Page 3 of Bound to a Killer
Oh.
Wait.
Let me guess. She either pawned them off or left them behind in the last place she disappeared to, which wasn’t that long ago.
Normally, I’m quick to rein it in, to snuff out the turbulent emotions before they bury me. But not this time.
I grit my teeth, breathe through my nose, and force myself to gather my bearings as I rise, my eyes flicking to the digital clock beside my bed.
My stomach sinks.
It’s exactly 7:30, and I have no idea how I’m going to get dressed and out the door in time. My science fair presentation is today. If I miss it, I’ll be throwing away half my grade this semester.
Today really isn’t the day for her to pull something like this.
I turn to leave, but my foot catches on a bunched blanket tossed at the edge of my bed. My phone flings from my hand and hits the carpet with a dull thud. I don’t bother going to look for it. I just keep moving, chin up, heading down the hall toward my mother’s room.
The door’s wedged slightly open. I shove both hands into it, not bothering to knock. I’ve already anticipated the empty bedinside, but standing in the doorway of that vacant room hits a raw nerve, mocking me for expecting anything different.
She’s really gone. I still can’t believe it.
I know because she’s never up this early. When she disappears for the night, she always spends the next morning buried under the covers, like she doesn’t have a single responsibility in the world.
My throat swells with a knot I can’t swallow. My eyes brim, and I swipe at them with the back of my hand before the tears can fall. I don’t have time for this.
I should’ve known better than to think she changed. She’s done plenty of crappy things, but I never imagined this kind of quiet violation—digging through my things while I slept and taking whatever she wanted without a thought for her daughter, who still has to get herself to school and hold down a job. Two things she’s never had to worry about.
But I won’t let her pull me down with her. I head back to my room, bypassing the dresser completely, and straight for the cramped little closet at the end of the wall.
At least she didn’t take everything here. Nothing Michigan-winter-friendly, just a few thin t-shirts. Irritation pricks beneath my skin as I thumb through the flimsy fabric, searching for something warm enough to survive the freezing car ride to school. In a rush of frustration, I yank the first sweater I see off the hanger, ivory knit with pilling along the sleeves.
Slipping it over my head, I dig through another pile of old jeans from freshman year, back when my curves hadn’t started filling out. I hold a pair to my hips and scoff, knowing they’ll never fit. They hit the floor, replaced by a black skater skirt with a much more forgiving waistband. Not exactly warm, but it fits, so it goes on without further debate.
I pull a black jacket overtop and breeze through everything else, opting to comb my hair with my fingers instead of wasting more time looking for a brush.
Halfway out the door, I’m already forgetting the most important thing. I double back for my bag and poster, roll it up tight, and hurry down the stairs, only to abruptly halt at the narrow path leading into the garage. My gaze snaps to the key hook on the wall.
It’s empty.
Dread winds through my stomach, slow and steady, tightening with the certainty of what I already know is missing on the other side.
There’s no way she’d screw me over this bad. She doesn’t even drive.
Please don’t let me be right this time.
A tremor gathers in my hand as I wrap it around the doorknob and yank it open. Cold air brushes my ankles, and for a heartbeat, I almost see its familiar silhouette waiting there before the garage yawns back at me, hollow and still.
No car.
A stunned, breathless laugh scrapes my lips. Unbelievable. The universe really has it out for me. How else could it pack this much bad luck in one morning?
Why does it feel like the weight of the world is pressing down on me? Nobody else is getting hit like this. Not my mom. Not my dad, after he ditched us for a new family. Just me.
I’m a good kid. I don’t stir trouble. Mostly quiet, patient, doing my best to be compliant. Yet somehow, I’m the one being singled out for no reason at all.
More importantly, how the hell am I supposed to get to school like this?
I guess I can walk. Technically it’s close enough. But I’ll still be late to first period, science class, and get slapped with a tardy slip. All those hours hunched over my science fair poster in the break room at work would be for nothing, gone along with whatever slim chance I have at a full scholarship.
