Ungodly Addiction

Chapter 4 - Chocolate and Kindled Attraction

For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish. - Galatians 5:17

Unease became my companion the moment my mother walked out the door. I've been staring at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess of thoughts spiraling in my mind, but nothing brought me peace.

Her absence always threw me off balance, especially at night. It wasn't the darkness that scared me—it was the nagging worry for her safety. Rather worse, she was out with that English guy again! The last time he came around, he whisked her away for an entire weekend, leaving me with dad. What if she called from another country, like last time? The mere thought made my stomach churn.

I tossed and turned until sweat soaked my nightgown, making me oblivious to the Pro Breeze air conditioner humming beside me. I reached for a drink of water from the bedside table, but unfortunately, it was filled with air. In my restless state, I had no choice but to drag myself to the kitchen. Unease still choked me as I stumbled toward the refrigerator, and I couldn't help but think that this must be a panic attack.

Entering the kitchen, I noticed something rather odd. The light, which I had left on before going to bed, was now off. Surprised and a bit confused, I double-checked my mom's room, she still wasn't home. Trying to keep my nerves in check, I convinced myself that I must have accidentally turned it off and simply forgotten.

Eek eeek Squeeeak!

As I poured water from the bottle, a few squeaks echoed from the garage. My heart skipped a beat, and my mind raced through all the horror movies I'd watched over the years. I tried to ignore it, but the sound kept growing louder, making my anxiety spike.

It wasn't like human clamor—more like a rhythmic squeaking sound, like rubber against concrete. I continued pouring the water, but my hand started trembling when the glass was only half full, so I stopped pouring. I wasn't a scaredy-cat, but I just wasn't used to these scenarios, and honestly, I wanted to phone my mom. But what could she do if she was miles away?  I stood there, listening as the sound grew, when suddenly a strong surge of courage overtook me. I felt like I could face whatever it was.

You can do it Kiera!

Tiptoe, tiptoe—I walked cautiously toward the garage entrance, the jar clutched tightly in my hand. "Mom?" I called out repeatedly, but there was no response. "Hello?!" I yelled louder, inching closer to the entrance. Just as I reached the door, I heard a male voice, audible, but not clear enough to make out the words.

I froze.

After a few lengthy seconds, I realized it was actually mom and the English guy.

"Mom!" I yelled in despair. My heart raced, my lungs fluttered, and my breathing quickened until I felt I couldn't take it anymore. The place was still dark, and all I could see were the movements and shuffles of both of them getting dressed.

"Uhm... Baby, this is Peter, my friend from England," she garbled. "Peter, this is my daughter Kiera."

The hatred I felt for that guy intensified, and the best thing I could do was walk away without saying a word. As I turned, I twisted my ankle and lost my balance. The jar slipped from my hand and shattered, water dispersing across the floor alongside the pieces of glass.

"UGH!" I cried out as I accidentally stepped on a piece. They both rushed toward me, but I hopped away on one leg. I tried to turn a blind eye, but I could still hear their whispers.

"I thought you told her about me," Peter articulated in his despicable British accent. "Now we've scared her."

"I did, but..." my mom began, but I shut my ears before she could finish her sentence.