Bedtime

I stare up at the blue sky, the clouds are raked, a sure sign of rain.
Shivering when a cold breeze engulfs me, I hug myself.

School was as uninteresting today as ever.
They never seem to teach anything that's actually appealing.
No, it's all uniform text books with dull, barely usable facts that almost no one can absorb.
The teaching system in public schools is in dire need of improvement.

As I ponder this I reach my front door. Entering, I see that I'm alone. All the lights are off and everything it silent.

A part of me is sad and a part of me is grateful.
Sad because I want to be with Blake and grateful because an empty house means Mace will not be lurking around.

Like always, I throw my backpack on couch in the living room.
Getting the last bottle of Jones Soda from the refrigerator, I journey upstairs to shower.

Homework can wait...

*X*

The warm water trickles down my back as I step from the shower. My skin is pink from the temperature I had it set to.
I wrap a soft, warn down, towel around my form.

I drag the material across my flesh, drying up the droplets of moisture there.
Something breaks the silence.
A small, but still very noticeable sound.

Wrapping the towel loosely around my middle, I push open the door to my bedroom that I had left open so the room wouldn't fog. The air is much cooler and it gives me goose bumps.

In the center of my room, on my floor, lays a little black book.
I bend down and pick it up.

I recognize it, it's the little book of poetry my grandmother gave to me on my 11th birthday.

What's it doing on the floor? it should be on the shelf..

I set it gently back on the shelf where it has sat for that last two years.

I wonder how it got on the floor, maybe I knocked it down?

Shrugging it off, I let the towel fall from my body.
I pull on a simple white dress and some blue knee highs.

As I comb out my tangled wet hair, I go downstairs to find something to eat.
I look down at my hair, trying to get out a knot without ripping out my hair.

When I glance back up and see what's in front of me, I jump back, letting out a pathetic squeak and having the comb fail out of my hand.

Not six inches away stands Mace, looming in the dark hallway.
He smirks and leans forward, so he's hovering over me.
I never noticed how tall he was until now.

He picks up a damp lock of my hair and twists it around his fingers.
"Have a nice shower?" He questions leaning down so his face is almost nuzzled in my neck.
"You smell wonderful"

Snapping out of my shock I take a few steps back.
"W-What do you want?"

"Nothing, just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying my stay here" He reaches out and touches my cheek.
His fingertips run down my neck, over my collar bone and- I take another step back.

Only Blake is allowed to touch me like that.

He lets out a deep, frightening chuckle.
"Such venomous fangs they possess, cruelty is what they express" He almost sings as he walks away.

Where have I heard that before?

A shiver runs down my spine and I continuing walking to the kitchen.
I start taking things from the cabinets, so I can make pasta.
As I'm filling a pan with water, something clicks in my head.

I drop the pan in the skink where I'm filling it and rush out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into my room.

I grab the little book of poetry off the shelf and flip it open to the poem on the last page.
It's titled 'Spiders'.

They weave a web of lies, feeding off the unwise.
Such venomous fangs they possess, cruelty is what the express.
Shutting out all light, they bask in the others fright.
And when their prey lay dead and still, they move on to another windowsill.
Copyright © 2010
Anne Mullen.

This book laying in the middle of my room.
The noise I heard.
Him repeating the second line of the last poem in this book.

He was in my room.
Reading my book.
But why?

Why would he leave it out in the center of my room, where I was sure to find it?
Why would he then quote, further making me realize he was in my room?
And why did he pick that line?

Should I tell Blake?