(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 58: Tony

"Hey! I like those."

"Everybody else did too. Two generations ago," I retorted and rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to help you find an outfit?"

She pouted for a moment, before she mumbled a yes. So I quickly tucked the shorts into my suitcase, before I strode across the hall to auntie Dorothy's room, with her hot on my heels.

"Now, let me see... You look really good in orange. Maybe we should go for the black skinny jeans and an orange button up?"

"Not the skinny jeans," she whined. I knew she secretly loved them. She just wasn't used to showing off her body.

"Yes, the skinny jeans. And if you borrow my black top underneath and..."

I snapped my fingers and tried to find a way to complete the outfit.

"Oh! The black leather jacket."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely! I'll go find the top and a matching scarf or a necklace, and you'll get the jacket."

She was about to say something, when the doorbell rang. Then we looked at each other.

"Are you expecting someone?" she asked, but I shrugged.

"No. Are you? Maybe it's Patrick?"

She frowned and left my room, and soon after I heard her exclaim words of joy. Somebody obviously found Tony and brought him home.

"Mia! Mia, she found Tony! She found him! Awe, mommy's been so scared," I heard her talking partially to her cat and partially to the person who found him. It was a woman, no doubt.

"Where did you find him?"

"In... Uhm. My uncle's shed."

Why did she hesitate?

"Your uncle?"

"Yeah. I'm here for a visit."

"That's great! Who's your uncle?" auntie Dorothy exclaimed eagerly. To say she was relieved was an understatement.

"Uhm. Ha... Harv..."

"Oh! Harris?" auntie Dorothy finished, and I saw the back of her head bobbing up and down, as she nodded while she spoke. I walked closer, but it felt like I was moving in syrup.

"Oh, I haven't talked to him in ages. How's he doing?"

Before the woman got the time to answer, auntie Dorothy backed away and signed for her to come inside. But as soon as I saw the person standing there, all the blood drained from my body and was replaced by a shivering cold that flashed up and down my spine.

It was her.

It was the woman from the airport. And now she was eyeing me with an unexplainable expression that creeped me out to the point that I knew an anxiety attack would hit any second.

"You need to leave!" was the only thing I managed to say, and my voice sounded strange and eerie.

"But she found Tony," auntie Dorothy protested, obviously not picking up on my reaction to the staring girl. "The least we can do is to invite her in for a coffee."

"It's too late for a coffee, and we're busy," I replied robotically, walking towards them even though all my instincts told me to get the hell away.

"But..."

"Thanks for finding Tony. Goodbye."

When she didn't react, I wanted to push her out of the door. But for some reason I was scared to touch her, almost as if I expected her to attack me like an eight armed monster with ten inch fangs. My heart rate thundered in my ears and I started trembling all over, and the way she kept her calculating stare locked on me combined with a creepy smile made me want to scream.

"I said goodbye!" I yelled, and she finally backed out on the porch.

"Mia! She..."

But I'd already slammed the door shut and locked it with the three locks that were there. I even contemplated barricading the door with the dresser next to it, but decided that auntie Dorothy probably would question my sanity if I did.

"I didn't even get to ask what her name was!"

"She doesn't need any name," I mumbled, and kept staring at the door. I could literally feel her standing at the other side, staring back.

"Don't ever let her in."

"But Mia, why are you..."

"I said, don't let her in!" I yelled, and I felt my self-control slipping by the moment. I needed to get away. So before an utterly confused auntie Dorothy got to ask any more questions, I stormed off to my room and locked the door.

For several minutes I was leaning against it and tried to control my breathing. I felt both lightheaded and nauseous, while all kinds of thoughts slammed back and forth inside my head, crashing against my skull and each other. It didn't help to hold my ears or rub my temples. I knew that, but I still did it.

She was still there. I didn't even have to look out of the window. She was there. And her dark eyes and long light brown hair that slowly danced in the evening breeze, was the last thing I saw before I pulled the curtains shut and turned off the lights.

It was her. Michael's chef.

Veronica.