Page 17 of Scar

[WiseWave620: Did you know I still look for you on the security cameras? Every time I see a shadow move, I hope it’s you, but it never is.]

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Scar staredat the perplexing creature in front of him. How was it that she was blind and yet was the first person to ever see him?

He was standing across the living room from her front door. He estimated the apartment to be around eight hundred and thirty square feet. The door opened to a bottleneck entry with parallel closet doors. One housed a coat closet, the other the apartment’s hot water heater. The open floor living room and kitchen design was entirely hardwood with the island as a barrier between the two areas. The L-shaped cabinets and kitchen appliances provided lots of counter space. The living room with the ugly couch also had a lounge chair by the frosted window. Based on the location of the window compared to the cardinal direction of the apartment building, Scar could picture her sitting in that chair, being warmed by the morning sunlight.

She was across the room from him, had been inside her place for less than a minute, and somehow she’d known he was there.

Scar couldn’t remember the last time he’d been baffled by another person. People were routine. They did not surprise him.

“Emergency services are on the way. Notifying emergency contacts now.”

Tally moved towards her kitchen. She wasn’t using her cane as she had on the sidewalk, nor was she clicking her tongue. Scar wondered if either were necessary in her home or if she didn’t want to be distracted.

“Are you so cocky that you think you can kill me and escape before the police get here?”

Scar raised an eyebrow. Kill her?

Something occurred to him then. Tally hadn’t been fazed outside. When those thugs had jumped her, she’d fought them off with impressive skill. But she hadn’t beensurprised. There’d been no shock or ‘holy shit’ moment.

How often did people attack her on her way home from work?

Scar scowled at the thought. Why would Alpha allow his daughter to work and live in such a hostile environment?

“Message from Simone,” the feminine voice from her watch stated,“‘Tom and I are on our way!’”

Tally was now standing in her kitchen, the breakfast island separating them. He watched as she switched her cane over to her left hand. Her right reached for the knife block on the island. He’d noticed when looking around her kitchen earlier that the handles didn’t have braille labels on them like her other equipment. Instead, they had different handle grips. One might think it was a mismatched set, but it was likely on purpose for her. She needed the quick tactile touch to know which knife was which.

His admiration for her grew when she picked up a steel chef’s blade. Her reverse grip, though, was not that of a cook’s, but of an experienced knife fighter. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do?

Besides the obvious, that is. Because she was most certainly blind. He’d only doubted that for a moment before he’d put all the pieces together. Just as on the interview video he’d watched, she was not wearing sunglasses. But her eyes were no longer green. They were brown. The prostheticswereextremely realistic, but there was no focus to them, no dilatation. She never looked directly at something.

No, Tally Meacham was very much blind. She just did not let it slow her down and that, in and of itself, showed her incredible strength.

“Message from Mark,” her watch told her and Scar saw Tally stiffen,“‘What’s going on? I just got a message that you contacted emergency services.’”

Tally scrunched up her nose. “Shit. I really got to take him off my emergency contacts.”

Scar’s eyes narrowed. Who was Mark? Why had he been on her emergency contacts in the first place, and why did she no longer want him there?

If he’d hurt her, if he’d so much as said a single cruel word to her, Scar would flay him alive and feed his still-breathing corpse through a woodchipper feet first.

“Message from Mark: ‘On my way.’”

Tally rolled her neck as if trying to release some tension. “Fuck.” Then she pointed the blade of her knife in front of her. It was nowhere near where Scar was standing. She clicked her tongue. Then the tip of her blade shifted until it was pointed directly at him. “See what you made me do? Goddamn it.”

Her frustration was obvious in an exaggerated way, but not like someone who was overacting or vying for attention. It was like she didn’t know how to hide, as most people did. Tally didn’t put a metaphorical mask on because she didn’t know how to have one. The openness with which she expressed herself was pure and honest. In a way, it reminded Scar of Scotty.

A knock sounded on her door. “Police! Open up!”

Scar watched as Tally headed for the door.

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[WiseWave620: How pissed do you think Bulldog will be if he ever learns I hacked into his phone and use it to listen in on their conversations?]

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