that everything was going to turn out okay in her little world, like it always had before. And why not? I’m sure she was used to guys stepping up and making everything better. That’s just the way life worked for her.
Thinking about that is when I realized why she didn’t choose to hide in the girl’s bathroom back at school.
So we reach her place and she’s all excited, and I’m getting mad because I’m just beginning to understand how I got dragged into this thing.
Hell yeah, I was getting mad. Wouldn’t you? I was about to be running across town with a dead psychopath on my tail, all because some jackass was too cheap to buy a bimbo a real birthday present. And she hadn’t gone into that bathroom to hide…she had gone in looking for a sucker to play white knight and I stepped up like a real chump. Hell, I even volunteered for the run after knowing what was going on because I didn’t have a choice anymore.
There ought to be a law against cheerleaders.
So she fishes a key out from under a little frog statue in the fro nt hedge, then looks all sneaky-like at me like she wishes I hadn’t seen her do it. Seriously, is there a burglar alive who wouldn’t have looked under the frog? Anyways, I could tell she was even thinking about leaving me out in the yard while she went inside but I guess she realized that might have been pushing her luck.
“Hey, Corvin?” She acts all awkward. “Look. I’m going to run to my bedroom and get the pen. You wait for me in the living room, okay?”
“Sure.”
Hell, I really didn’t care if she left me in the yard at that point. After seeing Tarlington again, all I wanted was to get that pen and start hoofing it for the museum.
She opened the door and we went inside. We go into the living room, which I notice is pretty nice. They obviously weren’t rich, but it sure beat the hell out of the dump I live in. They had nice couches, a carpet without a trail wore into it, and one of those big screen TVs that makes an Xbox worth having.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and heads down the hall.
I walk over to the fireplace and look at the pictures on the mantelpiece while she goes to do her business. They’re the usual stuff…family portrait, vacation shots, a picture of a wiener dog in a heart shaped frame…and there’s a couple of cool looking knick-knacks as well. I spot this little clock made out of glass so you can see all the gears turning inside, so I pick it up for a closer look.
That’s when Laura started screaming.
I had already heard her scream before that day, but this was different. This scream didn’t just sound like her being scared…it sounded like somebody who was scared, hopeless, and not wanting to believe it all at the same time. I figure that’s the way some people in a car wreck scream right before the collision and they can see the truck filling up the windshield.
B efore I even think about it I’ve dropped the clock and I’m running down the hallway and toward all the screaming. It’s coming from behind the left door at the end of the hall, and I figure that’s her bedroom. Don’t ask me why she closed the door. Maybe it’s a chick thing.
Anyways, the door was closed and she was screaming like a banshee so I didn’t even slow down but just busted in at a full run. I bash through, go stumbling in, and I’m halfway across the room and almost on top of her before I can stop. And then I’m screaming when I almost didn’t because she’s standing by this dresser, next to her closet…
And her head is gone!
I mean it, man! Her head was gone! Her body was just standing there twitching with her hands up in the air like they had gone to grab her head to keep it from coming off or something. There was blood pumping up out of her neck like a fountain and running down her neck and shoulders. Then her body sort of stumbles and turns toward me with her hands still up and shaking, and then it falls right into me. Man, I’m screaming
Thinking about that is when I realized why she didn’t choose to hide in the girl’s bathroom back at school.
So we reach her place and she’s all excited, and I’m getting mad because I’m just beginning to understand how I got dragged into this thing.
Hell yeah, I was getting mad. Wouldn’t you? I was about to be running across town with a dead psychopath on my tail, all because some jackass was too cheap to buy a bimbo a real birthday present. And she hadn’t gone into that bathroom to hide…she had gone in looking for a sucker to play white knight and I stepped up like a real chump. Hell, I even volunteered for the run after knowing what was going on because I didn’t have a choice anymore.
There ought to be a law against cheerleaders.
So she fishes a key out from under a little frog statue in the fro nt hedge, then looks all sneaky-like at me like she wishes I hadn’t seen her do it. Seriously, is there a burglar alive who wouldn’t have looked under the frog? Anyways, I could tell she was even thinking about leaving me out in the yard while she went inside but I guess she realized that might have been pushing her luck.
“Hey, Corvin?” She acts all awkward. “Look. I’m going to run to my bedroom and get the pen. You wait for me in the living room, okay?”
“Sure.”
Hell, I really didn’t care if she left me in the yard at that point. After seeing Tarlington again, all I wanted was to get that pen and start hoofing it for the museum.
She opened the door and we went inside. We go into the living room, which I notice is pretty nice. They obviously weren’t rich, but it sure beat the hell out of the dump I live in. They had nice couches, a carpet without a trail wore into it, and one of those big screen TVs that makes an Xbox worth having.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and heads down the hall.
I walk over to the fireplace and look at the pictures on the mantelpiece while she goes to do her business. They’re the usual stuff…family portrait, vacation shots, a picture of a wiener dog in a heart shaped frame…and there’s a couple of cool looking knick-knacks as well. I spot this little clock made out of glass so you can see all the gears turning inside, so I pick it up for a closer look.
That’s when Laura started screaming.
I had already heard her scream before that day, but this was different. This scream didn’t just sound like her being scared…it sounded like somebody who was scared, hopeless, and not wanting to believe it all at the same time. I figure that’s the way some people in a car wreck scream right before the collision and they can see the truck filling up the windshield.
B efore I even think about it I’ve dropped the clock and I’m running down the hallway and toward all the screaming. It’s coming from behind the left door at the end of the hall, and I figure that’s her bedroom. Don’t ask me why she closed the door. Maybe it’s a chick thing.
Anyways, the door was closed and she was screaming like a banshee so I didn’t even slow down but just busted in at a full run. I bash through, go stumbling in, and I’m halfway across the room and almost on top of her before I can stop. And then I’m screaming when I almost didn’t because she’s standing by this dresser, next to her closet…
And her head is gone!
I mean it, man! Her head was gone! Her body was just standing there twitching with her hands up in the air like they had gone to grab her head to keep it from coming off or something. There was blood pumping up out of her neck like a fountain and running down her neck and shoulders. Then her body sort of stumbles and turns toward me with her hands still up and shaking, and then it falls right into me. Man, I’m screaming
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