by T. M. Meek
Alex was quickly jolted out of her thoughts as the school bus began rumbling to a stop at her school. “GREEN FORREST MIDDLE SCHOOL” appeared in all capitals along the top of the large square entrance to the old brick school. It was located across the street from Green Forrest Elementary where she first attended school. The middle school had originally opened in the mid nineteen seventies and it showed in every worn out floor mostly along the center as the foot traffic of countless students and hundreds of teachers and other school staff had walked the halls much like Alex would today.
But Alex didn't know when she woke up this morning that today would be the last day she would ever attend Green Forrest middle school even though it was only the first week of a new school year. None of her teachers knew either that today would be her last day there although a few suspected this day would come sooner or later. Either way, that day was today.
“Alex!” one student said loudly as he ran toward her. “I’m two bucks short for lunch today. Can you help me?” he asked as he breathed heavily after running to her.
“I just need to get some change real quick,” Alex nodded. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” The boy nodded and stayed put while Alex went over to start her usual routine.
“Hi, Melinda,” Alex smiled to the lady behind the counter. Melinda was a lady who worked in the elementary school office for four years prior to her working at the middle school office.
Two years earlier, Melinda told Alex she could come to her anytime Alex needed to make change by trading larger dollar bills into smaller ones. "This way you don't receive a lot of money as change in the lunch line in front of everyone else. Other people don't need to know how much money you have on you. They may be tempted to hurt you to make you give them your money––that is if they don't try and steal it from you first. Besides, it's quicker just to come to me," Melinda had said to Alex with a smile.
Melinda never mentioned to her why she was so willing to help Alex. Melinda had heard the long since confirmed rumor through various teachers and students that Alex was using her money to help feed the poorer kids at school. None of the staff had ever heard of a student trying to help other students in that way. They were very impressed with Alex's compassionate generosity and they wondered if they would ever see such charity again by one student for another after Alex graduated.
In addition to being impressed with how she gave money to feed poor classmates, teachers as well as students noticed how Alex would stand up to bullies. This same classmate who was now waiting for lunch money was the same guy she rescued from a bully just last week. He once asked her why she didn’t just punch a bully right away. He recalled her confident response.
“Striking first is what starts fights. Peacekeepers don’t start fights but they do defend when it’s needed. When I see a bully and his friends approaching another classmate with obvious intentions to harass or otherwise humiliate or harm them, my method has proven pretty effective. I don’t punch or kick anyone unless it’s in self-defense – just like the law allows for adults. I’ve really only had to defend myself physically once.”
“I think I’ve heard about it. It was a larger fifth grader, right?”
“Yeah,” Alex replied.
“I heard you won that fight. The whole school was talking about it because he was bigger than you,” he chuckled. “That’s amazing.”
“He shouldn’t have tried to harm me,” Alex shrugged. “But he won’t make that mistake again,” she said confidently.
Alex had put herself in harms way on several occasions as she ran to the aid of others early on in a confrontation. She also would refrain from using foul language and insults because she didn't want to use such a lesser and immature means of asserting herself. She knew that well used intelligence and wisdom so often overcomes any seeming physical advantages of an opponent and that well-founded and supreme confidence can trump all.
So she would quickly put herself in front of a less confident and more vulnerable victim (unless her intuition told her a better method for her own safety) and as the bully approached she would show an intensely unafraid look of extreme confidence in her eyes while locking her eyes on the approaching bully.
If there were a group of bullies she would quickly spot the leader and lock eyes with him (or her). She would then use a firm, clear voice to say “Back off! You leave him alone. You do not want to mess with me! Leave him alone and if you bother him again in the future, I will come and find you, and I will not be alone and we'll have a different conversation – one I promise you won't want to have."
This was usually all it took and any new students that were thinking they could be another school bully often gave up after meeting Alex and learning of the popular support she had from most students and many teachers.
Because Alex was a mostly fearless and less feminine type (what some call a 'tomboy'), she was often the first one to literally run to the aid of other classmates when the school bully was starting to pick on someone. She just wasn't afraid of some five foot four inch one hundred and ten pound punk because what she's dealt with for years in her own home was far worse. Besides, she also knew that the safest time to intervene was early in a confrontation before things would escalate to further or more serious violence – an escalation she knew she wasn't physically equipped to handle.
She also knew she couldn't do this in just any school. Green Forrest middle school didn't have a big gang problem since she lived in the wealthy area of Silver Streams, Kansas.
She also knew she wouldn't be able to intervene as well in heated confrontations among her peers for too much longer since the older she got, the boys and girls her age would get bigger too and the older the kid was then the more dangerous it could be.
If he (or she) would be violent at an older age then he's all the more dangerous and could be less likely to be influenced for good by a reasonable appeal of a physically weaker and more vulnerable "good guy" and in Alex's case, "good girl" for as tomboy as she was, she was still a female and that fact in and of itself posed its own serious potential hazards for life. She knew it’s easier to prevent herself from becoming a victim than to try and repair and heal from often lasting damages done by becoming a surviving victim. That was common sense.
Once Alex got her needed change for the day, she returned to help the waiting classmate. “Here you go,” Alex smiled as she handed the two dollars to him.
“Thanks,” he said a bit embarrassed though grateful. He then ran off to class.
Alex went to her locker to lock up her lunch and then she headed to her first class. She couldn't remember exactly when it was that she learned that there were poor kids here in America, but once she realized they existed––some of them in her own school––she couldn't bear the thought of some other kid going hungry so she felt she had to do something. She devised a fairly simple system where she'd start out each week with a certain amount, usually a hundred dollars but sometimes less. She'd then get change at the start of each school day for only the amount she had planned to give out for the day.
Today she would give out fifteen dollars, usually in one dollar bills to whoever were the first students that asked her for money for lunch. She would usually keep five dollars for herself for lunch unless she brought a large enough lunch to school (which she usually didn't as she was often in a hurry to get out of the house each morning). This way, once all of the one dollar bills were gone, she'd be down to only tens and twenties which meant she had used up her allotted amount to give away for the day since she would never give away more than a maximum of fifteen dollars per day. This way she could help more students in the same way the next day and over the remainder of the week.
If anyone asked her for money for anything other than lunch, she'd simply say, "Sorry. But my money is only to help with lunch."
When she first started this habit of lunch time charity, she began with fifty dollars a week and she would search out kids in need. She learned to spot kids who came from abusive or neglectful
homes (sometimes both) as they were often the ones who were not only particularly shy, but they often wore mismatched clothes or had unkempt hair. They were often the same ones who would sit awkwardly alone with no food and just waiting for lunch to be over.
Alex would walk over to them, smile and say in a soft voice, "Do you want a few bucks for lunch? You can pay me back whenever. It's okay, really. I have extra money." Most of the time they would hesitate but they nearly always accepted the help. This made Alex glad.
After giving them whatever amount they needed, she would say, "I'm going to go and buy my own lunch now. If you want to, you can come find me and eat lunch with me. But only if you want to."
Alex didn't want them to go hungry––physically or socially. She made some good friends this way as some of them would come to sit and eat by her and she always made room where she could. It was usually a big deal for a student to be invited to sit with Alex since so many of them admired the one thing all Opalstone’s had in common: attractive good looks that seemed to permeate every molecule of their Opalstone DNA.
Glade never had any trouble attracting girls or other friends and Alex grew up receiving compliments from both adults and other classmates about how pretty she was. Friends often flocked to her and she could sense how natural it was for most others to want to have a friend that's really attractive and the fact that she was so often kind to others made her all the more magnetic in her social appeal. And although Dex was also physically attractive he crowned himself with an ego that was ugly and cruel. Alex and Glade never let their good looks grow a destructive ego.
On a few occasions as she sat with her friends at an increasingly crowded table, a loner she had just helped had brought their food back to join Alex and eat with her but there was no room and she looked as if she didn't know what to do since she was excited to be invited by a fairly popular girl to sit at the same table at lunch. Alex saw this, scooped up her own lunch and lead the loner over to another table where Alex knew others and there was more room.
“Where’s Alex going?” one girl said to another as they watched Alex sit at another table.
“She knows she can see us anytime.” the second girl replied. “She just wants to let someone feel they’re still welcome to sit by her even if the table she usually sits at becomes too crowded.”
“I’ve seen Alex go without lunch a couple of times to help others.”
“She’s cool.”
“Yeah, she is,” another said as they watched her befriend a handicapped student.
“Most girls don’t make friends with someone like me.” The girl said that Alex had just helped. She was a paraplegic and needed special crutches to get around. Alex carried her food tray for her.
“Race, gender, height, weight, or age –– it doesn’t really matter to me. If someone needs help, and I can help them, I will. Unless they’re creepy. Then I just use common sense and I stay away,” Alex said half-joking upon approaching the cafeteria table.
“Glad you don’t think I’m creepy, ” the girl joked.
“Of course not,” Alex smiled as they sat down together.
There was only one time that a teacher actually approached Alex for help for himself. Alex was surprised but gave him her last surplus for the day of just two dollars. He was a teacher she didn't know very well and he never paid her back (and she never asked). On another occasion, Alex saw a teacher she liked, a younger teacher who had only been there for about a year, who was in a rush and digging hopelessly for money in her purse. Alex came up to her and said, "I can give you some money if you need it. It's okay. I have extra."
The teacher, a bit embarrassed, replied, "No. I think I have it." But after digging for a few more moments, as Alex waited patiently nearby, the teacher finally said to her through an awkward smile, "I'm short one dollar. I only need a dollar and I promise I'll pay you back."
Alex reached into her jeans pocket and said, "Sure. No problem. Are you sure you don't need more? Because I can give you more."
"No. I only need a dollar. I'm sure," she smiled. Alex handed her a dollar. "Thank you so much!" she said gratefully. She then hurried off to buy her lunch and stopped briefly to turn back around and say, "I'll pay you back." A few days later, she found Alex at lunch and paid her back the exact amount she owed: one dollar. She was true to her word. Alex was happy to help her again if she needed but she never saw that teacher hopelessly digging for money at lunch time again.
Alex had carried on this habit of helping other students with lunch money ever since she was in third grade. By now, so many students knew about it that usually by the time her third class of the day had started, several students in need had already tracked her down in one of the halls in between classes and her latest budget limit of fifteen dollars had already been given away for the day.
Because she usually would ask anyone who claimed a lunch need for them to tell her just how short of cash they were, if they only said one buck or two bucks, she could help more people if they too only needed a dollar or two. And once she was down to her last few quarters of surplus (as some of the students in need would make sure to give Alex exact change if she only had bills and no coins), if the last person who requested help needed more than that, she'd give them her last quarters and realizing it wouldn't be enough, she'd simply say, "This is the last of what I have for the day because I have to eat too."
Sometimes they'd gratefully accept it and other times they'd just turn it down for whatever reason. But it was a rare day that she would go home with an unused budget surplus for the day.
Right after school ended for the day and just before catching her bus ride home, she responded to a few texts from her friends. She was careful not to wear out her battery too soon so she could still call 911 if she couldn't plug in her phone someplace in an emergency. Alex often tried to be prepared so she usually brought an extra cell phone battery that was fully charged and a charger with her everywhere she went. But sometimes she needed to be reminded to recharge her spare battery since she would sometimes need to use it.
She texted her best friend, Chase, to see if he wanted to hang out after school. He quickly texted her back letting her know he had a dental appointment so he wouldn't be able to hang out today. She then texted another close friend, Brenda. Alex quickly got a reply from her saying that she could have a friend over from 4:00-5:00 p.m. so Alex could come by if she wanted. Alex texted her back: "c u at 4."
When Alex got off at her stop, she was less than a block away from her home. It was a nice day out and she enjoyed the short walk home. But as soon as she started up the driveway, her heart started beating faster as she went on high alert to check for any signs that Dex might be home.
Her dad bought Dex a top-of-the-line, full-piece drum set with two bass drums for five thousand dollars as a birthday gift last year so it was easy to hear him from a block away whenever he was home and playing. As much as she feared Dex, she was just as equally in awe of his incredible talent for playing drums well. She hated the loudness of it all especially when he was listening to headphones as he played but he needed a large outlet for his intense energy because if he wasn't beating on his drums then he was beating on someone else and sometimes that “someone else” was her.
No loud sounds of drums meant he might not be home now. As she approached the door, her high alert awareness turned to checking for other sounds as she opened the door. She would know if he was home and on the phone or with a friend because he talked loudly and laughed loudly. He was such a naturally aggressive and overly dominant type that being loud was just a part of who he was in his natural expressions of his often self-entitled, arrogant views of himself.
Alex listened intently as she quietly shut the door behind her. No loud voice of Dex on the phone or with his friends was heard. No sounds of the television on could be heard in the room where he usually watched it. The coast was clear. It was safe. As she walked in the house her phone rang.
“Hello?” Alex answere
d.
“Hey, guess what?” Brenda asked cheerfully.
“What?”
“My mom had a bunch of friends over earlier and there’s a bunch of food leftover if you want some when you’re here.”
“Any fresh fruits? Veggies?”
“Tons! There’s even some boxes of those whole grain crackers you like!” Brenda said with the kind of enthusiasm that might make someone think neither of them had eaten in weeks.
Alex matched her enthusiasm. “That sounds sooo good! Okay. I was going to make a snack but I guess I can wait.”
“Good. Wait and eat with me.
“I will.”
“See you later.”
“See you. Bye.” Alex hung up the phone and then headed upstairs to her room. Only her mom was home but she was asleep downstairs in her own room. Something happened about six years earlier that sunk her mom, Raylene, into a deep depression and Alex's mom has rarely been out of bed since. All Alex knew was that it was their own hush-hush family secret. Raylene was a victim and that's all Alex had once overheard. Alex usually tried not to think about it.
Both Twinkles and Bubbles were napping on her bed and they looked so cute as they woke and yawned when she walked in. She dropped her backpack on the floor by the bed and double-checked the window by looking to see if Dex had recently pulled up in his car since she heard a car approaching but the car drove on. It wasn't him. The coast was still clear. She then petted her adorable dogs for a few moments. “So how was your day, cuties?”
The two yipped and wagged their tails and Bubbles licked Alex’s face. Twinkles looked more eager to get outside, possibly to use the bathroom, so Alex decided to lead them downstairs and let them out into the backyard for awhile. She quickly headed back down the stairs and let the dogs out. Then she headed back up to her room to pass the time until she visited Brenda.
Her eyes searched the room for something fun to do. She noticed a specially made item she hadn't played with in years. It was a large wooden window frame with no glass. It measured three feet wide and three feet high. It was made of natural oak wood. It had drapes made of a translucent white polyester fabric that had been left mostly open as much of the drapes had been slid over to one side. The window was meant to be as part of an oversized backyard doll house for Alex.
She looked at the old window frame and wondered what made her so unmotivated to get the doll house built. She used that window frame a lot the first year it was made. But then, not long after that first year of use, Alex became disillusioned with life and the imaginary scenes she would see when she would sit in her bedroom and pretend the window was part of a special house.
She pretended to have a view from a home in heaven – a perfect home with all of the answers that brought peace when the unknown was too unsettling. A home that was safe, happy, and full of love and helped to make sense of the seemingly unfair aspects of the harsh world Alex lived in that she so often felt was so far away from the heavenly world that God lives in.
Where once the window was fresh and brand new its view gave Alex the kind of hope for peace and a better, more peaceful perspective of life that strengthens faith for a better world as only a view from heaven can give. But now it was somewhat dusty and had sat in the same spot, unused and unglorified in for too many years. Her thoughts were interrupted as her phone rang again.
“Hello?” It was Brenda again.
“You’ll never believe what I am holding right now in my hand.”
“Doesn’t anyone ever text anymore?” Alex asked sarcastically.
“Ha ha.” Brenda retorted in equal sarcasm.
“Fine. What are you holding?”
“An official original of a certain national newspaper from 1929.”
Alex squinted her eyes and with some skepticism asked, “That wouldn’t happen to be from October of 1929, would it?”
“October 31st as a matter of fact,” Brenda said proudly.
“Black Tuesday? You have an old paper from Black Tuesday?”
“Not just any paper. A major New York financial newspaper. And it’s in great condition.”
Alex got super excited. “Brenda! I have to have it! I have to have it!” Then wondering if Brenda owned it and could give it away, she asked timidly, “Can I have it?”
“Oh…oh yes…” Brenda mused.
“Yes! Oh, I can’t wait! Oh, thank you! Thank you!”
“… for a price.” Brenda added.
“How much?” Alex quickly replied.
“You know what I want,” Brenda said slyly. Deflated, Alex hung her head.
Brenda continued, “I’m offering you a rare edition of a headline story of the stock market crash that influenced the Great Depression,” she said preparing Alex to pay a high price. “You can’t get this just anywhere.”
Alex began to complain since she knew what Brenda wanted. “But it’s the only signed copy I have...” Alex’s Periodic Table of Elements was personally signed by Albert Einstein at the peak of his career. It was a gift from her grandmother. “The very hand of a genius actually left proof that he touched the table. I’d rather not trade it.”
“And it’s that very signature, that specifically signed periodic table that I want.” Brenda said. She was firm in her negotiation. She had been after Alex to give it to her for over a year because she had a crush on a boy that was a huge fan of Einstein but nothing Brenda had offered would get Alex to budge.
Now it seemed she finally had made an offer Alex couldn’t refuse. If Brenda could finally get that table, then she could show her crush how she likes Einstein too and if they actually began dating someday, maybe she would give it to him as a birthday gift.
“Please tell me you’re using a white cotton glove to hold that newspaper and that it’s not wrapped in any plastic,” Alex said anxiously.
Brenda quickly dropped the phone and grabbed a clean white cotton washcloth to hold the paper with. She then picked back up the phone. “No white gloves..but…”
“Aaargh!” Alex sighed in frustration. “Oil from your fingers and hands will ruin the paper! It’s old! It has to be handled carefully!”
“I’m using a clean white cotton washcloth to hold it as we speak,” Brenda reassured her.
“I don’t know,” Alex said still hesitant to give away her prized periodic table.
“October 31st, 1929,” Brenda said in a sing-song way. “A rare edition…stock market crash…”
“How did you get it?” Alex wondered.
“It was with my grandpa’s stuff. My mom found it and was about to throw it away. I rescued it.” Brenda’s grandpa had passed away over two years earlier and her mom was finally getting around to sorting though what he left behind.
“You’re sure you don’t want to keep it? For sentimental reasons?”
“My grandpa left me a pink blanket his mom made his sister who never really liked it. I love it. I won’t part with my blanket. The paper is different. You can have it if I can have the autographed periodic table.”
“Okay. Okay. The table is yours. I’ll bring it.”
“Yay!” Brenda squealed with joy. “You won’t regret it!”
“I better not,” Alex said in a warning voice.
“Just bring the table and a piece of Black Tuesday history is all yours.”
Alex began to get excited again. “Yeah. It’s worth it. Thanks Brenda.”
“No problem. See you at four.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Alex’s thoughts were racing over the idea of having such an important piece of American history. She began to think of the materials she would need to preserve the paper. A wooden container would be good. Maybe a glass top too so she could look at it from time to time, just as if it had been in a museum. She then looked at the wood framed window. It was definitely too big for the much smaller paper.
Suddenly it occurred to her that this window frame was the same window she saw at the very beginning of her dream. She wondere
d why it was in her dream. This question made Alex completely forget about the old paper. The dream was truly phenomenal and Alex was in much more awe of the memory of the dream now than the newspaper. The view she had from the window in her dream was much more symbolic than the views she once imagined viewing through it so many years ago.
She then noticed a message she had scribbled in her then seven-year-old handwriting along the center of the top board of the frame that read: "Lest you live a life of regret, never forget the love and blessings of heaven’s view."
Her thoughts turned back to the dream she woke to earlier in the morning. That dream, although she still didn't know its full meaning or why she was given it, was not a coincidence. Alex really didn't believe in coincidences anyway. Whenever someone might describe a certain blessing in their life as being a serendipitous coincidence, Alex would simply think of the old saying that: "Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous."
She decided she'd use the dusty window frame again to try and imagine heaven’s view. She'd do what she so often did and that was to imagine the hidden blessings that can come in a situation that on first appearances looks mostly tragic and sad.
She dusted off the window and then grabbed two nearby clamps and dusted them as well. She then placed the frame in the grips and tightened them into place so the window frame stood on its own and set it up on a box so it would be about as high up off of the ground as a normal window might be. Then she thought of an event that would be hard for people to see any good coming from it. She decided to imagine an event that happens every day in every state across the nation: a major car accident.
What she imagined was so jaw-dropping it was as if glorious light was already shining across her face as she pictured angels in a nearly blinding white light flying in to use miraculous powers of heaven to rescue several drivers and passengers.
Suddenly Alex heard a noise in the kitchen downstairs, interrupting her thoughts. Someone was opening up the food pantry and looking for food. Then they opened up the fridge and she heard glass jars clanking as different refrigerated food items were moved around. Maybe it was Glade, she thought. She hoped it was him since he had a DVD movie she wanted to borrow and now she could ask.
"Glade?" she called out as she raced down the stairs and towards the kitchen.
"Who drank my milk?!" Dex yelled angrily in his usual accusatory way. His arms and hands were full with several refrigerated items he had moved to see if his milk was located behind other tall containers.
Dex was simply stopping in to make a quick protein smoothie to drink before he headed off to work. He had a flawed tendency to think that anyone who ran from him must be the guilty person of whatever his latest accusation was, so when Alex realized at the last moment just before arriving at the kitchen that Dex was home and not Glade, the smile she had intended for Glade quickly turned to a look of fear and then she turned back and ran back to the stairs.
"Why did you finish the milk?! That's MY milk for MY protein drinks!" He roared at Alex. He then quickly put back into the fridge some of the items and slammed the refrigerator door shut.
"I didn't drink it!" Alex cried in a desperate attempt to convince him of the truth as she continued to run from him up the stairs.
His attempt to quickly unload the refrigerated containers out of his arms and back into the fridge gave Alex an unusual head start to run and quickly hide from him upstairs. Alex ran up to her bedroom. Just as she was about to hide under her bed, the thought occurs to her that he's found her there before and she remembered how painful the carpet burns were along the side of her arm and on a large part of her stomach and chest when her shirt slid up as he quickly and forcefully yanked her across the floor and out from under her bed the last time she hid there away from him. She was found there before so he'd look there again, she thought. So that's not a safe place now.
She hadn't yet closed her bedroom door and it remained half-opened. She wondered if she shouldn't try and quickly hide in Glade's room. She had to hurry. She could hear Dex thundering towards the stairs to attack her.
Panicked and breathing heavy, a thought came to her mind as a peaceful and assuring question: Do you trust me? She instantly recognized that somehow she knew she could trust the thought. The next thought that came into her mind was: Hide in the laundry bin. I know it's gross but he won't think to check there if you're fast and really quiet.
Just before she went to hide in the laundry bin, she wondered if she should shut her bedroom door so he can't see where she's going but another thought comes urgently to her: No time. Leave the bedroom door open.
The feeling was clear that she didn't have time to both shut the door and get into the laundry bin undetected. Alex quickly raced into her bathroom as quietly as she could and opened the laundry door and climbed in. She then quickly and quietly shut it behind her and moved some of the clothes around so she could get more comfortable and have some room to breathe. She was thankful the bin was only half-full at the time. Then she followed her next thought : Quickly but quietly cover yourself with the dirty clothes and towels.
Alex was a bit of a germaphobe so hiding herself among dirty clothes, even in her own laundry bin, was a very brave thing for her to do as laundry didn't get done very often in the Opalstone home. But she clearly saw it was a great idea.
As she followed the thought and covered herself, another thought came to teach her: This will help muffle the sounds of your heavy breathing. Now stay calm. She also thought that it was smart to leave her bedroom door partly open since it would possibly make Dex think she may have gone into a different room which would make him have to search elsewhere. It worked.
As he looked in other nearby bedrooms that bought her time to get her labored breathing more under control. She needed desperately to take in and let out a deep breath which isn't always done quietly. Now was her chance.
She was glad she breathed deeply when she could because her chances for doing it again were soon over as Dex had just entered her bathroom to continue his angry hunt. Another thought came again: Remember, stay calm…Praying isn't a bad idea either. So Alex began to pray quietly in her heart that Dex wouldn't think to look in the laundry bin. She thought a prayer in her mind: Please, Heavenly Father, please don't let him find me here. Help him not to hear me or think I'm hiding in here.
As Dex headed towards the shower to look for Alex, more thoughts came into her mind from what she felt was a protective heavenly presence. The thoughts that came were: Just trust. Don't move. Not an inch. Stay quiet and calm your breathing. Calm down... Calm down. I'm not going to let him check the laundry. Don't worry. He won't check the laundry.
As she chose to believe in the reassuring feelings and thoughts she was receiving at such a desperate time, more thoughts came to help her know how to exercise faith that her prayer would be answered: He's not going to hear me. He's not going to even think to look here. He's going to just keep on walking by. These thoughts she welcomed eagerly as she learned how to stay positive with her thoughts under such extreme stress.
Dex paused quietly after not finding Alex hiding in the tub. He listened for a moment, and then headed back into Alex's bedroom and walked right past the laundry bin not stopping to check it at all. He checked a place in her bedroom that he thought he missed after looking under her bed. He then quickly ran back down the stairs. Alex wasn't sure if he had given up or if he had continued his search downstairs.
Another thought came to Alex: I told you he wouldn't check the laundry bin and that you'd be safe. Alex knew that promised assurance was fulfilled. Now who's looking out for you? She felt that question was asked with a tender smile. Alex knew it was an angel from God. She simply answered back with her thoughts: My Heavenly Father. She then felt her divine protection say to her in her thoughts: You got it! as if the angel felt happy for her ability to recognize the invisible heavenly help she had received.
She then felt she could open the laundry bin door for mor
e air but that she should still wait upstairs until she heard Dex leave which should only be in a few minutes.
She waited a few moments and then quietly stood up to stretch out the cramps in her legs from being in such a small space. She then listened intently to see if she could hear if Dex had left yet or not. Then she decided she could both listen for Dex and watch him leave to confirm he's gone by going over to her bedroom window to watch.
As she walked over towards her window, another thought came urgently: No! No! Alex! Stay by the laundry bin! Stay by the laundry bin! But Alex liked the feeling of stretching out her legs and she wanted to be sure Dex was gone if she heard any doors open or shut downstairs so she disregarded the warning thought figuring she could just as quickly move back into the laundry bin if she needed to.
But as she went over by her window, she saw something she didn't expect.
Chapter 3: Well Intended Warning