Southern Heart (Southern 5)

Chapter 30

Chelsea

I slam the door shut behind me as I make my way over to my grandmother’s truck. I know I should tell someone I’m leaving, but it’ll be ten minutes at max, fifteen.

I pull out of the driveway just as four other trucks start to park. I raise my hand to say hello to them as I drive by. As I make my way back over to my house, I take in the quiet of the roads. Sunday is usually quiet in general. Everyone is usually with family, or most of them are stopping by my grandparents’ house.

The sound of crunching rocks fills the truck as I pull into the driveway. Turning off the truck, I open the truck door. The soft breeze blows my hair back when I step out of the truck in my driveway. The sun is shining strong now, and I take a second to look up and feel the heat on my face.

I walk toward my front door when a movement to my side makes me jump. My heart speeds up, and I put my hand to my chest. Stopping to look at the trees moving just a touch, three birds come flying out as they chase each other. I laugh, shaking my head. "Smooth," I say, walking up the four steps to the front door.

Unlocking the door with the key, I turn the handle, and the cold air gushes out right away. I close the door behind me and toss the keys on the table at the front door. I rush to the kitchen, looking on the island where I put the crystal plate. The island is empty with only a cup on it. The sound of dripping makes me look at the sink to see the faucet dripping. I walk over and turn it off. My eyes go to the picture frame of my grandmother and me. It’s tilted to one side, and one of the bottom edges is off the ledge. My hand reaches out to fix it. I look down and see one of my dish towels is on the floor right next to my feet. Bending down, I grab the towel, folding it and putting it on the counter.

I look around now and spot the plate on the kitchen table. "That’s strange," I say to myself and then turn to look into the living room. Shaking my head, I walk around the island, and my foot hits one of the stools sticking out. I push it back into place and walk to the bedroom.

I don’t know why I’m expecting it to be trashed, and when I walk in and see everything is exactly where I left everything, I shake my head and kick myself for being so paranoid. "Idiot," I say to myself, going to grab the plate on the table. I stop when one of the shades catches my eye.

The white fabric moves from the air-conditioning vent blowing under it. That isn’t what catches my eye. It’s the brown spot I focus on.

Placing the plate back down on the island, I start making my way over to it. I pick up the sheer fabric in my hand and see that the brown spot looks like a dirty fingerprint. I rub it between my fingers and look out, seeing fingerprints on the white shades. I turn my head now to look out into the house as my eyes go right and left. I turn back around now, my hand coming up to trace the fingerprints I see on the shades.

I turn now, my head screaming at me to get the fuck out of here. I reach in my back pocket to get my phone out and come up empty. "Fuck," I say as I rush over to the counter and grab the plate in my hand. Turning, I rush to the front door, pulling it open and stopping in my tracks. As the blood drains from my body, I feel my head spinning as it catches up to what is happening right now.

I gasp the minute I spot him, and the plate in my hand falls at my feet, shattering all around me. "This is going to be fun." His beady blue eyes shine with happiness and evil all at the same time. His hands reach up, and I see the dirt on them, and I blink. Everything feels like it is happening in slow motion. The only thing I can hear is my inner voice screaming at me to run.

I turn to bolt away from him, but my foot slips on the broken glass, and I fall on my knees. My hands come out instinctively to break my fall. Looking down and trying to focus on my hands, I feel the burning now and turn them over to see I cut my right hand open. My heartbeat echoes in my ears as the sound of my breathing is suddenly the only thing I hear over his menacing laughter. "Where do you think you’re going?" he asks as I push myself up and try to run away from him. I don’t get more than one step away from him before he grabs my bicep so hard in his hand, I yell out in pain.