Suburbia (h.s)

chapter four.

The next day, my eyelids fluttered open from the brightness of the sun shining onto my face. The curtains were open and the morning sun cast a golden glow over the pale walls and the bed. For a moment it was beautiful, but then I was reminded of where I was.

Sitting up slowly, I held my head in my hand as I let myself take a breath. I remembered the events of the previous night, shuddering as I recalled Harry's angry face and the chilling calmness of his voice while I screamed, trying to get out of his hold. Gently, I smoothed over the quilt on the bed, the wrinkles flattening out, and then I stood up and moved towards the window. The window where there had been nothing for the past few days and nights. No activity, movement, or evidence of anyone else being out here.

But there was a woman standing by the house next door, sitting in a lawn care and drinking out of a mug. She had a white knitted shawl shrugged around her shoulders. I watched her in amazement as she seemed to turn back towards the window behind her and speak, then smiling in laughter. Was there someone else in that house besides her?

When I had stood there for some time, it became apparent that the woman wasn't going to look towards me. From my best guess, the sun was probably too intense, blinding her from the view inside the window of the bedroom. Either that, or the branches of the tree were blocking the sight of me from her angle. Either way, I was now assured that I wasn't alone.

Despite any warning bells in my mind telling me not to leave my little room, my feet were swift in leading me to the bedroom door, down the hallway, and down the same staircase I'd ventured down last night. Only this time, I could see everything clearly, the same golden sunlight from upstairs brightening the lower floor of the house.

I didn't see any signs of Harry, at least not yet. I recognized the living room, the large windows that presented the backyard in full view. This time, I could see properly how the couches framed the window and the baby blue fabric that I'd forced Harry down onto when I held the knife to him. The memory made my stomach hurt. The coffee table was glass and covered with papers. An empty bourbon glass on top of one of the sheets had left a ring of condensation on it. Moving towards it, I picked up the glass and set it aside as I held the paper and looked at it closer.

I frowned as I tried to read the first line. It was clearly a letter, but the handwriting was difficult for me to read, the script too slanted and fine. But just as I was about to get a better understanding of the handwriting, deciphering what the thin curves of ink were, the sound of a cupboard closing startled me, causing the paper to fall to the floor as I dropped it. I turned around and was greeted by the sight of Harry turning the corner from what my memory told me was the kitchen. He was holding a mug of something.

"There she is." Harry smiled softly, taking a sip from his drink. He seemed to be half dressed, wearing a white-tshirt and a pair of gray boxer briefs, "How are you feeling this morning, darling?" He put his mug on the mantle of the fireplace and leaned against the wall.

It seemed he hadn't noticed me trying to snoop around his papers. "I'm fine." I said.

"Is that so?" He seemed to look at me closely, analyzing my face. "I'm glad you were able to have a restful night after all."

I crossed my arms, not sure what else to say. I surely wasn't going to bring up the events of last night. It seemed he wasn't planning to either, at least not yet.

"Would you like me to fix you a cup?" He motioned behind him towards the kitchen door. "Have one, it'll help to wake you up."

Harry didn't wait for my answer, instead he just spun around and went back through the archway he'd come in from, presumably going to get me a mug of whatever he was drinking. Not knowing what else to do, I took a seat on the couch, pretending I was deeply interested in the yard outside. In a moment, he had returned, with his drink and mine. He placed a pale green mug in front of me, the contents inside of it a creamy caramel color. Coffee.