Charmed Life

It was an obsession. Or a bad addiction. Whatever it was, I needed to stop. Wandering the dark street, I glanced around to make sure I was alone. But it was close to one in the morning, and I knew everyone around me would be in bed by now.

The street was full of those big, almost mansions with plenty of rooms and bathrooms and humongous kitchens and indoor gyms and pools. And they were all dark and quiet. I usually did this during the day, when I knew the huge, empty houses would be ownerless.

And all mine. At least for a couple of hours.

But this house had been empty for the past couple days, and I was pretty sure it’d be empty tonight. I’d found it three nights ago. After my shift at The Grille ended, I’d hopped on the bus, but instead of getting off at my usual stop, I’d stayed on, until the bus reached the nicer part of town. I hadn’t done this in a while, almost a month. I thought I was done, but the itch came back and here I was.

Poking around outside the first night, I realized the house was vacant. It was around eight, and while all the other houses were still up and about, this one was desolate. I came back the next two nights and found the same thing. Tonight, I would explore the inside.

Hayden would be so mad at me if he knew.

But I didn’t care. The familiar rush came back as I snuck around to the back of the house. It was barren, and I was excited.

Rich people were too trusting, and the first thing I did was check the windows. This one was no different, and I found an unlocked window within seconds. I had to remove the mesh on the window frame first, and that gave me access to the actual glass of the window, which slid opened easily.

Jackpot.

I was up on the back porch, and looking in, I could make out a dark dining room and a kitchen beyond that. Putting a foot on the railing, I hoisted myself up, climbing in through the wide window. I landed on hardwood floors.

I was like a kid in a candy store. Except this was better. Every house was different, and every house was an adventure. I never knew what I would find. I realized that, should a murder ever be committed in any of the houses I’ve been in, then all prints and hairs and resulting DNA would lead to me.

But I’d just fess up at that point. It wasn’t like I ever took anything. I just liked to roam around and pretend like I lived in each house.

I crossed the massive room and reached the dark kitchen, where I opened up the fridge and rooted around. There wasn’t much, just beer and Gatorade. But there was orange juice.

Okay, I always took a glass of orange juice. But who would notice?

Pouring a glass, I sat at the island and slowly drank the juice. This house was huge, but I’d been in bigger ones. It was still impressive though. Washing the glass, I put it away and returned the orange juice.

Fuck. Was it on the top shelf or the one below it? I took a gander and placed in on the top shelf. Whoever lived here wouldn’t notice. They probably didn’t even pour their own juice anyway.

I found my way upstairs, and entered the first room on the right. It was empty. And so were the next two rooms. What kind of shit was this? Where were all the king sized beds and thousand count sheets? And the designer clothes?

Frustrated, I opened the last door and found what appeared to be the master bedroom. It was sparsely decorated, with a bed and dresser and a huge flat screen. The walk in closet, I noted disappointedly, was full of suits and men’s shirts.

Ugh. Bachelor pad. No wonder the rest of the rooms were empty. God, I was rusty. This was a bad pick.

One last hope. I opened the bathroom door, and smiled gleefully when I noticed the huge whirlpool tub and granite marble counters. This wouldn’t be a waste after all.

I kicked my flats off and stripping out of my jeans, I crossed the white tiles and turned the water on, letting it fill the tub. I pulled my cardigan off and followed suit with my tank top. My name tag, pinned to my tank, clattered as it hit the floor.

I stared at myself in the mirror, dressed in my panties and bra. I looked gaunt and haunted. My last good meal was probably when I was seventeen, and still living in Florida with Grams and Gramps.

I ran a hand through my thick black hair before reaching behind me and unhooking my bra. Stepping out of my panties, I gingerly entered the tub.

The warm water surrounded me, and I sat down, closing my eyes and leaning back.

It always started with humming, and before long, I’d be full on singing, pretending like I was on American Idol. I liked the way my voice sounded in the bathroom. The echo against the wall made me sound better.

I didn’t know how long I sat in the tub, eyes closed and singing my favorite song, Charmed Life by Leigh Nash.

My fingers were getting pruney, so I decided it was time to go. Dripping wet, I stepped out and wrapped myself up in a fluffy towel. Rich people had the softest towels.

I looked a little better. More color in my cheeks. But still too skinny. And too tall, which made me look even skinnier. Hayden was right, I did need to eat more.

But still, at least I was clean. I did a little twirl in front of the mirror, singing even louder and basking in the feel of the towel.

Then I saw him.

Standing in the doorway, he was dressed in sweats, dark hair ruffled and eyes piercing as he stared at me. He had a hockey stick in his hands, ready to use it on me.

Shit.

I was so busted.