Page 7 of Abdominal Snowman

Blissfully or nefariously, Sage didn’t really care at this point. All she wanted to do was plunk down on the worn couch in front of that fire.

The wood creaked under her feet as she made her way up the front porch and knocked tentatively on the solid door. Sage leaned in closer, holding her breath to listen for any rustling or approaching footsteps.

She waited. Knocked again. Waited some more.

What were her chances of getting shot for breaking and entering?

But the cold was creeping in, the breeze shooting right through the narrow porch and chilling her to the bone. It sliced through her clothes like knives, and in moments her teeth began chattering. She shivered, and when she lifted her hand to knock again, she couldn’t keep her fist still. Her fingers hesitated over the wood of the door.

“F-f-f-fuck it,” she chittered, grabbing the handle and turning it.

She could have cried at the soft click of the door opening, warmth caressing her face as she pushed the door open wider.

“Hello?” she called out, still holding her breath for signs of someone, anyone, inside.

Sage crept into the cabin, closing the door and the deathly storm outside. Through the thick wood, all she heard was a faint roar from the winds and the crackling embers of the fire.

“Hello?” she called again, but certainty dug into her chest that no one was home.

Hopefully, whoever lived here wasn’t a serial killer.

Guess I’ll know by morning, huh?

Her heavy, tired limbs carried her to the couch, care and civility flying out the window as she huffed a breath and sat.

Now that she was out of immediate danger, the adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her muscles tight and achy and her eyelids heavy. Her head ached, and she rested her eyes for just a second.

“A little snooze won’t kill me,” she whispered into the empty air, the couch pulling her into its cloud soft, fire warmed depths. Her eyelids closed of their own accord as a violent shiver racked her body.

As the welcomed darkness crept in, the last thing she thought of was the creature who’d started all this.

The one who’d darted in front of her car.