Shattered

Carter (e)

Carter
11.
I had to be imagining things. The measly girl from the coffee shop had a business degree? What I couldn't figure out for weeks, Hazel found in a few short hours. It didn't make any sense, and although I didn't want to believe anything, I couldn't deny the feeling of calm that I felt.

After a whole month of sales dropping like flies and revenue being tossed out the window, I was almost certain this was going to be it.

Nearly three in the morning, the words blurred together on the yellow notepad as exhaustion threatened to take over. I knew I wouldn't sleep, not after the nightmarish thoughts that crept into the back of my mind every time I closed my eyes. Instead, I forced myself to stare at the hastily scrawled handwriting that had me rereading the words one too many times.

I nearly laughed out loud at how absurd this was. Didn't think that a girl could have such terrible writing. It had me wondering about Hazel all over again. One moment I thought I had her all figured out, and the next, Hazel caught me guessing all over again.

Though I told myself this was a good thing, any relief was scarce, and could feel the uneasiness welling up inside of me all over again.

What was I afraid of? If Hazel was like any of my other assistants, it wouldn't be long before she was gone, too—but that couldn't be it. It just didn't make sense.

Maybe I was afraid Hazel would stay too long.

No one was in the office on a Saturday, and I was thankful for the silence that it brought me because it differed immensely from the eerie quietness of my home. I could spend all day here and no one would even notice. My thoughts couldn't get the best of me here; I was safe.

By the end of the day, I was more than content to pack up my things, eager to call this a mildly decent day, I nearly jumped a foot in the air when the sound of my phone buzzed on top of my desk.

This time, I recognized the caller ID as I hurried to pick it up.

Looks like I spoke too soon.

"Thomas, why are you—?"

"Come for dinner."

I frowned slightly when my brother cut me off, but for a long moment, I said nothing, listening to the sound of pots and pans. I could make out a woman's voice in the background as well.

"No." I finally said, although my stomach grumbled softly at the thought of food. I hadn't eaten anything all day.

"I'm not the one inviting you," Thomas replied. There was a tone in his voice that I couldn't read. "Rebecca, my wife wants you to come."

"No." I answered, forcing the emotions from my voice, ones that had me biting down on my lip to keep from saying anything more.

First Thomas appears out of nowhere, the next I'm babysitting his drunk ass, and now his wife is inviting me to dinner as if I'm a part of the family. I had nearly forgotten Thomas existed up until that first moment.

Too caught up in my thoughts, I barely heard Thomas's, "why not?" An exasperated sigh to go with it.

"Do I have to explain myself? I don't want to come."

More silence. And then the woman's voice rang through on the other end once more, this time closer.

"I'm talking to him now," I heard Thomas's muffled voice. "I don't know yet."

"Mia had a nightmare about you a couple nights ago—she also won't stop talking about "that scary man"."

My pulse skipped a beat in my chest, and I willed it to slow as I thought about Thomas's daughter being afraid of me.