Page 94 of Sawyer
“I’m not leaving you,” Kevin says again, with so much determination it breaks my heart.
“We’ll be okay.We always are,” I tell him softly.
While I was scared before, now that we know these things happen once Sawyer leaves, the fear has escalated.We’re expecting it.But this is my home, and I’m not leaving it.
Walking toward the front window, I peel back the curtain an inch and look out.I can’t see any cars.I can’t see anything.It’s as black as it usually is, but I know Sawyer wouldn’t have just left me here.There’s someone watching, maybe the sheriff, maybe Tanner.I don’t know who, but I know someone is out there, and that eases my worries slightly.
I let the curtain drop and look over my home.With Sawyer gone, I decide to focus on the soaps and plan to make a big batch that will get our stocks replenished.It’s much needed, as I've ignored the soapmaking this past week, so my usual production schedule has been interrupted.I know I won’t sleep anyway, so I might as well make use of the time.
“You should go to bed, Kev.I’m staying up for a while, making some soaps.I’ll come get you if I need you,” I tell my son, and he frowns.
“Better one of us gets some sleep.You get up early, and then I can sleep for a few hours before morning?”I offer, knowing I won’t wake him, but this is how I can get him to go rest.
“Fine,” he grumbles, turning off the TV, giving me a hug, and heading to his room.He leaves his door ajar, and I hear him get into bed as I grab my ingredients and start preparing my things, sinking my thoughts into the rose oil goat milk soap that I’m about to make.
I rub my eyes.They’re sore and dry after getting lost in my soapmaking for the past hour.I have all my molds full, and I’m clearing up the last bowl when I hear a noise.I pause immediately, the sound so faint, I’m not sure if it’s the wind or something else.
As I place the bowl down softly, I hear it again.It’s coming from outside, and I look out the kitchen window, not able to see a thing, the blackness surrounding the house so thick that I feel like I’m on an island.
I creep out of the kitchen and down the hall to check on the boys.Noah’s snoring in my bed, and Kevin’s sound asleep, and I feel more settled that they are safe.
Stepping back out to the living room, I’m convinced I’m hearing things when I hear it again.Louder this time, and I still.Fear wraps its familiar fist around my throat, and I swallow roughly, trying to create moisture in my dry mouth.
But when I hear the noise again, the sound of the shed door banging in the breeze, fear gives way to anger.Anger at how someone who’s faceless is making me scared in my own home.Someone who’s trying to ruin my livelihood when I worked so hard for it.Someone who wants to see me suffer when I’ve suffered enough.
“Not anymore,” I grit out, my shoulders tight, my teeth clenched.I spot the old baseball bat near the door and grab it before unlocking all three locks.Opening the door tentatively, I look out.My eyes adjust to the darkness, my heart thumping in my ears, but if someone’s out there, this ends tonight.
I step out onto the porch and hear another thump and what sounds like people talking.Men’s voices carry to me in the wind, and I look toward the shed, the door now open, even though I know I locked it earlier.Something I checked three times over before I locked us all in the house.
Fear completely leaves me now, although my body still shakes with nerves.I lift the bat over my shoulder, ready to swing, and step quietly toward the shed.
The gravel crunches underfoot, but I’m so focused on getting to the shed door, I pay it little attention.I should have paid more, though, because I also don’t hear the footsteps that come from behind until it’s too late.
“Hey, honey, I'm home…” the familiar voice singsongs like a death rattle, skirting up my spine before I feel a sharp thud to my head, the pain instant before I fall to the ground.
I scream, dropping the bat, my hands clutching my head, feeling blood on my hands instantly.The hit was so fierce, it shakes my brain.
“Look at you, thinking you’re fucking captain courageous with your little bat,” he mocks me, and I look up slowly, my vision a little blurry, but even in the dark of night, that voice is one I’ll never forget.
Any bravado I had earlier completely dissipates as I stare up at my late husband.Memories take over, and I feel like that lost young woman I was when he was here.
“How?What?Why?”The words tumble out.I’m shocked to my core.
“Oh what, where, how, why?God, you’re still a nagging fucking bore,” he spits out as I hear footsteps nearby.My eyes flick in that direction, spotting his father Stanley, and my breath catches.
“But you’re dead!”I shout at Steve, head pounding.I’m having a nightmare.This can’t be happening.
“Clearly, he’s not,” his father huffs, looking at me like I’m worthless.
“I don’t understand!”
“I was so sick of your nagging, your fucking farm this and farm that.You had no more money for me.You stupid women can’t run farms.Look what you've done; you’ve turned it into a fucking florist!You’re an embarrassment.”He swings his arms around, a large piece of timber in one hand, one end coated in my blood.At least now I know why my head hurts so much.
“But the car caught on fire…?”I question.None of this makes sense.
“I bet you were really happy about that too, weren’t ya,” he seethes, and I don’t bother answering him, because we both know what my answer will be.“I didn't want you or the debt of this fucking farm.So we faked it.”He’s so nonchalant, I’m starting to understand he’s completely deranged.
My anger returns with a vengeance.“You’re the one who put us in debt.Your gambling, you wasting money on liquor!”I scream, smacking my hand on the ground.
