FCKMA

14 - I Count My Blessings

I was never an obedient daughter. I was never the girl my parents loved to brag about. I wasn’t even sure if I was a remotely sympathetic person. I was usually so narcissistic that I didn’t care about other people’s feelings as long as I finally got what I wanted.

But when my mother had called me, sobbing almost as though she realized that everything she loved in the world had left her, I jumped into a cab and raced back home. I was blind as to what I was doing. At first, I was unsure if this was some sick ploy my parents had orchestrated in order to wheedle me into staying for New Years, but my parents weren’t cynical people. They wouldn’t call me in the dead of night, crying their eyes out as a joke. That’s why I was worried and decided to obey my mother’s wishes. That was why I was bouncing anxiously in the backseat of a cab, worrying like mad.

The driver swerved into my neighborhood, the unexpected change of force on the car in addition to my bouncing caused me to slam into the door. I held my hand against the window as reinforcement.

“Ha, sorry, sweetheart,” the cabbie said with a malicious smirk. Had I not been so fraught and distressed, I would have scolded him for almost giving me a concussion. I looked at the passing houses which seemed to mold into a blur. “You can let me out here,” I said, handing him his fare and jumping out of the car.

I ran to my house as the taxi drove away speedily. My backpack thumping roughly on my back, I near lost my balance and fell into the snow as I sprinted. I fumbled in my jacket pocket for my house key and unlocked the front door.

“Hello?” I called out, searching the place wildly for my parents. “Mom? Dad?” I didn’t stop to set down my backpack, but rather continued bounding around the house with it on. I was glad that I didn’t waste my time, because no one was home.

“What the hell is going on?” I muttered to myself. I removed my phone from my pocket once more and dialed my mother’s number. I held the phone up to my ear and drummed my fingers against the kitchen counter as I waited for it to stop ringing. “You better pick up,” I mumbled. “And there damn well better be an explanation for this.”

But my mother didn’t pick up the phone. She failed to answer the next seven times I called her after that. I called my father’s phone as well, but his went straight to voicemail. I slammed my phone down on to the couch angrily. I resisted crying out in my vexation. What was going on?

Testing my chances, I dialed Renee O’Reilly’s number in hopes that she would pick up the phone and perhaps offer something of an explanation. I was worried, but my disgruntlement was to soon overpower my anxiety.

There were three terse knocks on the door and I crouched down onto the floor, hoping that the front door was locked. Still kneeling on the ground, I waddled over to the drawer and pulled it open slowly, grabbing a knife. The intruder was probably knocking to see if anyone was home, then they were sure to knock down the door and rob the place. I wasn’t going to let that happen. The knocking stopped, so I stood slowly, wielding the knife as a weapon, and made my way towards the front door.

I was about to look through the peephole, the knocking continued. I jumped back in surprise, and fell to the ground when the door opened slowly. Shit! Ally, how the HELL do you forget to lock a door? I scolded myself, frozen with fear. I stood up again, temporarily knocked off balance by my backpack. A hand groped its way against the wall, because I had knocked the lights off when I fell. The intruder was feeling their way against the walls to find their way to the light switch.

In a moment of panic, I swung the knife wildly and felt it make contact with something. “Ow!” a voice screamed. I backed away. “Stay away from here!” I shouted.