Page 7 of Done Waiting

Tossing the towel in the hamper, I turn to the mirror. After fluffing my hair, I square my shoulders.You can do this. Go out there and pretend you’re fine.

Crossing the room, I open the bathroom door and enter the hallway. The muffled sound of conversations mixing with theoccasional quiet laugh drifts up to me, making me cringe. I close my eyes, trying to find the strength to join everyone downstairs.

Opening my eyes, I take a few tentative steps toward the stairs, peering over the side of the railing. People mill around, the hum of their chatter reaching my ears. A few pointed at the pictures of him, chuckling at some of the funny poses or things my dad was doing in them.

Taking a deep breath, I back away from the stairs, the buzz from the crowd below seeming too jovial for such an occasion.

Turning around, my gaze cuts toward the door of my old bedroom, beckoning me like a lighthouse guides lost ships to the shore. I just need to be alone, lost in my memories of the most influential man in my life.

Stepping inside, I’m transported back to when I lived here. Nothing has changed since the day I left home and moved in with Ben and Chloe. The collage of pictures on the large bulletin board still hangs above my desk. The curtains and comforter on my bed are the same, and it appears Mrs. Wilson, our housekeeper and cook extraordinaire, has been by to wash and clean everything in this room. She’s cleaned and cooked for us weekly since I was a child.

Spotting the large stuffed dog my dad won for me at the county fair, I grab him from the bookshelf and head toward the bed. Kicking my heels off, I curl up on the bed, clenching my stuffed animal to my chest.

I feel so fuckingalone.

Staring morosely at the wall, my mind is a television show of clips of my dad and me. Grief wells up like a tsunami, but I have no tears left to cry.

Exhaustion settles over me, my eyes growing heavy, the events of the past week catching up to me. Closing my eyes, I succumb to it, letting it pull me under.

3

MADISON

Bright light causes me to squint, and I raise a hand, shielding my eyes. Slowly sitting up, I look around, taking in my childhood bedroom.

Glancing down at my clothing, I still wear what I had on yesterday.

Birds chirp outside, calling to me. Stretching my arms overhead, I yawn, moving my neck from side to side, trying to work out the kinks. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I get up and head to the window.

Not much has changed as I gaze around the yard, nostalgia wrapping around me. Taking a deep breath, I feel relaxed for the first time in over a week.

A slow smile stretches across my lips, feeling foreign. I relish in the moment, peace stealing over me. I know it’ll be short-lived, as the darkness is already clawing and beckoning, ready to pull me under.

But for a few moments, I delight in the feel of the light pouring through the window, warming my skin through the glass. Closing my eyes, I tilt my face, reveling in the feel of it.

After several beats, I lower my face to the window, opening my eyes.

Disbelief rolls over me, and I freeze, my muscles tightening. A figure dressed all in black, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his hood pulled up so it obscures his face, stands in the yard beside the large maple tree.

Although I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s watching me.

Fear crawls up my spine, my feet rooted to my bedroom floor, my eyes blinking rapidly. There’s a sinister aura about him… along with something else.

Something that unnerves the hell out of me.

My breathing increases, and my heartbeat races.

The way he stands there, completely motionless, distresses me. The heat of his stare bores into me. Despite not being able to see his face, it’s as though he’s looking straight into my soul, stripping me bare.

I hate it.

At the same time, I never want him to stop.

I like the way he’s obsessively staring at me. As though I’m the only thing he sees.

What. The. Actual. Fuck is wrong with me? I have a boyfriend, yet I’m titillated by some strange guy staring at me.

He tilts his head slightly so I can see the beautifully menacing smile on his face.How the fuck can a smile be so beautiful, yet cause sheer panic?

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