Page 94 of Devious Roses

Most of our neighbors are older than Pop. They go to sleep with the sun and rise with it too. It’s not uncommon for the only sound at night to be the distant wind.

My eyes close and I focus on the pleasure. On my fingers rubbing circles on my clit in just the way I like.

I’m sooo close. Right on the edge of my orgasm.

It’s coming, it’s a couple more rubs away—

A creak of a floorboard sounds loud in the otherwise dead silence. My bedroom window is on the side of the house, but close enough to hear the sounds on the front steps. I’d know that creak anywhere. Just another thing about the house that needs repair.

My hand freezes down my panties and my eyes pop open. I lay still and listen for more. Listen if I’m hearing things or if I just heard what I think I heard.

Seconds go by, and nothing.

I’m about to return to my secret activity when it happens again. Only this time it’s not the creak of a floorboard. It’s the jiggle of what sounds like our brass doorknob. I spring up in bed, my heart booming in my chest.

Is what I think happening really happening? Is someone trying to break into our house?

I leap out of bed and quickly slink into the hall. On my way, I grab the baseball bat from the coat closet.

I make it halfway across the living room before the doorknob jiggles again and the front door falls open. A scream traps itself in my throat as I rush to double back and hide. As three burly men donning masks and heavy boots stalk into the living room, I’m throwing myself back into the closet.

It’s a close call. So close, I’m covering my mouth and holding my breath. Who the hell are these guys?! What’s happening right now!?!

A barrage of panicked thoughts scramble my brain. I try to sort through them praying they’ll leave soon. They’re burglars who will case the joint, discover we’ve got nothing of value, and then leave.

But, the pit in my stomach, tells me otherwise.

The dense clack of their boots against the floorboards confirm as much. They’re moving through the house, heading down the hall.

I catch a couple muttered words. Stuff like, “You sure this the place?” and “Shh, hurry the fuck up.”

I’m shaking in the closet. I’m racking my brain on what I should do. We have no firearms. My only weapon is a bat. My phone is in my room.

Pop’s asleep in his.

Pop!

I twist the doorknob to the closet and almost step out on that panicked thought alone. He’s sleeping in his bed, probably snoring through the men intruding on our home. There’s not much he can do anyway—his sickness and disability prevent him from being very mobile.

As I hover at the closet door cracked open, my heart racing, the men aren’t hesitating. A loud thud sounds from down the hall. One of them has kicked open a door.

Pop’s door.

I dart out the closet and start across the living room without thought of what I’ll do, or how I’ll defend myself against three men.

But it’s too late. In the next second, a bang goes off.

Just one solitary shot of a gun and then…silence.

I can’t even move.

For a second that seems to go on forever, I’m stuck standing horrified and wide-eyed in the middle of the living room.

They just… shot him.

He’s gone.

Pop.

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