Henry, not barking until Tom came.
My dream… my nightmare.
He—
Tom whips open my bathroom door and barks at me. “Ada! Get dressed or I’ll dress you. Your oven is still warm, so they were just here. I think they were planning something with the gas.”
With the gas.
Or with cookies?
My thoughts flow through my mind like molasses, but there’s no way I want Tom coming in to dress me.
“Get out then!” I yell over my shoulder.
At this point, nothing feels safe. Not Tom, not my house, not even my own mind.
One thing is for sure, though. I don’t want to be naked.
I grab some leggings and a long sweater from my drawer, pulling them on before he can barge in again. Once I’m dressed, I’ll be able to talk to him about this rationally.
When I’m pulling on my socks, he barges in again, and I shriek.
“Oh, calm down, Ada, it’s only me. You don’t need to be so jumpy.”
“You just told me someone was in myhouse!Possibly watching mesleep!I think I have a pretty good fucking reason to be jumpy!”
Tom shakes his head, removing one hand from his gun and running it through his short brown buzz cut. “You’re right, you must be so shaken up, so confused.” His face softens, and he steps toward me. Maybe he means it to be comforting, but it most definitely is not—he’s carrying a gun for god’s sake!
When I step back, he looks hurt for a brief moment before putting on a neutral smile. “Sorry, it’s been a hard night for you. Let’s get you to my place, I’ll get you some coffee, and we can watch the footage. Then, you can tell me if it’s anyone you recognize, and we can call the police.”
“I don’t want to go.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I know it to be true. My home is still my refuge, and the thought of leaving, of going to Tom’s house, makes me feel like I’m about to vomit.
Everything is so confusing, I’ve got this proverbial ball of red string—days and days’ worth of clues. It’s all coming to a head, and yet none of it makes any sense. My thoughts whirl and collide,making me dizzy inside my own mind.
Tom’s here, trying to help.
He’s reaching his hand out to me so he can keep me safe.
In his other hand though, he still holds his gun.
“Ada…” he says, less comforting this time. Now, I’m a young child that’s disobeying orders. “You’re confused. You need rest after your ordeal. Let’s get you that coffee now.”
“I’m too anxious for coffee,” is all I can muster.
His hand wraps around my bicep, a little too tight to be anything but punitive. Henry growls when he steers me through the house.
Inside, I’m a million different parts, screaming a million different things. I float through a sea of them, trying desperately to come up for air, but they all rush into my mouth every time I try, drowning me in conflicting urges.
I want to run.
I want to be safe.
I want to curl up in my bed and pretend it’s all not real.
I want to dream and for Seth to tell me it wasn’t real.
I want… I want it to have been real.
