Page 1 of Stuck On Them

Chapter1

Rat Terror

Paige

I’d made a horrible mistake.

A blunder so big, it paled in comparison to all others I had made in my twenty-seven years.

Which was exactly how I ended up standing face-to-face with the biggest fucking rat I’d ever seen. And no, not one of those men with the pot bellies and thick gold chains pulling at their overgrown chest hair.

It was an actual rat in the flesh, with beady eyes and a tail so gross that even the bravest of exterminators would have simultaneously screamed bloody murder and pissed themselves. My bladder might have been as leakproof as a boat with Flex Seal, but boy did I scream.

I screamed so loud that the cat-sized varmint leapt right at me from its perch on top of my dorm-room-sized refrigerator. It was a fight-or-flight situation, and I was not in the mood to get rabies, so I ran.

In two strides, I was out the door, narrowly avoiding my neighbor’s shoe rack in the process of fleeing from the clutches of the possessed Splinter.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door across the hall slammed open. A man who looked barely legal poked his head out with narrowed eyes and a tight-lipped expression. “What the actual fuck is going on out here?”

“Call the Turtles!” My foot caught on the edge of a neighbor’s doormat, and I pitched forward, yelping as my elbow connected with the hard surface of the wall. Pain radiated up my arm in waves, and for a moment, my vision blurred.

“The Turtles? What are you smoking?” The man cocked his head to the side, examining me for any sign of what hallucinogen I might be on.

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but this is me, au naturel.” I leaned against the wall, rubbing my elbow.

“Well, keep it down. I’m trying to-” His gaze fell to the hallway floor. “Ah!” He slammed his door as the rat scurried past him and right for me.

What had I done to deserve such an unfortunate turn of events in my life?

With a high-pitched squeal that belonged in an opera house, not an apartment hallway, I nearly face-planted getting into the bathroom at the end of the hall. I slammed the door, turning the lock in hopes the rat didn’t have any ninja skills.

My body shuddered, and I did the creepy creature dance, shaking out my body to rid it of any rat molecules that might have landed on me.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” I chanted as I paced the small, outdated space with a cracked sink and yellowing linoleum.

I wasn’t equipped to deal with rats or any other type of bug. In fact, I was so emotionally fragile that a cockroach was liable to send me straight into a panic attack.

Turning on the sink, I bent over it, splashing cold water on my face. It immediately calmed me down but didn’t stop the pounding of my heart.

It’s just a rat. People have them as pets all the time. One is the Turtles’ most trusted advisor.

I snorted water up my nose and coughed, shutting off the faucet. Water dripped down onto my shirt, and I lifted the hem to dry my face. I had left a towel on the towel bar the first day I moved in to dry my hands on and someone had used it and left it on the floor.

It wasn’t that I wanted to live like a college student again, but getting into a decent apartment on such short notice and for my budget was impossible. As soon as I found a job, I’d start looking for a place where four micro-apartments didn’t share a bathroom.

Straightening my spine, I flung open the door, ready to face the rat. Instead, I was met with an empty hallway and the faint smell of weed.

Cautiously, I walked back to my open door and peered inside. I’d completely lost my mind thinking a hundred-square-foot apartment was enough space.

Across from the door was a small kitchenette that had the tiniest of counters and a small sink with a microwave above it. Next to that was the minifridge, which was now missing the rat that had been chilling on top when I’d gotten back from the grocery store.

Leaving the door open, I grabbed the broom leaning in the corner and banged it on the small lift-top coffee table that also served as a desk and dining table for the small space. The likelihood the rat had come back in was small, but there were no guarantees.

I eyed the loveseat warily. “It’s gone, Paige. Stop being- ah!” My cellphone buzzed on the table, and I flung the broom at it, narrowly missing it.

My heart hadn’t seen this much action in a long time. Now I didn’t feel so nervous about losing my health insurance in a few weeks because my heart was holding up better than expected given it had already been broken into pieces.

I grabbed my phone, inhaling sharply at the countless unanswered message notifications that were displayed on the bottom of the screen. That’s exactly how they were going to stay until I was ready to deal with the fallout from my decisions.

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