Page 10 of Strings Attached
A knock at the door churned my stomach, and I just stared at it for a few seconds before walking to it. Had he already made up his mind? Would he just kill me? If it was him, and he agreed, I’d give him a piece of my mind about injecting me for nothing.
How did he carry me in here?
Before I guessed at scenarios, Nina’s face came into view from my peephole, and I sighed. I loved the woman, but Nina had a habit of showing up when I really just wanted to be alone.
Still, I owed my life to this woman. More than once. So I opened the door.
“You don’t look sick,” Nina said, walking in past me.
“Good morning to you, too.”
Nina sat at the island counter and arched an eyebrow. “It’s the afternoon.”
“Then good afternoon,” I said, closing the door and locking it. “Please, come in.”
Nina ignored the sarcastic comment and dug into her purse. “So why are you missing classes today? That’s not like you. Did something happen last night?”
If I could remember my mother, I hoped she’d been similar to Nina—no-nonsense but caring.
“Yeah, the power was out, so I had no air conditioning. Tossed and turned all night, couldn’t sleep. Was too hot,” I wanted to add I’d been drugged?twice?and kidnapped but thought it best to keep that to myself. Didn’t want to worry my social worker and all.
Nina frowned. “Second time this summer this building had a power outage.” She motioned toward the fridge. “Well, since I’m here, do you need any groceries? I can drive you if you want.”
For a second, I was about to refuse but thought better of it; getting a ride in this heat would save me so much strain. Plus, I’d be able to buy a bit more than when I took the bus. “That would be great, thanks.”
As we stepped into the summer heat, I squinted into the sunlight beaming down. I put away my keys, scoffing at the thought of locking my doors; it apparently didn’t keepsomepeople out.
Nina’s car was still cool from the AC, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for the quick departure. If we’d waited even a few minutes more, the inside would cook us alive. It often reminded me of the RV I lived in with my first foster parents. None of that fancy cooling system since it was too expensive, so the small space was always hot in the summer.
“So, how are things going with your report?” Nina asked as she took a turn toward a busy street. Afternoon rush for lunch breaks were almost as bad as rush hour in the morning and evening. Great. It meant small talk.
“I’ve got regular semester starting up in a week, and I have until the end of April to submit it...” I didn’t want to add a vital part of writing it required the interview. “I’m just waiting to hear back on whether I can get access to some potential information that could help.”
“I wish you didn’t write about such a morbid thing,” Nina said, and just as I opened my mouth to argue, Nina raised her hand. “I know, I know. You’ve already explained why, and I get it to an extent. It’s a way to deal with your trauma. I just worry about you sometimes.”
So do I.
I shrugged. “It has less to do with my past as it does with the journalism degree I have. Most of my electives were in forensic psychology, and I took a lot of criminology courses to add to that type of knowledge. Serial killers as the main subject for my final report isn’t out of the ordinary.” I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to cool off a bit more; even the air conditioning was having trouble combating this heat.
“Yes, but considering what you went through when you were fifteen, I’d hoped?”
“I know you have my best interest at heart, and while I appreciate it, I already submitted my report subject to my professor months ago. He accepted it, so changing it isn’t even possible if I wanted to.” I turned to look at Nina. “Which I don’t.”
Nina nodded. “Alright, I get it. I know you hate being nagged. I’ll drop it. Just make sure you take care of your mental health while you do all that research, okay?”
“I will.”
Nina pulled the car into the parking lot of the giant grocery store, and with a grimace, I exited back into the heat. Thankfully, it was a short walk into the frigid air?much shorter than if I’d taken the bus?and soon enough, the summer dress I wore didn’t keep me warm enough in the refrigerated aisles.
Nina pointed out a few things as we shopped, picking up a few personal things of her own along the way. A few times, I could’ve sworn someone was watching me, but I brushed it aside. The store was packed with people, and someone was bound to look in my direction at some point. It was ridiculous to be this paranoid.
“Do you want to finish up and meet me past the cash registers?” Nina asked, and I nodded, tightening my hand on the cart.
I lingered in front of the ice cream, looking back and forth between mint chocolate chip and chocolate cherry, unsure which I wanted more. Back a few years ago, I would’ve indulged in both, but I was learning to deal with my impulse control and not eating my stress. Especially when it contained that much sugar. With a sigh, I mentally calculated how much everything else would cost and decided on neither. I didn’t need them and could save the money for more groceries in the next few weeks instead. People walked by, and as I grabbed the last few items I needed, I slowed my steps.
The scent of wood and musk seemed to surround me for a second.
I spun, staring around as though I’d suddenly see the masked serial killer standing at the end of the aisle. Waiting to run at me and take my life. I almost snorted at the image in my mind; the man was smart, and this was the last place he’d show himself.
