Til Death Do Us Part

chapter eleven ~ let me run

The wood house had a familiar smell.

Not one I recognised, but one of those universal smells that everyone had smelled before but couldn't quite lay their finger on where exactly from.

Charlotte Manson wasn't the brightest spark, it seemed - she didn't lock the door of her wood house.
But perhaps it was because she was so certain nobody would find it.

The door had creaked open, and I stood in the middle of the 'party house', eyes scanning the entire premises for something - anything that I could use against her.

But it just came up empty.
The whole house was just filled with old mismatched sofas, beanie bags, and a small flatscreen was screwed onto the far wall. The wall on the right led off to a small kitchen area, where a fridge, a small counter and a sink and microwave stood.

Stepping forward, I grasped the fridge door handle, hoping to find endless cans and bottles of booze, something I could take to the police if she tried anything again. Or threaten to.

But it was empty.
Sadly, but inevitably empty.

I sighed in defeat as Al trudged into the wood house after me, dropping off his armful of stuff beside mine on the table.

So I hunted the room on the left side of the house instead, hoping for a chest of drawers, or even just a box.

Nothing good for me. The whole room was sparse, only a pool table and another TV screen on the far wall.
I slumped, completely defeated.
Perhaps Charlotte Manson really wasn't that interesting.

Sure, she was popular enough to get away with picking on me, but she was nothing special. Just a sadist.

Reasoning with myself, I decided I just needed to get on with Al's plan and leave before someone spotted us.
He stood in the main room, watching me, mischief still glittering in his wide eyes.

"So," he grinned, "What first?"

•••

By the time we had finished setting ourselves up, Al stood back and admired his handiwork.

"Am I a genius?" He stated, "or am I a genius?"

I laughed, nodding, "I think she might just about leave me the hell alone after this."

Glancing at my phone, I noticed it was almost ten o'clock already. That left me with one more hour before I had to be back at school per my agreement with Al.

He had shrugged, told me he was going to bring his truck back around the front of the wood house for us to carry the supplies back out easier. He'd moved it out of sight in case anyone familiar with Charlotte should see it.

Apparently his truck stuck out like a sore thumb in Sebring, and nobody struggled to connect the old beast with its beast of an owner.

So just has he pulled up out front, I helped him carry the supplies to the back, and slammed the small hatch shut for him.
Just as I was about to climb in, I patted my pocket and sighed.

"Just a second," I told him as he perched behind the wheel, "I left my phone on the table."

He nodded, and replied, "I'll wait here for you."

"I'll come with you." Jayden told me, and we travelled back down the condensed pathway to the front door.
He hadn't said much the whole time we'd been setting up. Simply sat on the living room floor - oh, the irony - and observed silently.

Much like a ghost.

As I pushed the door open, my eyes landing on the phone I'd left on the low coffee table, it buzzed loudly.
And then again.