The Trench

Chapter 27 - The Visitor

The drive home seemed longer than usual, Aimee's voice is circling in my mind with bits and pieces from the story she told me.

"She was obsessed..."

"That was the last time I saw her alive..."

"She still hates me for not believing her..."

I feel bad for Aimee, hearing your best friend was murdered the night you saw her. Knowing you could have prevented it by just going with her or making her stay with you. There was no way to know what was going to happen, but the way she told that part of the story I know she blames herself. I know what that feels like.

I also feel bad for Mae. Finding Stephanie on the floor bleeding out, not being able to save her and not being able to remember parts of that evening due to shock. Believing something was real and no one taking you seriously, whether it was true or not that would drive anyone mad.

I pull into the parking lot and pull my phone out of my pocket, I send a quick "Have a good night!" to Aimee, Mae, and my friend back home Taylor. I sent it to Aimee and Mae to let them know I'm thinking about them, it's always good to have friends when dealing with heavy shit like this. I sent it to Taylor as well, because I just fucking miss her.

I get out of the truck and start walking towards the front of the building, I wrap my arms around myself to try and brace against the wind. I really need to start dressing warmer.

Where's Randy now? I catch myself wondering as I climb the stairs in the hallway, Aimee didn't mention anything about him after the murder. Is he still here? Did he move?

My mind was preoccupied as I walk inside my apartment; I shrug my backpack off my shoulder and reach for the light switch. My hand freezes in the air as I stare at the switch and I realize the lights are already on, I remember turning them off this morning. Confused, I gently lay my back pack on the floor beside me and glance at the still open door.

I didn't unlock the door, it was already unlocked.

I'm immediately on alert as I stand silent listening for any movement in the apartment, cursing myself for not carrying my handgun with me. I glance to my right inside the kitchen, which is empty, then towards the back of the living room where the hall entrance is. Once inside the hallway my room is immediately to the left, to the right the hallway extends and includes a closet, spare bedroom, and bathroom.

My heart races as I try to decide my next move, do I run outside and try to find help or try and reach my gun.

I try and remember the cars in the parking lot; neither Kane nor Austin's cars were there so they're not home. The only other neighbor I know is Mabel across the hall, and with her being 82 I could potentionally be putting her at risk.

I leave the door cracked and I inch my way across the living room towards the hallway, as I get to the entrance I press myself against the wall and carefully peer down towards the far end of the hall. The bathroom door is shut but I can see the light peeping out from the space under the door, a shadow crosses the room as they turn water on in the sink.

They're using my bathroom? Assholes...

Carefully I back towards my bedroom keeping my eyes on the door, I feel wood on my back and I turn the knob and run soundlessly to my nightstand. I reach inside and my fingers slide over the cool material as I pull it out, I bought this Glock G30S about 6 months before I left home. It's small, but being a .45 caliber it packs enough punch to make them regret coming in my home.

I always keep it loaded but I double check anyway before I make my way into the hall. I keep my grip firm with the gun pointed down as I creep towards the bathroom door; the only noise I hear is the running water. Outside the door I take a deep breath and slowly turn the door knob as I disengage the safety.

I throw the door open and bring my gun up ready to defend myself.

"Don't fucking mo-" I start but a woman's scream silences me mind sentence, I stand there in shock as blood drips onto my white linoleum floor.

"TAYLOR?!" I lower my gun as I'm staring at my childhood friend. She's standing in her underwear with one foot propped on my sink, one tanned leg covered in white foam and a razor in her hand.

"You made me bleed on your floor, you bitch." She gives me her wide smile, not even fazed I just had a gun pointed at her. She's a tad crazy.

"Christ almighty Taylor, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" Putting my gun on the shelf beside me I run over to her and throw my arms around her shoulders. We stand there for a second squeezing each other like we hadn't seen one another in years. It's only been a few months, but that's a long time for us.

"Oh you know me, I like making an entrance." She says with a deviant smile. "You need to get a better lock; I picked that shit in less than five minutes." She wags a nagging finger at me as she bends down to wipe the blood off the floor; I grab a Band-Aid from the drawer and toss it on the sink.

"Why are you here? Why didn't you call me? How long are you staying? Why are you shaving your legs in my sink? Why are you in your underwear?" I sit on the edge of the tub as questions spill out. I hear her let out a huge sigh and I can see her roll her eyes in the mirror.

"I'm here because I got on a plane and flew here." She says sarcastically over her shoulder. "I didn't call because I wanted to surprise you. I'm in my underwear because I was going to take a shower because I needed to shave, and then remembered I was having a good hair day and didn't want to ruin it. Hence shaving in your sink and slicing my ankle open when you tried to shoot me."

It was my turn to roll my eyes and I hear her chuckle.

"Well I'd say I'm extremely surprised. Although I know you didn't just fly out here on a whim because you missed me. C'mon, what's going on?"

Taylor was silent for a few moments as she finished shaving her last leg. She rinsed and wiped the shaving cream off before coming and sitting beside me on the tub ledge. She started fiddling with the ends of her long black hair, a habit she has when her mind wanders. I've always been jealous of her looks; her skin has always been a creamy tan color free of any blemishes with long straight black hair. Her eyes are even an amazing light brown with perfect white teeth and a wide smile. She's gorgeous.

"Dad came home." She whispers without any explanation, yet I understood completely. Her dad is an alcoholic, he left her and her mom when she was five and returned home a few years afterwards. Since then her life has been chaos; drunken fights, cops at the house late at night, wondering where he is, a slap here and there when she called him out on his shit. After a significantly bad argument between him and her mom he left home and they didn't hear from him for months. When I left they still hadn't heard a word and I knew she was hoping he would be gone for good this time.

"I'm sorry, Tay." I grab her hand and give it a squeeze; she gives me a weak smile before staring at the wall. For a moment we just sit in silence.