Launching out of bed, I wring my hands. “What. The. Fuck?” Chasing after my breath like it’s a runaway train, white-hot heat prickles my forehead as anxiety closes around me like a vise.
At least this time, no one is in the bed. I don’t think my heart could handle that a second time. Where the hell am I this time? I rush to the window and see familiar trees and catch a glimpse of my crumbling Victorian through them.
My hands cover my face and groan. I did it again. I’m in my neighbor's houseagain.
A flash of hot irritation rips through me. For a moment, I consider wiggling my generous ass out the window. But even if I could fit, it’s on the second floor and I don’t fancy falling that far.
Which means I’m going to have to sneak out the front. Again.
Kill me now.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to activate any latent magic powers that want to show up and rescue me. I would be happy to transform into a bird, turn invisible, or teleport the hell out of here. All my muscles clench as I focus hard.
Opening my eyes, I’m met with the same sexy poster of a mage girl who starred on Magic Beach Watch.
Witchtits.
Sucking a breath and building my confidence, I slowly turn the handle on the door.
I’m on the same landing as last time but a few doors down from the other room. I pause to listen for any movement, but don’t hear anything. Giving a sniff, I try to detect the smell of bacon and coffee. Any sign that grumpy neighbor is up and about. Nothing. Nothing but the fresh scent of pine and lemon cleaner.
Gulping hard, I begin down the stairs. I carefully check the kitchen for anyone before fully walking into view this time. It’s empty, thank the faelords.
Sweat breaks out on my entire body as confusion and the stress of sneaking around gets to me. I hate this. I hate this so very much.
My rattled nerves calm when I successfully make it out the front door. I turn around and take the time to slowly and quietly close it. Only when it’s fully shut do I exhale a breath I’d been holding so long it’s gone stale in my lungs.
I spin on my heel, and find myself face to face with a massive brown grizzly bear.
My scream is locked in my throat, and all I can manage is a faint squeak as fright courses through my veins and seizes my muscles. Time stops and an icy terror takes over my body until I can feel every beat of my thundering heart.
I am absolutely going to die and any second, I will feel the jaws of a predator around my head.
Except the bear doesn’t pounce. In fact, he doesn’t even move. I know he sees me because we are a foot away and he is staring directly into my eyes.
Oh faelords, am I not supposed to make eye contact? Do I play dead? Why did I spend all my time watching reality mage programs instead of studying wildlife documentaries, so I know what to do right now?
The bear huffs, his breath hotly sweeps over me. The longer he doesn’t move, the more deeply I look into his dark eyes. There is something about them that strikes me. As if there is an intelligence there, and it makes me feel like he is. . . judging me?
With another huff of what I can only describe as disgust, the bear lumbers off and away into the woods. I don’t move until he’s completely gone.
After a couple more terrifying minutes, I make to run for my house. Hopefully he isn’t waiting in the trees, hoping I’d give him chase. I don’t bother to turn and look or listen if anything is after me, until I’ve leaped up the front steps and slam the door shut behind me. My heart jaggedly slams into my ribs as I struggle to get control of my breathing.
Not only did I somehow sleepwalk into my neighbor’s house again, but I was almost eaten by a bear.
Marching up the steps to my bedroom, the uneasiness rocks my insides. Opening the door, I’m surprised to see I’ve been really busy in my sleep this time. My underwear is on display. It’s as if I pulled out the laciest and sluttiest red silk, black lace, and pink crotchless pieces I own and set them out.
My fingers trace over the scratchy red lace of a crotchless one piece I got for Valentine’s Day one year but never got to use. What a weird fucking thing for me to do. Some of these pieces were buried at the back/bottoms of my drawers.
Weirder than breaking into strange men’s beds?
Maybe this is all a sign I need to bail. Pack up my bags and get the faefucks out of this house and beg Cinder and Snow to make room for me in the tiny apartment I came from.
My mind races in a hundred different directions. I need to calm myself.
“I am beautiful. I am capable. I am enough.” I repeat the mantra until my heart rate slows.
And then I make a plan. I say it out loud to solidify it. “Step one, see a doctor about the sleepwalking. Step two, learn about bears. Step three, donotgive up, Goldie.”
