Page 8 of West (The Moral Compass 1)
I arrive home and check that Kara has returned the key to its rightful place. That’s when I realise, I don’t have any bread or milk left.
Fuck.
I set off to the store on the corner of the street. I get that feeling that someone is watching me again, but this is a ‘not so nice’ kind of watching me. I look around, but there is no one there.
You’re going crazy, Sutton.
Kara’s little stunt last night has gotten to me more than I thought. Maybe she is right about the key. I need to bring it in when I’m at home. Although that won’t stop an intruder when I’m not home. I could walk into a burglary and get murdered. Okay, I’m now really scared. I’m getting some groceries and going home. I’ll bring my key in and bolt the doors. Kara can sleep outside if she gets locked out again.
I get my food for the rest of the week. It’s not much, but it’s all I can afford. It’ll do. I just need to keep Kara away from my bread. I laugh a little to myself thinking of this morning’s antics. Fucking crazy. I shake my head. Suddenly, I get that feeling again. The hairs on my neck are standing up, and I don’t feel safe. The sooner I get out of this place, the better.
I get to my front door and get my key out of my pocket. I bend down to pick up the spare key, just to be safe. I open my door and step inside. I’ve got the door nearly closed when a foot appears in the doorway.
“Hey, what the fuck?” I slam the door shut as hard as I can.
“Fucking hell Sutton, what are you playing at? I just want to talk.”
There’s a voice I haven’t heard in over two years. It can’t be. I lean against the door. Fuck, this seriously can’t be happening.
“Jaxon? Is that you?”
“Yeah, open the door. I want to talk. I need to say that I’m sorry.” He actually sounds apologetic, but my brain is screaming.
Don’t open the door, Sutton. It’s taken two years to get him out of your fucking head and out of your life. Don’t open the fucking door!
“Go away, Jaxon, we have nothing to say to each other. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want an apology. I don’t want anything from you, now or forever.”
I know what I’m saying is dangerous, but I can’t hold back. I don’t want him near me ever again. He needs to understand that he can’t keep doing this.
“Bitch, open the fucking door, or I’ll put it through!”
I pull out my phone and go to call the police. Yep, this shit-ass day is as bad as it gets. My fucking phone has died, and my phone charger is upstairs. I dare not move from the door. If he gets in, I’m dead. The police removed the panic alarms six months ago since Jaxon was in prison. Well, they didn’t think it prudent to tell me the fucker was out and coming straight for me.
The neighbours are used to shit like this, so they won’t even bat an eyelid. I fall to the floor with my back against the door.
I’m fucking dead.
I look up and thank fuck Kara was here last night. She left her phone charger on the table a few feet away. If I can get enough charge on it to be able to phone the police, I might be able to survive. I lean across
and plug in the phone. I keep out of sight. I’m just praying one of the neighbours does the decent thing and calls the cops. Nope. I hear one of the neighbours chatting away to him.
“Hey Jaxon, when did you get out?”
“Today,” he replies, “but this selfish bitch won’t let me in the fucking house. She’s gonna fucking regret it when I get in. The only thing is I can’t break the window or the door or I’m straight back inside. But you could, mate.”
Oh no. I can hear rustling outside. They are looking for something to smash the window with. Fuck.
I reach for the phone. It’s got 2% but it’s on. I dial the police and wait and wait, and then, eventually after what seems like forever,
they answer, “Emergency services, what service do you require?”
The living room window breaks, and I scream. I can hear the operator asking if I’m okay. I try to hide the phone so they can trace my call. I slide it under the sofa and pray.
Sharp pain pierces my skull; my hair feels like it’s being pulled out by the root. I feel the force of a foot slam against my head. Red floods my eyes, and I can taste blood in the back of my throat. My head is pulled back to look at Jaxon. I can’t hear what he’s saying. I can only feel the pain of each and every blow. And then nothing. Everything goes quiet and black.
Am I dead?
Chapter 6
