You Have My Attention

Nine

« Winter's POV »

House arrest is something usually given to a person when they've done something bad or illegal. They wear an ankle monitor and aren't allowed to walk a specific distance away from their home. A lot of the time this punishment is given to recovering or consequence-given alcoholics.

Only, I'm not an alcoholic. And I've never done anything illegal. So why am I on house arrest?

It's not like the police have me stuck in here. No, it's Kason. He acts like he doesn't care if I leave, but then he throws in little warnings that say otherwise — very subtly.

For example, today I told him I was leaving to go get things from my apartment, and he said, "Do what you want. I really don't give a damn." He then proceeded to walk off into his room.

An hour later, I'm about to leave, and he emerges again. He scoffs at me. I ask him what his problem is. He says that it's nothing, and that I can do what I want, but I shouldn't come crying to him for help if I need it. I ask what he means. He says Vincent will try to do everything he can to keep me from leaving, no matter what it takes.

And I know Vince better than him anyway. And I know he's also right. Vincent will have my neck.

So suddenly, I'm on house arrest.

And I don't really care about being on it. It's really just the having nothing to do part that bothers me.

Emily was sent off to school finally, and so I'm left alone in the apartment to draw images in the fog I create with my mouth on the windows. I realize that the only difference between living here and in the apartment next door is that I had an abusive boyfriend before. I'm still stuck here, just in a different way. It sucks. It seems that my fate of being trapped is inevitable.

I stare out the window for quite sometime. There's a lot going on in Salem. Not as much as in places like Chicago or New York, but it's still busy. It's alright, I guess. Like I've mentioned before, I enjoy the weather and love the vegetation here. But I haven't been out enough to make a decision on how much I like the people.

My eyes keep track on a woman walking and talking on her phone with another lady beside her. The one on the right is younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen, and the talking woman is in her mid-thirties.

Across the street, a man eyes them occasionally. I don't think much of it until I realize that from my perspective, he's tracking them down. He's following them in broad daylight.

My eyes widen in worry and hesitantly stand. This could be my imagination. What with how bored I am, it wouldn't be surprising that my brain is playing tricks on me to keep me entertained — even if the entertainment is awful. Plus, I've been through enough to be considered paranoid.

However, as they continue walking, the man stalks closer and closer...closer. When I see him picking up his speed a little when the two females round the corner, hands in his pockets, eyes darting from left to right, I make my move, just to be safe. Just in case this is really happening.

I quickly rush out of the apartment, trying to ignore the apartment next door to Kason's as I do so. Nothing happens when I push open the doors and inhale the scent of rain and soil. I look in the direction of where the three people were and take off towards it.