way.
But for now, the house was quiet.
And for the first time since Norman Grey showed up at my door, there was peace.
- Writer
