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I am standing in my kitchen with a baseball bat, wondering how the hell I ended up with this life.
I never asked this world to saddle me with a household full of criminals and a kidnapped woman in my laundry room.
A footstep creaks on the top of the landing. I can’t be certain who it is, but I’m pretty sure that I’m better off clocking them with my bat before they have a chance to hurt me.
Aside from the creak of my floors, its suspiciously quiet. That makes me suspect that my pursuer is one of the mystery men that pulled up on my lawn in a van. I ran from the door before I could get a good look at them, but I know what they’re here for. Chris and Zach aren’t capable of moving so quietly that I can’t hear them.
It would be no better if it was them, I remind myself. If they come back from subduing their captive, I’ll be their first target. They don’t need it to be true to accuse me of not lifting a finger to help when the pretty brunette hair-sprayed Lionel right in the eyeball. It is true, because I hate that guy’s guts, but they’d accuse me of anything if it gave them free reign to rough me up for fun. I was so certain that girl was delusional when she said someone was coming for her. I even laughed.
I’m not laughing now. In fact, I’m holding my breath so hard I think my head might explode.
Creaakk
Thank God for this old house. The man must be in the living room, on the other side of the wall from me. I step slowly to the left, knowing he will come through the dining area and around the corner to check the kitchen. I wait, my back against the edge of the archway, heart pounding. My palms are sweaty on the smooth black handle of my Louisville slugger.
Creaaaakkkk
He’s so close to me that I hear an intake of breath. I grip down and leap into action. Before he has a chance to touch me, I raise my arms and smack down hard.
It’s a fucking alien.
A grunt of pain and surprise comes from the beast, who looks like he’s made of metal. I’m a tall woman, and I meant to hit him on the head, but this guy is so huge I’ve co
He stares at me. I stare at him. That goes on for far too long.
I come crashing back to reality and turn to run from him. He grabs for my wrist and whips me back around, causing my bat to clatter to the floor.
He starts jabbering at me in his language softly, eyes flickering over me from head to toe. His nose goes on bleeding as he surveys me with concern. He’s used to talking to someone with a translator.
“I can’t understand you!” I tug my arm away and clutch it against my chest. “And don’t touch me,” I snap, raising my chin at him. Never show fear. Never. That’s the motto.
“You are safe,” he says slowly in his accented English. He points to himself. “Help.”
His blood is changing color right before my eyes— from blue to red— as it flows from the nose that I’m sure I’ve broken. I’m so confused by his quiet, earnest words, by his dizzying appearance and concern for me that I simply stare, wordless for a moment. He thinks I’m a victim, like that other girl. He thinks I’m in need of saving.
“You are in shock,” he says, ignoring his bloodied nose. “Sit down.”
I’m caught between a question of whether to lie or run. My body is telling me run, so I back away from him slowly. If he keeps considering me a frightened little mouse type for the time being, he’ll give me space and then I can book it without him grabbing me again.
“My name is Kiva,” he says with a friendly smile. “I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re safe.”
It must be the panic that makes me want to let out a big laugh at that. He doesn’t have any idea how wrong he is. How I’ll never be safe. I shake my head, and he watches me curiously. I notice the slightest relaxation in the set of his shoulders and decide now’s as good a time as any. The police sirens start just as I spin and sprint down the hall toward the upstairs bedroom. I already know what I’ll do. I’ve thought about it a hundred times. If I climb out the window of my dad’s old room I’ll be directly above the massive rhododendron and it will break my fall. An okay plan if I can execute—
Except I slam right into another silvery-ski
He holds up his slim-looking gun and says, “I don’t wish to use this on a female.”
Real nice, I think.
The one named Kiva that I walloped in the face is right behind me. Great. I’m doomed. Trapped between them in a narrow hallway. The friendly guy with blue hair starts arguing with his partner in their alien language. But when the mean one sees him, he starts to look horrified. I blink and look again. Did I fuck up his face that bad? They’re bickering, and I can’t understand, but the gist seems to be that Kiva wants to help me and his friend (rightfully) thinks I’m a criminal.
There is a clattering of doors, shuffling, and shouting as the police enter through the front door and stomp up to the landing.
“Ma’am, are you the homeowner?” asks the cop that just barged into my house.
“Yes,” I say lamely. I step back down to the landing. For some reason I can’t bear to look at that wide-eyed, blue-haired alien who thinks I’m some kind of damsel in distress. I slip past him with averted eyes. He’s got a case of puppy dog face. And I smacked him with a baseball bat.
The cop lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright, we’re going to have to take you in for questioning. You’re being placed under arrest for aiding and abetting in the kidnapping of Ella Sacco.”
He starts saying all those things you hear on the procedurals about my right to remain silent as he turns me around and claps me in handcuffs. I stare at the creaky floor and take a deep breath. Welp, bound to happen eventually, I think to myself.
“Excuse me, but what is the meaning of this? This female is not a criminal! This is a misunderstanding.”
I startle at the growling tone of the blue-haired alien as he advances menacingly on the police officer. He looks like he’s ready for a fight, but his frowning companion restrains him by pulling his arms behind his back. My mouth hangs open. The cop tugs at me and I follow him, trancelike in my inability to tear my eyes from the alien. Face stained with blood from my blow, he begins to resist, shouting all the while in his strange language.
What is happening? Am in some alternate universe? Because there’s not a single shred of evidence I’ve witnessed over the course of my lifetime to indicate why a total stranger would ever give a shit about a white trash, hard-ass, messed up person like me. But once I’m in that police car and it starts to carry me away, I crane my neck to watch him through the window. He doesn’t stop struggling, his eyes following me until I turn the corner.
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