Blood Red Blindfold

My eyes open to sun rays shining through my flowery curtains. I jump up, almost throwing the covers to the floor. I pick up the soft blue quilt, and smooth it out on the bed. Sighing, I strut out the door of my bedroom. My footsteps on the old wooden floor echo through the house.

A grin appears on my face as I come into the great hall. A perfectly painted red door stands in the door frame. Beautiful wooden stairs lead up to the second floor.

I walk into the living room to the left of the stairs. The carpet is fresh and white. Then I skip to the kitchen, smiling all the way. Sunlight welcomes me through the windows.

Opening the fridge, I take out eggs, cheese, butter, and some bacon. This is a perfect morning for an omelet. I crack an egg and it starts to sizzle in the pan. I sniff, the smell filling the house. I spin in place, taking it all in. I'm home. This is where I belong. This is my house. I deserve it. It may be old to some, but to me it's a sparkling new castle, full of opportunities. At age nineteen, I am doing well on my own. I don't ever want to leave this beautiful place. I could be cooped up inside all day.

A ringing noise fills the house, reverberating in my ears. I skip to the door, letting the omelet sizzle in the pan. I swing the door wide, too giddy to even check who it is.

Suddenly arms surround me, tightening like a boa constrictor. I look up and see Josh smiling wide. My arms fold around him. We stand there enclosed in each other's arms.

"You don't know how much I missed you," he breathes into my ear. His voice fills my ears and seems to lighten my soul.

"I missed you too," I whisper back.

He cradles my head in his shoulder. His arms are getting warm and sticky. I shift and his arms drop. He closes the door behind him. My hand finds his, and I lead him through the living room and into the kitchen.

Josh smells the air. His eyes light up with hunger.

"You want one?" I ask, throwing more cheese and bacon on top of the omelet.

He nods, greedily. "You don't even have to ask. He pulls up a bar stool and sits across from me at the island.

"Are you going to tell me about it?" He asks, his eyes looking over my face.

"About what?" I stare down at the omelet in the pan. I poke it with the fork, and it seems done. I throw it on a plate and hand it to him.

Josh takes the plate, but sets it to the side. His eyes still search my face, looking for answers. "C'mon, Hailey. You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not ready! Okay?" I say. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet." My voice cracks, betraying me.

"Oh, Hailey." He stands, walking around the island. His arms wrap around me from behind. I turn and fall into his embrace. My head buries in his chest. His hand slides through my hair, trying to comfort me.