"Why can't you just let your guard down for once and trust me?" Karen demanded angrily.
His dark eyes blazed at her statement.
"What, did I hit a soft spot?" She continued sarcastically and he flinched.
"Just be quiet." He ordered.
She took a st...
Sorry, not edited. I'll go back and do it later. 3
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One hundred and twenty two - that's how many tiles filled the kitchen floor. Karen was on the verge of losing her mind. Between waiting on a man night and day who she had yet to see in person and slaving over a hot stove everyday to make food that he didn't - no refused - to eat wasn't how she had planned on spending her first year away from home.
She was already twenty two, having graduated from her community college a month ago with her associates degree. She had no idea why she had even gone to college, considering the fact that she didn't even know what she wanted to be. College had wasted so much money, money that she so desperately needed.
She yanked her hand back when she accidentally sliced her pinky finger with the knife that she had been using to chop tomatoes. She cursed when she saw the crimson blood began to spill from the tip and roll over onto the cutting board.
She sat the knife down, walking over to the sink to wash most of the blood away. After the blood subsided, she took a napkin and dried her hand.
She turned to the old dusty, black clock that hung above the kitchen foyer, groaning. It was almost seven and she hadn't even gotten the food in the oven. She glanced at the meat that was still frozen on the counter and then over to the tomatoes spotted with her blood. She was going to have to throw them away and start over.
She picked up the chopping board, dumping the food into the garbage bin. If there was one thing she absolutely hated, it was wasting food. Growing up in a poor family had that affect on you. When you didn't know when your next meal would be, you cherished everything you got that day - no matter how small, or bad it was.
She reached into the refrigerator, pulling out two more tomatoes as she restarted her previous action.
An hour had passed by and she knew she was late. Like really late.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she came in view with the familiar door she had seen for the past two weeks. She drew in a deep breath. Why should it matter that she's late? It's not like he eats anyways. He probably won't even notice, she tried reassuring herself as her shaky fist came down onto the door. The soft echo of her knocking sounding throughout the empty hallway.
Mr. Foster didn't comment and Karen felt relief wash over her. Maybe he was sleeping. She could safely place the food outside his door and head back to her room without any confrontation.
She slowly bent down, almost setting the food onto the floor when a bored voice startled her from the other side of the closed door.
"You're late." He informed simply.
Karen sat the tray down as she willed herself to stand back up. "It won't happen again." She nervously promised.
Silence settled between them before Mr. Foster spoke back up. This time his voice, calculating. "You're never late."
She wrung her hands together. "Yes. I know. It won't happen again, sir." She repeated again, this time praying that he would just tell her to the leave tray and go. When he didn't speak she moved away from the door.
"Well, I'll just leave your food out here and come get it later." She rushed, hoping to make a hasty escape.
Mr. Foster's voice immediately interrupted. "Wait!" He all but yelled, his deep voice sending chills down her spine.
She froze. "Yes?" She asked timidly.
"Bring my food to me."
She frowned. She had just told him it was outside his door. "I did. I told you that I left it by your door. I will come for it later."
An annoyed huff sounded from behind the door before Mr. Foster tried again. "No, I would like for you to bring my food to me, in my room." He emphasized and Karen felt her legs wobble.
"Your room?" She said dumbly.
"No, the basement." He replied frustratedly, "Of course my room, where else?" He added curtly.
Karen made her way to the door. She scooped the tray up, watching the door for a few moments almost afraid that it would come alive at any moment and swallow her whole - or least she hoped that it would to get her out of her current situation.
"Any day now." Mr. Foster dragged in a dry tone.
She gulped hardly as she placed her hand onto the cool golden knob.
