IT WAS COLD WHEN I got up from the bed.
I sat straight up on my bed and checked the time on the analog clock.
7:38 am.
I closed my eyes and run my hands through my hair in frustration.
Memories of bright, flashing cameras attacking my vision as I got out of my car, flushed my memory. The loud accusations and mockery made my chest tighten as my heart started to race.
Suddenly, I reeled back into reality, placing my palms on my chest to relax my accelerating heart rate.
Getting up from the bed, I did my usual routine.
Yesterday, when cowgirl had asked me what had happened in London, I quickly walked away from her before I did something I would regret because I knew if I tried to defend myself, I would do something irrational.
I didn't think the Americans kept up with British tabloids especially in a small town like this.
I thought I could forget what had happened last year but what cowgirl had mention brought a sudden feeling of fear and panic and it came crashing like a heavy wave.
After having my bath, I slipped into a long-sleeved shirt over a dark fleece jacket knowing the cold Creakwood morning would freeze me to death if I didn't wear one.
I walked out of my room and headed to the dinner table where Doris was cooking up breakfast.
"Alright?" She greeted and I lazily raised my thumb in the air in response.
I took a seat on the wooden chair and she placed down a plate of toast, eggs, and beans.
I ate up my breakfast intentionally slowly.
"Rosie seems to fancy you." My grandmother casually stated.
I rolled my eyes at the statement and walked to the sink, quickly washing my plate.
"I'm going for a run," I informed Doris when I was done.
"A run?" Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Elaine, you barely know the here and you want to go out for a run."
I gave an exasperated sigh. "I'll just stick to the road. I'll be fine, besides I will not be long."
Before my grandmother could argue back, I had already exited the house.
I began jogging, ignoring my environment around me when I plugged in my earphones, blasting ear-piercing loud music into my ears.
I need a drink. I admitted.
No. Not a drink. No drink. The sane part of me chided. A distraction. You need a distraction.
I agreed.
Clint would have been an excellent choice but I knew all too good cowgirl will be with him and she would ask me questions I didn't want to answer.
Rosie.
Rosie was a good choice. The girl was a tad bit bonkers but she was alright.
I guess that's where her demonic dog got that from.
I walked down the road and in less than a minute, I arrived in front of their veranda. I pressed the bell on the door.
A few seconds later the door creaked open and I looked down to see Rosie. Her blonde hair was tied in two messy French braids.
Her blank face was now bright with glee. Her lips quirked up to form a mischievous smile.
It's not too late to go back. I thought.
Or I could just talk to her mother. Yes, her mother. Just casual grown-up talk.
"Where's is your mum?" I asked.
"Hey, Elaine! How are ya?" Rosie beamed, ignoring my question. "Come in, I'll show you."
Before I realized the girl had dragged me into the house and shut the door behind her.
She held my hand and yanked me towards a kitchen.
She made me sit on a stool at a kitchen island that stood in the middle of the kitchen.
The walls were plastered with grey cobblestone paired with polished wooden cupboards.
"Oh Elaine, nice seeing you here!" A familiar voice said, cheerily.
"Nice seeing you too..."
Fuck, I forgot her name.
"Catherine." She prompted, although she didn't seem to be offended. "What's up?"
Rosie took a seat opposite me. Placing her face on both of her palms, eagerly listening.
I shrugged. "I was just bored so I decided to pass by, I guess."
Catherine took a seat on the stool, opposite me. "Sure no problem! I was getting a bit bored myself."
"Anyway, how's your sister doing?" She asked, and I couldn't help but scowl.
"Very quiet girl, when she came to Creakwood the only time she left the house was to go to the library or the books store." She chuckled.
Rosie grumbled. "She was no fun."
And her mother chided her.
I feigned a smile. "She's doing well. Having a blast back home."
I unclenched my fists I didn't know were balled up.
"That's good," Catherine said. Then her phone began to Buzz repeatedly.
She checked the phone, rolled her eyes, and switched it off.
"My sister-in-law keeps on sending me pictures of her honeymoon with my brother." She muttered in disdain, her lips were strained to a thin line.
I perked up in interest. "Why? You don't like her?"
She thought for a moment. "Well yes. She's sort of a..." She paused for the right word.
"A bitch?" I suggested, completely forgetting the child in front of us.
She's probably heard worst. I thought, referring to Rosie.
Catherine gasped at my unpleasant choice of words but still nodded. "Yes, you could say that."
"Well," Rosie began, pridefully. "When Elaine marries Clint, she will be the best sister-in-law, so no worries for me."
I choked on my saliva and Catherine threw her head back in laughter.
I shook my head. "No, no, no. That is not happening."
But the girl gave me cheeky smile in response, wiggling her eyebrows, knowingly.
God, what is wrong with that child?
Catherine had gone to have a shower and Rosie had gone out to walk the dog.
And I was in the kitchen with a bottle of untouched wine.
I wasn't going to drink it. Okay, maybe I was.
Until I realized it didn't contain alcohol. This was spam!
A little irritated, I place the bottle back in the cupboard and wandered around the house.
I stopped by a door and creaked it open to find out it was a garage with Clint's truck in it.
The room smelt of motor oil and grease. I noticed the truck was hoisted up; someone was fixing it.
I walked across the room to see Clint under the hoisted car, fixing it up.
And bloody hell, what a splendid view that was.
But as I stared at him, I noticed something; his shirt had raised showing his toned stomach and a tattoo.
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