Heal Me

Chapter Eleven

"What do you mean, you know who it is?" Cat sounded less than thrilled at Sarah's little revelation.

Under my bed, in the dark, and with burglars making no secret of their invasion, we still felt the need to whisper.

"I know who's at the door!" Sarah whimpered pathetically. "I know what they want!"

"Well, do pray tell!" Irritated, Cat tucked her sleek, black bob behind both ears to better see the look of fear shining from Sarah's doe-brown eyes. The light from my monitor dimmed slightly as my computer prepared to sleep, but the shadow of worry was still visible on their faces.

Rather than explaining, Sarah found herself lost in personal hysteria. She began to babble, letting her voice rise with each new partial thought. "It's only been a month. I thought it would take longer... I never thought they'd actually come here! I mean, how do they even know where I live?"

"Are you asking us?" Cat hissed.

"This is such a bad idea, Laura!" Sarah was crying now, tears streaming between the freckles on her face. "They'll find us under here, for sure!" she squeaked. "And the police won't make it in time, and I'll never see twenty five, and it was only a small loan!"

"Be quiet!" I hushed her to better hear what was happening with the front door. It seemed to be holding strong, but there was a strange scraping now. They weren't giving up, and Sarah wasn't far from the mark in saying I'd turned us into sitting ducks. "You're right, this is bad."

I clambered out from under the bed, gesturing for them to follow. "We need to find weapons. Come on!"

Sarah crawled out after me; Cat trailed behind with a scowl.

"A small loan?" she thought aloud, trying to piece things together.

We skirted through the apartment like hit-men, looking for anything to use against our possible assailants. You'd think, being in New York, where break-in's were a commonplace occurrence, that we at least had a baseball bat – but we didn't. And we didn't have a gun, or mace, or anything useful, except for Sarah's chef knives.

"We can't use those!" she told us. "They cost me two thousand dollars!"

"And your life isn't worth that much?" Cat nearly yelled, grabbing for one.

"Don't use the Santuko. It's my favorite..." Sarah clearly had her priorities confused. She took the knife from Cat and wiped it down before handing back another with a serrated edge. "Better for fighting," she stated, matter of fact.

Okay...

Three heads whipped toward the door when the scraping became a shrill sound, adding to the horror of the moment. I envisioned our intruders with little metal tools, trying to pick the lock. But that was stupid. We had a deadbolt...

Adrenaline coursed frantically through my veins. Both Cat and Sarah looked as though they could each lift and toss a small car, yet none of us were using our energies to our benefit. As the strain intensified, we started turning on one another.

"This is not happening." Cat swept passed me on her way into the living room where she picked up a poker and tested its weight in her hand. Now with two weapons, she looked a lot like an anime warrior. The only things missing were a set of leather knife sheaths strapped to each of her thighs. "Who are these people? What do they even want?"

A very shaky Sarah, looking pathetic and useless, paced between the bar and sofa. "I don't know who they are! But they want money. I owe them money..."

Cat paused, appalled at her childhood friend. "You owe money to people you've never met?"

"Basically."