Her Terrifying Love

Part 13

Lyla went into her phone, blocked Keenan. Again. She was startled by knocking on her bedroom door.

"Dinner time," her dad called.

"Not hungry," she replied.

He pushed open the door. "I made your favorite. Lasagna. Come on."

She wasn't going to win this battle. She followed him down the stairs.

Ryan set a serving of lasagna before her, cut a portion for himself. She tasted a small forkful.

"Mmmmmm. Good."

"Not like your mother's lasagna. I follow her recipe to the T every time I make it. But it never tastes like hers."

Lyla lowered her eyes.

Her dad's tone shifted. "So... about the car. I couldn't afford to have it towed from all the way out there. Hell, the tow would have cost more than the thing was worth. So, I got seventy-five bucks for it."

She sighed.

"I thought you said Darcy was driving to the party," he said.

"She was, but then she ended up doing something else, so..."

Ryan shook his head. "So, you're right back where you started. No car."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Maybe you can get more hours at the diner, and start saving up again."

Lyla dropped her fork onto her plate and pushed away from the table. "Thanks for dinner. Gotta get ready for work."

When she crossed to the stairs, Lyla caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the window of the front door. She reached for the doorknob but stopped short. She was overcome by a strong sensation. A feeling that something vile was waiting for an opportunity to force its way inside.

The figure on the front porch stood motionless.

She withdrew her hand, backed away from the door.

"Something the matter?" her dad called from the kitchen.

She kept her eyes on the shadowy figure. It didn't move an inch.

Ryan approached.

"I think someone's on the porch," she said in a shaky voice. "Don't--"

Before she could issue her warning, Ryan opened the door.

"No one there," he said. He turned and narrowed his eyes. "You okay?"

"Fine," she nodded and climbed the stairs.

A short time later, Lyla stepped into the shower. The water ran hot. She tilted her head back, worked the shampoo through her hair.

As the steam rose, she relaxed, and let her thoughts drift.

She envisioned Jack's sun-washed, chiseled face, his warm hypnotic eyes. She felt his lips pressing softly against hers. She was aroused by his taste, the sensation of his strong arms holding her tightly against his hard-muscled chest.

She flicked his mouth with the tip of her tongue, gently bit his lower lip. He pulled her into a passionate kiss that weakened her knees.

Lyla stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel. When she turned toward the mirror, she was jolted by a message written in the condensation.

YOU LEFT ME.

She wiped it away with a trembling hand. "Not real," she whispered to herself. "It's in your head."

Lyla trotted through the hallway to her bedroom. She got dressed quickly, brushed her hair into a wet ponytail.

TAP. TAP.

Lyla jumped. The blackbird had returned to her windowsill. "Scared the crap out of me," she waved her arms. The bird watched her with its cold yellow eyes. Lyla started for the door when she saw it on the floor.

The gray-striped top. "What the hell?" She furrowed her brow.

When she arrived at the diner, before she went inside, she held her breath and tossed the gray-striped top into the dumpster in the alleyway beside the diner. A cloud of garbage-stink wafted out of the dumpster when she dropped the heavy metal lid closed.

Later that evening, Lyla pocketed a few dollars left as a tip and wiped the table.

Nestled in a booth in the back corner of the diner was a college couple. The chest of a pretty coed rose and fell as she fiercely kissed her lover whose hand had made its way to her thigh.

Lyla imagined herself in Jack's car, her heart thundering as he opened the first button of her shirt. She felt a warmth in her belly that was more than a yearning. She blushed, embarrassed by her infatuation with wanton desire.