The Wild

-25- Crescendo

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I disappeared to the basement with a change of clothes with the intent of a hot shower to relax myself and give me a few peaceful minutes to think. I must have sat on the shower floor for a solid five minutes before I realized I actually had shit to do, so I gathered myself together and got out of the shower, feeling only slightly better as I did so.

My phone sat on the wooden bench in the bathroom, a series of messages stored away from the past hour. They were all from who I expected: Mary, mostly, and Amaya, speaking on behalf of herself and Bennet. Not wanting them to worry any more than they should, I messaged them back, aware of how much it hurt my thumbs to do so. No wonder Bennet didn't text much anymore.

After I changed into clean clothes, I headed back upstairs, resolved to make a pot of tea. I did just that, and set one of my favorite records on so I could sit curled up on the floor of my living room with a mug in my hands and watching the last movie that was left in the player--Dirty Dancing. It didn't take much for me to realize that all the stress on my mind had vanished once everyone had gone their separate ways, but I was on my toes. I couldn't let my guard down now.

My skin felt tingly every once and a while, like all my limbs simultaneously fell asleep. The first time it happened was when I was in the shower, and I nearly fell face-first into the tub. It was why I ended up sitting on the floor beneath the shower head. The second time had been when I was just casually perched on the blankets in my living room. I didn't think much of it until it happened again, this time sooner than the last.

A warning.

I was only halfway through the movie when I decided to put my empty mug in the kitchen, a blanket draped around my shoulders. It was barely past the afternoon now, but the air had that springy, Sunday feel like when the sunlight was just right, and the grass was that perfect hue of green. On any other day, I would have been outside, perhaps on my rooftop painting, but today I wasn't in the mood.

My hands felt so numb that I fumbled with the straps of my rucksack before I finally was able to fish around for a pocketknife or--even better, my hunting knife. Bennet had given it to me so long ago that I had nearly forgotten about it's existence. I got my hands on the smooth, carved wood encasing my pocket knife before I went in search of my hunting knife, trying to jog my memory to where I last left it. The last I could think of was in the basement with my survival camping gear--

I was barely at the basement door when I heard it. The key in the lock.

The key.

In a storm of clarity I felt it all, too much to comprehend without panicking in the mix of everything on my own mind. Tyler had confiscated my keys; it was no wonder he wouldn't use them against me again. My skin was prickling, goosebumps racing up and down my arms as I disappeared behind my basement door, flicked on the light, and scrambled in a frantic daze to the storage shelves. My body was just as aware as I was of the danger ahead.

My mind was screaming.

Warning.

Recollecting the last time my head had gotten this cloudy, I had to steady myself against the shelving unit to calm myself down, feeling more jittery than ever. As I fought to relax myself, my eyes were met with a box on the second shelf with a strip of masking tape on it: CAMPING GEAR.

I had my hands on the handles of the tub when the basement door creaked open--slowly, and not as violently as I imagined it would. All the waves rolling off of him suggested it would, that he'd come in like a tsunami prepared to flush me out of my home. My arms gave out, and the box dropped with a thud! to the ground.