Page 17 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
“Then it’s also none of my business that Pussy ran into the house about two minutes ago.” She narrows her eyes and sneers at me again. “It’s your loss, Desi.”
“What is?”
“That you don’t trust me to show you just how good I am with something wet and groomed.” And with that parting comment, I flash her a lightning-quick grin before heading to my side of the fence, while she grumbles and curses me out under her breath.
I hear her door slam.
I hear her call for Pussy again.
And all I can think about is how damn unexpected she is—and at the same time such a very welcome distraction.
I think I’m going to like my time in Sunnyville.
Chapter Six
Desi
The room is dark when I wake up.
My heart is racing and the whoosh of my pulse pounds in my ears.
I jump at the shadows in the room. At the sound of one of the dogs I’m watching scratch at something in his crate in the other room. At the sheets pulling off me when I move my feet.
Because all I can see is the sinister shadow over me when I woke up three weeks ago.
All I can feel is that unending panic of being alone and vulnerable.
All I can remember is that all-consuming fear that robbed me of my thoughts and paralyzed me from action as I sat there fully aware of everything around me—his scent, the harsh rasp of his breath, the complete control he had over me without saying a single word.
I know he’s not here now.
Physically anyway.
But that’s almost worse...isn’t it?
Not hearing from him, not knowing where he is, who he is, is even scarier.
I stare at the ceiling for the longest time and try to make sense of the shadows, but just like every other night this week, sleep won’t come. I know it’s hopeless.
The dogs whine when my feet creak over the raised wooden floors of my house. I open their kennels and get lost in their kisses and attention as I try to figure out what activity I’ll do tonight to occupy the hours when I should be sleeping.
I’ve already cleaned and scrubbed and reorganized every corner of my house and fear I’ve run out of things to do. It’s the wee hours of the morning when you realize you’re the loneliest—kind of like I feel right now.
“Do you guys have to go potty?” Tails wag and butts wiggle on the three dogs in response. “Okay. Let’s go.”
And then my steps falter a few feet before the back door as my mind runs through who could be out there. Whether he’s waiting for me.
“Get a grip, Des,” I mutter to myself. “Whoever it was got what he wanted and left.” I stare at the doorknob and then at the shadows outside to see if any of them move. “Either that or you weren’t hot enough for him to want.”
I say the words but shudder.
Humor.
It’s how I cope.
It’s how I tell myself that it was nothing more than a man trying to break into my house, and when I woke up in the middle of his attempt it scared him off.
It’s how I open the door to let the three dogs out, eager to relieve themselves.
