The tingling between my legs is still there but subsides a touch. It’s so unfamiliar and long forgotten that I honestly don’t know how to react to it. I don’t even know why it’s here now. My therapist said it would come back at the right time when my body is ready to respond to theright someone. It wouldn’t respond to the yeti, right? Because the look he gave me was anything but sexy. I’ve seen that look around town, from people who don’t know me and only see a version of me I let them see. Not this time though, no. This time I didn’t even have the chance to open my mouth, and he already formed an opinion about me. And it was not a favorable one.
I groan again and get out of the bath—my me time is ruined anyway—and finish my evening routine. A weird noise coming from the pipes makes me pause for a second. Is that normal? It sounds like a wounded beast howling inside them, and an uncomfortable shiver runs down my still-wet back, causing goose bumps to rise all over my body.
Do I live here alone? Do I want to live here alone? Or anywhere, for that matter?
For the first time since the idea of moving out entered my brain, I’m unsure if it was the right choice. I mean, I’m not equipped to live alone per se, but I’m scared of anything with more than four legs—meaning if I see a spider, I’ll get an aneurysm. I don’t know how to unclog the toilet if it happens, and I don’t do grocery shopping because there are too many people in those stores, rubbing against me in the isles. On the other hand, I have horrible nightmares, and most nights I wake up screaming, covered in sticky sweat, so having no one giving me looks of pity in the morning is a huge bonus.
The howling stops after a few moments, but my elevated heartbeat remains. If it comes back, I’m calling Jake or Justin for a sleepover, hoping Jake is still in town. I wish I had a nearby girlfriend so we could do girly stuff together, but I don’t. That’s my own fault. My closest friend is Josie, who lives in New York. We FaceTime almost every single day, but it’s not the same. It’s not like I can fall asleep on a call with her; unlike me, she has a life.
I pull on an oversized white T-shirt and red plaid pants and walk to the kitchen. A nice, warm cup of peppermint tea sounds relaxing, and it’s exactly what I need. I take out my kettle, turn on the faucet, and shit hits the fan.
Well, not quite so literal, thank God, because that would be a disaster. But something breaks under the sink with a loudpop. I duck under to investigate, and when I open the doors, water starts spraying everywhere. Under the water pressure, my million-step skincare routine washes away from my face in a second. My T-shirt clings to my body for dear life, and my pants almost slip off; that’s how powerful those angry pipes are.
“Fuck!” I yell, trying to get closer and see if I can close something in there or, at the very least, wrap a towel around the pipe. That should help, right? But the pressure is so intense, it keeps beating onto my face without letting me get an inch.
You dirty bastard, you’re the howling beast who nearly made me shit myself?!
By the time I reach the offensive pipe, the kitchen is wholly drowned in icy water—it’s about an inch and a half deep—and there is not a single dry patch left on my body. Turns out the pipe burst.
The water hose looks rusty. I try to collect all of the kitchen towels to wrap them around the pipe, but it doesn’t work. At all.
“Fuck me!” I kick the cabinet with my foot and howl in pain. “Fuck you!” I yell as I smack the pipe with my fist, causing my knuckle to split. Just great.Just keep it coming, universe, would you? I dive inside the cabinet again, but the moment the cold water reaches my split skin, I jump back and yell. “Fuckity fuck!” As I fall on my ass. What in the ever-loving hell is happening right now? Who did I piss off in my previous life?
I can’t contain it anymore. I just yell. I let all of my frustration out as loud as I can. “A-a-a-a-a-a!” as I remain seated in the pool of water on my kitchen floor while the pipe still showering me from under the sink.
ChapterFour
MARK
To say my morning sucks would be a colossal understatement. I’m beat from back-to-back shifts and not sleeping nearly enough after last night since I had to rescue my new neighbor, who is surely going to be a pain in my ass going forward. I can already tell.
I walk Ghost in the morning, make myself breakfast, and go to do some grocery shopping. Before I leave, I check the annoyance’s door, just to be sure of what I need to buy. I’m well acquainted with the door after all of the issues Mrs. Jenkins had with it and don’t need to see the hinges in order to buy new ones. Good thing I can do that from outside. It’s too early to face the banshee again.
A couple of hours later, I fix her door as silently as I can, because if I open my mouth and say something to her, she’ll say something back, and I’ll likely strangle her. The woman has the insane ability to wake carnal urges in my body by being this ice-cold queen. I want to shake her, just to prove she has red blood running through her veins like the rest of us, even though she clearly thinks of herself as better than us lowly animals.
I leave quietly when I’m done, without saying a word. I have so much stuff to do, but I’ve wasted two hours driving to the store to grab what she needs and to fix it afterward. I could be doing other things. It pisses me off and ruins my day, but a fucking hero-syndrome makes me put everything aside and run to a rescue, either they want it or not.
* * *
Thankfully, later that evening, I relax a little. I’m home and relatively calm. Tomorrow I have another shift, and I’m still groggy from the days I’ve had.
I took a shower and am about to let Ghost outside before we go to bed. I’m walking to the fridge for a well-deserved beer in anticipation of a nice, relaxing dinner when a blood-chilling scream pierces the air. Ghost’s ears go up and he whines. I run outside with him hot on my heels. Another piercing cry comes from the neighbor’s house, and I don’t hesitate when I rush to her door. It’s locked. Figures.
I step back and kick the door open with one hard push on my boot. I’m so fucking glad I put boots on before walking Ghost. Kicking doors out while wearing slippers is an ungrateful job. The moment the door is off the hinges, Ghost is inside.
We run toward the sound coming from the kitchen. My body tenses, ready to fight with whoever I’ll find there. When we reach the kitchen, the cry intensifies.
My new neighbor is sitting on the floor, resting her elbows on her bent knees, her butt almost submerged in the water that completely covers the floor. The water is spraying from under the sink like a fucking fountain.
Ghost stops abruptly, and I nearly fall, stumbling over his body.
I drop to the floor next to her and ask, “Who’s here?”
She’s still yelling, so I shake her elbow lightly.
“Is anyone in the house besides you?”
She stops yelling, but her eyes are terror-stricken. Ghost nudges her cheek, and she moves her attention to him, finally blinking.
