Implode [edited version]

o7 implosion

A jolt of realization struck her. Someone had been in here. She checked the time again; four ten. Her parents and younger brother were likely still asleep, and that would rule them out. They didn’t own a wayward cat that would go through her things, and never once had she been allowed to take in a stray. Her heart threatened to pound through her chest—just like it had felt in her dream—and her mind wouldn’t focus.

How could she?

Someone had gone through her things. They must have seen some of her deepest thoughts if they had time to leaf through her sketchbooks. She’d been asleep in the tub longer than she’d suspected—had they checked in the bathroom? Had the intruder watched her dream of nothing and peace before violating the sanctity of her room.

She felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and found herself struggling to keep a grasp of reality. She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to keep herself from falling apart. As if that was possible.

Whatever solace she had after her nightmare was shattered in the knowledge that someone had been in her room, and was shaken up again when a thought dawned on her. What if they had never left? What if they were watching her now from some dark corner she wasn’t focusing on, or in her closet. There was no way she’d be getting up to check, terrified as she was.

She felt bile rise to her throat and clamped a hand over her mouth before it could flow out. She wasn’t about to allow herself to retch in front of a stranger. That little shred of dignity that she clung to wouldn’t allow her, keeping her in check. She swallowed, a shudder rippling through her and sought the comfort of the authorities. She lunged for her cellphone, which she’d forgotten to take downstairs to charge and somehow still had enough battery power, and dialed 911. If anyone were still in the room, they’d likely take that moment to jump out at her.

When the phone clicked on a woman, slightly chipper and clipped all at once, answered the phone.

“There’s someone in my room,” Exodus whispered hurriedly, eyes darting to the area around her for signs of movement.

“Okay, okay, tell me your name and address; we’re sending someone your way now.”

“Please, please, hurry,” she murmured, shortly after giving the required information.

“I’ll stay on the line with you. Do you have anything you might be able to protect yourself with?”

She hadn’t thought of that, not in her panicked state. She sucked in a shaky breath and looked around quickly for something that would work. Her heart dropped at the sight of nothing but her pencils—which were on the other side of the room with the exact-o knife she used as a sharpener.

“N-no; nothing is close enough.”

“Okay, just breathe and don’t move.”

She could hear the lazy drawl of sirens in the distance. Good, they were getting here quickly. She caught the dip of a shadow in the corner of her eye and froze, but then it was gone. The sirens were getting closer, louder and more urgent. Faster, she willed them on, kick in the door if you have to.

There was thundering knock, and she could hear the thump of her parents waking with complaints. Footsteps—her father’s by the weight of them—drummed down the stairs and opened the door.

Exodus released a breath she hadn’t remembered holding, and with it a wave of vomit that coated her ankles and toes before fell forward. She caught herself before she could land in her own vomit, but continued to retch, even as the officers rushed up the stairs to her room.

They searched for an hour around the house, and found nothing. There was no sign of forced entry or exit, which lead them to believe that someone might have had a key. In order for that to work, they’d have to have stalked the family for a few days at most.

The questions were endless, and she scarcely had time to realize that the angry gashes had faded to ugly scars that shone like polished silver in the light. Her mind continued to reel, and her stomach turned too often for her not to have a bag to turn to. Her eyes felt heavy, and keeping them open was difficult. Was this how shock was supposed to feel? Wasn’t she supposed to be too alert to even imagine the idea of sleeping, too shaken to close her eyes? One of the paramedics approached her, lifted a calm hand to her forehead, and jerked back in surprise. She didn’t hear what it was that he shouted next, too far gone to focus on any one sound.

Everything bounced around her in haze of resonance and lights, and then there was nothing.

 // don't mind me; I'm just updating. Let me know what you guys think! I know the progression is sort of moving away from what it was before, but this is all very necessary; trust me.