Passion in Portland 2016 Anthology

by Anthology

  We finished our meals in virtual silence. Elizabeth excused herself, saying she had to make a phone call. Dad and I sat quietly, the stream of conversation drying up like the Sahara Desert. I decided I’d done my duty and put in my time. I was more than ready to go home to my quiet apartment.

  “Dad, thank you for dinner. I need to get home now. I have some work to catch up on, and Omelet will be waiting for food.” I thought of my cat that I’d playfully named after a breakfast item. The funny name fit her.

  I scooted my chair back from the table and stood to leave. Dad paid the tab and walked me to the front door. We saw Elizabeth standing outside talking on the phone. Her back was turned to us so she didn’t see us coming. She was speaking loudly. Whoever was on the other end of the line had incurred my step-mother’s wrath. I only caught the tail end of what she was saying, but it was something to the tune of, “I don’t care how you do it. I gave you the key. Just get it done. That’s what I paid you for!”

  She angrily shoved her cell phone into her Prada handbag and pivoted on her Christian Louboutin heels. She looked surprised to see us, but composed herself quickly and pasted on a syrupy smile. I had no idea what she was up to, but that was my cue to exit stage left. I hugged Dad quickly, nodded to Elizabeth, and headed on my way.

  I was feeling so claustrophobic from the uncomfortable meal that I opted to walk the half mile to my apartment rather than jump on the Max. It had also stopped raining, which further cemented my decision. Walking briskly toward home, I replayed our dinner in my mind. I couldn’t believe my father had entangled himself with that woman. Sure, she was undeniably beautiful, but I had a hard time believing that her good looks could in any way make up for her lack of personality and charm; not to mention the fact that she was incredibly boring. She had no hobbies besides shopping and “lunching” with her friends, who were every bit as vapid as she was. For an intelligent man, my father was stupid when it came to choosing his wives.

  I was nearly home when I had the strangest sensation that I was being followed. It started as a tingling on the back of my neck, and crept along inside of me like a snake, uncoiled and slithering. I picked up the pace a little, glancing behind me as I walked. I didn’t see anyone, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

  I walked briskly to my apartment, continuing to glance behind me. The nagging feeling kept gnawing at me. Some things you just know in your gut, and this was one of those things. I slipped my keycard into the outer door of my apartment building and hurried quickly inside. Breathing a sigh of relief that I was safe, I hopped on the elevator and rode to the fourth floor.

  My building was the nicest one in Portland’s Pearl District, thanks to my father who’d paid my rent for the next five years. Even though I insisted I didn’t want a handout, he swayed my opinion by pulling the “Dad card”. He said if I wasn’t going to live at home, or in a “respectable” neighborhood outside of town, he was going to see that I was in the nicest possible area. He assured me that he would rest easier if he knew the building was secure. The luxury apartment was something I could never have afforded on my own, but being in a safe building was something for which I was grateful; especially tonight.

  I exited the elevator and walked down the hallway to my apartment. Slipping the keycard into the lock, I opened the door and went inside. As always, I flipped on all of the lights as I entered. It was a habit of mine. I didn’t like walking into a dark room. I placed my purse and keys on the small table in the foyer, kicked off my rain boots, hung up my coat, and headed into the living room. After a long day at work and a laborious dinner with Dad and Elizabeth, I was in desperate need of a hot shower; but first, I needed to heat up the house. I flipped on the switch that would start a fire in the gas fireplace and headed into my bedroom.

  The rest of my house was neat as a pin, but my bedroom was the polar opposite. Clothing was strewn all over the plush, beige carpet. My computer desk in the corner of the room had papers piled haphazardly upon it. My large bed remained unmade, the lavender silk sheets beckoning to me. To the average onlooker, it would appear that there was no rhyme or reason to the chaos, but I had the uncanny ability to find anything in the room in a matter of seconds. It was the one place in my home that I didn’t mind being messy. Besides, no one ever saw it except me.

  I stepped into my bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. I felt chilled from the walk home, not to mention the fact that I was still spooked about being followed. It seemed strange that I didn’t see anyone behind me when I was so sure someone was there. It must have been my mind playing tricks on me. I was probably so stressed out from the horrible dinner with Dad and Elizabeth that my nerves were on edge. That had to be it.

  Deciding that I was going to push the thought out of my mind for tonight and relax, I stripped off my clothes and slipped into the shower. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt my body and mind relax. I loved my father, but having to spend time with Elizabeth sent my anxiety level through the roof. As a general rule, I was an easygoing person. Very few things bothered me, and it took a lot to offend me. Since the moment I’d laid eyes on Elizabeth, my nice streak had taken a hike. She got under my skin like no one else ever had, and I didn’t like my reaction to her; which was why I tried to avoid her. The flip side of avoiding Elizabeth was that I didn’t get to see much of my Dad, and that was bad. As an only child, it was my job to look out for his welfare, and my instincts told me that Elizabeth was bad news.

  When Dad told me he and Elizabeth were getting married, I’d begged and pleaded with him to reconsider. When that didn’t work, I threw a tantrum that would put a two-year old to shame. As a last resort, I gave him the silent treatment and told him that I refused to attend the wedding. After a few months, though, I felt guilty about my behavior and gave in. I went to the wedding, although I drew the line at smiling for the photographs. My displeasure about the event was apparent for all to see in the fancy, leather-bound wedding album. And I didn’t feel guilty about that at all.

  Turning off the faucet, I stepped out into the steamy bathroom to dry off. I wrapped one fluffy bath towel around my slender frame, and twisted another into a turban over my red curls. I padded softly into my bedroom to get my pajamas. That’s when I saw Omelet sitting on my bed looking at me disapprovingly with her green eyes. I realized that I hadn’t yet fed her, and felt like the worst cat-mom ever. She sat licking her grey fur, probably wishing it was food.

  “Sorry, baby. I’ll go feed you right now. Come on,” I cooed to her. She yawned, stretched, and hopped off of the bed, following me into the kitchen.

  I opened the pantry and poured food into her dish. She looked at me contentedly, and I was glad I was forgiven. Omelet was such a good cat. She was very intelligent, and enjoyed going for walks with me. She had a pink, rhinestone collar and matching leash. I took her everywhere, except for the dog parks, of course. I often wondered why there weren’t any cat parks. It seemed kind of discriminatory. Maybe I should start a petition to open one.

  While she ate, I went into the living room. I was happy I’d turned on the fireplace before my shower. The flickering flames warmed the room, and I placed myself directly in front of it. I unwound the towel on my head and my red hair tumbled down my back. I finger-combed my curls and sat on the floor next to the fire to help them dry more quickly. This was the perfect way to end my day.

  My body was warm, despite the fact that I was still only wrapped in my bath towel. I thought to myself that I should probably go get dressed, but the heat was making me lazy. Instead, I grabbed a pillow off of the couch and put it under my head, fanning my hair out so it could continue to dry. I stretched my body out onto the floor, closed my eyes, and basked in the silence. I realized I would probably fall asleep right here, but I was so comfortable that it didn’t matter.

  Somewhere between waking and sleeping, I heard Omelet meow. I tried to ignore it, thinking I might be dreaming. She meowed again and again, which wasn’t like her. I reluctantly decided
I should check on her, but I really just wanted to sleep. Being a cat parent was rough.

  When I opened my eyes, I was seized with terror. I didn’t see Omelet. What I saw instead was a giant of a man, dressed completely in black, whose face was hidden by a ski mask. He stood over me with the butcher knife from my own kitchen. From personal experience, I knew the implement was quite sharp, and I had no desire to become intimately acquainted with it.

  My sense of self-preservation had taken a hike, and I completely froze in fear, unable to move for what seemed like years. The giant didn’t move either. We just looked at each other, his beady eyes visible through the holes of the ski mask. The synapses in my brain finally began to fire, and I jumped into action. I kicked him as hard as I could in the groin. He groaned in pain and clumsily took a swipe at me with the knife. I rolled out of his path, and jumped up off of the floor. Unfortunately, I lost my towel in the process, and was completely naked. At that moment, my lack of clothing was the least of my worries.

  The man was huge, larger than any human I’d ever seen. I made a mental note that his terrifying size might also work against him. I was small and quick, and I was determined to use these things to my advantage. I thought back on my ballet classes and made a list of moves I could use for self-defense. A Grand Battement might do the trick. I could bring my foot right up to his face and take him out. I wished I had some martial arts experience instead. Ballet wasn’t exactly famous for its self-defense tactics, but it was all I had. Rich girls weren’t brought up to fight intruders. That’s what Dad paid the bodyguards to do.

  I jumped behind the couch so that there was at least a large piece of furniture between us. I spoke as loudly as I could in the hope that one of my neighbors might hear me. I knew that was a long shot. These walls were soundproof. I could die here and no one would know. My neighbors didn’t have a clue that I existed. I regretted the fact that I hadn’t made an effort to meet any of them. I should have at least baked some cookies or something.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” I tried to sound intimidating, but I highly doubted this man would fear a skinny, naked girl with half-dried, frizzy red curls whose only form of self-defense was ballet moves.

  “What do I want?” The hulking man actually laughed at me, which didn’t do much for my ego. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “No, you’re not. You can’t just come into my home and kill me. That’s rude!” I realized how stupid the words sounded as soon as I said them. This was hardly a man who was concerned with proper protocol. He obviously made a living at being rude.

  “You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you? She told me you might give me some trouble.” The man brandished the knife in the air as he moved closer to me.

  “She? And who might she be?” I was actually more interested in what the man had to say than I should have been. A smarter woman would be running for her life, not exchanging conversation. Apparently, I wasn’t as intelligent as I thought because I continued to ask questions. “Who told you I was a spitfire? I mean, I suppose it’s true, but that’s beside the point.”

  The man laughed again and shook his head at me. Before I knew what was happening, he reached across the couch and picked me straight up off of the floor with the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. His brute strength was really quite impressive. I reminded myself that now was not the time to admire my attacker. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I kicked and flailed my limbs, hopeful that he would drop me. He didn’t.

  “Let me go. Put me down right now!” I firmly reprimanded the giant as I wriggled my body, trying to break free.

  “You sure are a funny little thing; and pretty, too. It’s a shame I have to do this…” The man raised the knife above my chest.

  With all the strength I had, I slammed my elbow straight into his jugular. I felt the pointy bone make contact and hit its mark, and the giant dropped me and the knife on the ground as he wrapped both of his hands around his neck. He groaned and spewed a string of obscenities at me as my body crumpled to the floor. Now I’d done it.

  I crawled across the room as quickly as I could. Unfortunately for me, his recovery time was faster than expected; he grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me roughly toward him. I could feel the rug burn on my back as he dragged me across the carpet. His anger was palpable. I had a momentary vision of the Incredible Hulk turning green and ripping through his clothing, but I reminded myself not to get distracted.

  “Enough!” He roared as he towered over me. “You’re dead now.”

  He raised the butcher knife above his head as he knelt to his knees, pinning my body with his own. His eyes raked over me, and he seemed to notice for the first time that I was naked. He lowered the knife slowly to my chest, tracing my collarbone with the tip, ever so gently. Knowing the sharpness of the knife, I was aware that if he pressed even the slightest bit harder he would break the skin. I was certainly in a predicament now. I didn’t see a lot of options, so I decided to use my nakedness to my advantage. After all, he was a man, and I had a feeling he wasn’t a very smart one.

  “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. You don’t want to hurt me.” I smiled sweetly and batted my eyelashes at him. He shifted his body on top of mine and a look of confusion came over his face. To my surprise, he placed the knife on the floor beside my head.

  “I don’t want to, but I have to. I said I would. I already took the money. She’ll kill me herself if I don’t kill you.” He scratched his head through the ski mask, obviously contemplating what he should say next. I had a feeling he wasn’t a deep thinker. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun before I do it, though.” He reached down and ran his hands over my hair. My stomach lurched. Did this idiot actually think I wanted him to touch me? As much as it pained me to do so, I had to play along.

  “Yes…yes…I’m having some trouble…breathing…if you could…let me up for a minute…I’ll make it worth your while.” I panted, trying to catch my breath as I was crushed underneath his mammoth body.

  “I don’t know. Are you trying to trick me?” He shifted a little bit and I could finally breathe again.

  “Trick you? Come on, I can tell you’re too smart for that. I want us to have some fun. Isn’t that what you want?” I tried my best to sound convincing.

  The stranger eyed my body hungrily, and I knew he was hooked. This was my chance. He moved to the side, freeing my body from his. As soon as I felt the pressure of his body leaving mine, I kicked him in the stomach with all of my strength, knocking the wind out of him as I scrambled to my feet. He doubled over, and I kicked him again, this time in the side. Instinctively, he reached for the knife, flailing it madly as he caught his breath. I felt it slice into the flesh of my arm, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of there.

  I sprinted to the front door, grasping frantically for the door knob. The man rose to his feet and lumbered angrily toward me. I threw open my door and ran down the hallway, screaming and banging on the first door I came to. I had no idea who lived there, and I prayed that someone was home. This was definitely not an ideal way to meet one’s neighbors.

  The door opened, and without even acknowledging the person who answered, I pushed my way inside as I saw the intruder disappear down the emergency stairwell.

  “Help…please…that man…” I panted as I pointed frantically at the stairway. My neighbor took one look at me and took off in a dead run after the intruder. I gasped for air, knowing my lungs would never feel full again. I felt my head spin wildly, and a feeling of nausea flooded me. I reached out to grab the wall for support, but I could feel myself falling, as if in slow motion. Unable to stop it, I crumpled to the floor.

  ♥♥♥♥♥♥

  “Ma’am…wake up…open your eyes. Can you hear me?”

  I heard a strange voice in the distance. I felt like I was underwater, deep down near the ocean floor, struggling as hard as I could to break the surface. I forced my eyes open and looked around frantically, uncertain where I was.
Nothing around me was familiar, including the handsome face that was only inches away from my own.

  I jumped up from the floor, and immediately experienced a terrible head rush. Reaching out instinctively, I grabbed the stranger for support. Suddenly, the events from earlier came crashing into my memory, along with the realization that I was stark naked. I awkwardly tried to cover my body with my hands. The stranger reached out and grabbed the fleece blanket that was folded neatly on his leather couch. With gentle hands, he wrapped it around my body, which was now shivering uncontrollably. He led me to the kitchen where he calmly helped me into a chair.

  “Ma’am, you’re injured and in shock. I need you to try and remember what happened.” The man strode purposefully across the kitchen and opened a cupboard. He grabbed gauze, sterile pads, and a cloth, which he heated with steaming water.

  “I…don’t remember…there was a man…in my apartment. He tried to kill me.” I stammered as the events replayed in my mind.

  Pulling the blanket off of my shoulder, the man gingerly took the warm cloth and placed it on my arm, applying gentle pressure to the knife wound I just now noticed. Embarrassed, I saw that I’d bled all over his blanket; there was also a trail of blood from the front door to the living room, snaking its way into the kitchen where I was sitting.

  “I’m so sorry. I got blood on your blanket and all over your house. I didn’t know I was bleeding.” I glanced up into the kind eyes of the man I assumed was my neighbor. He was tall, around six feet, and had beautiful brown eyes that looked like pools of melted chocolate. His dark hair was cut very short, but I could tell there was a hint of wave to it. His chiseled features and muscular physique brought to mind the image of a Greek god. I couldn’t believe this man had been next door to me all along and we had never met. I had no idea someone like this shared a wall with me.